Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [115]
“I wanted a second child, a second son. But they tricked me again with Lea. What use was a daughter? She could not follow in my footsteps. Your mother never knew the truth, but it ate at me. It was a canker in me, which was rubbed raw every time you disobeyed me. I wanted to leave you in the woods to die, to be taken back to them, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted you so much. You were my son, my straight-shouldered, beautiful son. I had so much hope for you. Why did you not feel anything for me?”
Caelan stared at Beva, feeling the spirit’s anguish. His own torment rose in him. For the last time, he tried to make Beva understand. “If you had just let me be myself,” he said softly, feeling his eyes sting. “I loved you, Father. I wanted to please you, but I couldn’t be something I wasn’t.”
“But now you have come to me. You have changed,” Beva said with satisfaction, as though he had won. “You will be what I want. You will become me, and I shall live on to continue my work.”
Caelan bowed his head. That was the price. It had always been the price, even when he had not understood what truly lay beneath their animosity. Now he would pay it. Beva was finally going to win.
Caelan’s arms slackened around Albain, and he closed his eyes. He felt a coldness upon his face, like a clammy mist. The coldness filled his body, making him shiver. He fought it a moment, not wanting this, fearing he would never be able to come back, and yet he had promised. It was for Albain. It was for Elandra. He forced away his fear, and let the presence enter, joining with him.
He shuddered once and felt cold and hollow inside. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking down at Albain as though from very far away. His mind grew very clear and detached. He recognized Albain, but the man’s identity did not matter.
The injuries needed immediate attention. There was much blood pooled around the internal organs.
His hands reached down and down and down until at last they touched Albain. He let the healing pass through him, restoring the balance and harmony of the body’s natural functions. The crushed bones mended. The damaged organs grew stronger. The bruising faded. The blood seeped forth from the tissues.
All the pain and damage left Albain and entered him. His body jerked back in agony, absorbing it, becoming it, conquering it. Then all became still and calm.
Caelan drew breath after a moment, daring to risk the return of that terrible pain. But the pain was gone, already fading as though it had never been. He looked down for Albain, but the man had vanished, and Caelan felt no more contact with him.
Instead, he felt his father entwined around and through him. Rebellion returned, and he wanted to fling his father’s presence away. But Beva clung tightly.
“You promised,” he whispered through Caelan’s mind.
Caelan remembered what honor meant, and he forced his rebellion away. Shivering, he opened himself and let his father take over.
Beva’s cold presence flowed down through his body, chilling him, then it seemed to vanish.
Caelan waited, but nothing else happened. Would he know when Beva took over his soul? Would he ever be aware of it?
Opening his eyes after a moment, Caelan blinked and once again found himself in the grove of trees. The wind had stopped blowing, and there was only silence. No life, no movement, no sound.
A trail stretched before him. Without knowing why, he followed it to the bank of a stream.
The water flowed swift and deep. If he crossed it, he would have to swim.
While he hesitated, he heard a sound behind him.
It was only one of the trees swaying.
Caelan relaxed, then frowned and looked at the tree again. It moved, its branches rustling and swaying, but no wind blew.
He turned around to face it, conscious of the water at his back, as though to corner him.
“You are not in danger,” a voice said to him.
It sounded familiar, but he could not place