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Purple Tropical Soda
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There’s not a doubt in my mind that I did speak with our mother’s spirit. Ciarán choosing to seek out the soul-devourers- the Airceacháin- must have changed how he sees the remains of who lies beyond the veil. If I want to connect with my brother and see inside his mind, I’ll need to mirror it, if only for a short while.
“It did,” I say softly.
“It remembered Mother’s threats. Shades are so stubborn…” Ciarán steps back and smiles. “And now, we are both free to make our own decisions. You haven’t stabbed me yet, despite what it told you about my plans. I appreciate that.”
“Free?”
“Yes,” my brother says, “Free. Free from Mother’s insistence that we continue fighting her way. Following her plans. If you had been free to choose your own fate, Rae, would you have chosen to be a warrior? It was her decision to make you a Warseer, not yours.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.
“The Circle sent you away. I didn’t fight it then.” Ciarán says. “And if I had the chance to relive that moment… I would still stay silent. I would tell you, as you were exiled, that I would be happy you had the chance to be far from the fighting. Now you have returned, and given us great gifts we would never have received otherwise. I thank you.”
He means my friends. Kayk. Dotti. Serah. He doesn’t know about Pierre, but if he remains here for long…
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