The young man looked up at the sky, his right hand fisted around a small bottle. He unscrewed the lid of the bottle, which contained the miracle drink he’d got off the old witch that lived on the other side of the wood. He looked down, it was a long fall, then… water.

He looked at the sky again, raising the bottle to his mouth. He was soaked to the bone, only dressed in rags, but he wasn’t going to give up. He was waiting for that special moment to get the strength to pay back for all the hurt that man had caused him. That man.

A blinding flash, directly followed by a mind-blowing roll of thunder announced the moment. He drank the liquid, hearing the voice call as everything blurred before his eyes.

"Cian?" He was aware of the man beside him, but he wished he wasn’t. "Cian, answer me… Cian." He knew the older man was crying as he was scooped into his arms. He was surprised he seemed to have forgotten the worry over his noble clothes. "What did you do? Who gave that thing to you?"

The young man finally opened his eyes and stared blankly at the older man. "Eibhir…" he whispered slowly and clearly. The older man couldn’t believe it. His own brother had drunk something that witch had given to him.

"Don’t die on me, please…"

"You want me out of the way, so I’m going. I’ll meet you in another life though, and this time, you won’t defeat me… goodbye." Tilting his head back catching a last glimpse of the stormy sky, he whispered, "Oh Lord of evil take my soul…"

Chapter 1 >>