Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  The clan feasted nightly as Faolan requested. They sang and danced and drank and shared stories. Skye was thrilled to note that Aodh had already put on a considerable amount of weight and muscle mass. He had been practically skin and bones upon arriving. The men, knowing the gargantuan faol he would one day become, were ensuring he had all the food he needed to properly grow. Skye thanked her lucky stars that she had found him and managed to heal him. She was so grateful that he would have a long, happy life ahead of him now.

  By day, she continued training with Taran. In preparation for her looming departure, he was a lot tougher on her. It evened out, though, considering he had become a shameless cuddler by night. He was the first one in and last one out of bed when it was time to sleep. He relished the closeness while it lasted.

  It was exceedingly difficult for him at times. Skye and Ciaran were still enjoying the pleasures of one another’s bodies whenever he was out ‘patrolling’ the forest surrounding the village (which he made a point of doing every night for at least an hour or two.) He could not fault them for it. If he had not been such a fool in the beginning, he knew he would be claiming her as often as possible.

  He tried not to think about it, but he could smell the sex on them as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He resigned himself to the intense torment, the bone-deep longing for her that caused his body to quake with need at times as he held onto her a little too tightly. It was worth it to be so close. He would burn for her. He would hunger for her until it boiled his blood and threatened to drive him mad, if it meant he could continue to touch her tenderly.

  He knew she struggled with it just as much. He could smell her arousal growing stronger each night. He could feel the tension in her body, the way she trembled at his lightest touch, the way she fought the urge to arch her back and press against him encouragingly. He could hear the way her breathing quickened and all the little sighs and moans she gave when he nuzzled her neck. Her obviously equal yearning for him eased his self-inflicted suffering slightly, but it simultaneously made it more difficult.

  Skye at least was able to find release with Ciaran during their time alone each night. In addition to pleasing her dark one, she worked out all the hunger she felt for Taran and her intense desire to return to the way things were. When Ciaran expressed curiosity over what she was missing, she shared memories of the three of them together. Sweat and skin. Her body pressed between them, the intermingled scents of their arousal, the way they stretched and filled her up so completely, the way it felt as the both moved inside of her, the sounds and sensation of the three of them reaching their climax together. Ciaran’s jaw dropped open in astonishment. Breathless and hungry for more, he joked that he could understand why she was willing to fight a war single-handedly to get back there.

  And then, before any of them were ready, it was time to say goodbye.

  Skye looked up at Sorcha where she stood upon her cliff. The two held one another’s gaze for a moment, but no words were exchanged. None were needed. Skye raised her hand and waved and watched as the Moon Goddess inclined her head gracefully in reply.

  Faolan leaned down as Skye stretched to kiss his cheek. He smiled sadly at the sweet gesture, then pressed his forehead to hers.

  “I will see you again. I promise,” she whispered.

  Faolan nodded and closed his eyes, pulling her into a tight embrace and doing his best to hold back his emotions. He inhaled deeply as he released her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her eyes. “Go, my brave, beautiful child. Fight. Survive. And when your enemies lay broken at your feet, return safely to me.” He pressed a kiss to her brow before grudgingly letting her go.

  “I will, father,” she assured.

  She gave his hand one last squeeze before turning and setting out. She forced a brave smile as she passed the sad eyes of her men. Drostan, Ailean, and Eògan each tearfully brought their fists to their hearts and bowed their heads to her in farewell.

  Be careful, bright lady, Aodh called. Please come back safely. He did not know where she was going, but he had at least managed to glean that she was leaving for a terribly long time and was heading into danger alone. Tears streamed down his innocent face as he stood in front of Ruarachan. The faol’s large hands were resting on Aodh’s narrow shoulders, gripping them lightly. Skye was glad for the connection he was providing the boy. She could feel through their link how much Aodh needed Ruarachan’s support in that moment.

  I will, Aodh. I wish you a truly beautiful life until we meet again, she answered sweetly. You are in good hands here.

  She met Ruarachan’s gaze and nodded to him appreciatively – for all that he had done, and all that he would do. Ruarachan ducked his head and winced as tears came to his eyes.

  Taran and Ciaran followed after her as she headed away from the others, neither man looking forward to reaching their destination.

  The trio trekked out across the rocky landscape until they were no longer within sight of the forest edge. Skye turned back toward the direction of Faol Seunta. She extended her arms to the heavens and focused on her breathing. Letting her head fall back, she relaxed and opened herself to the energies of the world. She felt Sorcha there in the distance, doing just as she was. She felt the coldness of Sorcha’s light, how it differed from her own. As if taking Sorcha’s hands in hers, she allowed her power to connect with that of the Moon Goddess. Exhaling sharply, she gave a mighty pull in time with Sorcha.

  Taran and Ciaran shielded their eyes as the power surged and passed into the realm of their vision. The white light of the Goddesses’ magic formed a ring around the forest where Faolan and the faol were gathered. It grew in intensity before swiftly flashing and fading.

  Skye opened her eyes slowly. In the minds of her Wolf Father and all of her clansmen, she was a stranger once more. She felt a pang of sadness at the loss. “It is finished,” she whispered.

  Taran and Ciaran exchanged a pained glance, each greatly dreading being on the receiving end of the spell. With heavy hearts, they turned and followed Skye, setting out once more in the direction of the cave.

  The weather grew steadily colder and darker as they walked. Thick gray clouds blanketed the sky, smothering the sun and bringing with them a chill, misty rain. The Trinity traveled in silence for most of the journey, each struggling to deal with their own growing fears and sorrows.

  All too soon, the landscape began to change. Gentle, rolling hills gradually gave way to familiar, towering rock formations until, finally, the cave came into view in the distance.

  Ciaran walked ahead a bit, glaring out at their destination and instinctively taking a defensive position in front of Skye. The cave which had so recently been sacred to him – the place where he first laid eyes upon his Goddess, where he had first known the bliss of her touch – now seemed like a mortal enemy. It was a monster’s mouth looming ahead, eager to swallow Skye up and steal her away from him, taking with her every bit of the fleeting joy he had been given. He gritted his teeth against the aching in his heart.

  Skye stopped when she realized she was standing at the precise location of the road in her future. She stood still a moment as memories replayed in her mind. She took a slow, steadying breath as she recalled the sensation of being pulled from Taran’s grasp.

  Wordlessly, he stepped up beside her then, taking her hand in his.

  She smiled up at him sadly. “You recognize it from my memories?” she asked.

  Taran nodded solemnly as he looked back at the cave mouth.

  Skye closed her eyes and declared hoarsely to her future King, “Almost home. Almost back where I belong.”

  Taran held her hand a little tighter.

  They made camp a short distance within the cave’s interior – eager to escape the chill rain, but none of them ready to venture further and face the location of their imminent farewell.

  Silence settled over them again as they worked. Taran made a fire. Skye unpacked supplies. Ciaran prepared the bedding. The very air
was thick with their shared, unspoken heartache.

  The plan was for Skye to sleep most of the day, with her men taking turns on watch. She knew she needed to rest, but it was nearly impossible to fall asleep. Her fears reminded her that there was no guarantee she would ever reach her men in the future. This might well be the last time she would hold them. She did not want to waste these hours sleeping.

  She resolved herself to at least lay nestled in each of their arms for as long as possible, to doze if she could, but to soak up every second, every touch.

  At day’s end, they sat together and ate, idly leaning against one another and watching the sun set. They were aware of each passing moment, and how it was drawing them closer to the unknown.

  When the moon was full and bright, Skye stood. Taran steadied himself as he watched her take Ciaran’s hand and urge him to his feet. When she raised her hand and reached toward Ciaran’s chest, he backed away suddenly.

  “Wait,” Ciaran whispered with a haunted, tearful look in his eyes. “I thought that I could do this, but… No. Please, stop.”

  Skye studied him worriedly. “Do not give you my power? Was it too painful? Did I harm you before?”

  Ciaran held up his hands imploringly. “It is not that. I just… Please stop. I cannot do this. I cannot lose you.”

  Skye frowned remorsefully. “Ciaran, I have to–”

  He shook his head and cut her off. “No, you do not. Please, just wait. We can find another way. Just…” His features twisted in anguish as he slowly lost his hold on the emotions bubbling up inside of him. When he could hold it in no longer, he sobbed desperately, “Just please, do not leave me here. You do not understand. I – I cannot do it again. Not even for you. I thought I could, but… I cannot go back to the way I was before. That terrible darkness. I cannot bear it. I will not survive it this time.”

  Taran’s lips parted and eyes widened in horrified understanding. It was as if Ciaran had finally removed the mask, revealing every bit of the brokenness and suffering Taran had always been too afraid to admit might lie beneath.

  Skye did not understand so easily. As she searched Ciaran’s eyes, trying to comprehend the meaning of his words, she was surprised to receive a flood of memories through their link. Ciaran tearfully surrendered to her his darkest secrets. His closely-guarded memories of hopelessness. A mortal life of private despair. A lifelong, indescribable hunger he had never been able to sate. The one truly bright spot in all his life had been his daughter, but then she was stolen away from him with such pitiless finality…

  With her blood still wet on his shirt, he had accepted the curse of immortality solely for the sake of avenging her. A matter of years later, however, he was ordered to stand down before the war was nearly finished. And then he was trapped. Sentenced to eternity in purgatory.

  For almost a century, he had gone through the motions of daily life in a fog. His mind had been an endless hurricane of grief, longing, and impotent rage. Outwardly, the only indicators of his carefully concealed suffering were his weak smile, soft-spoken voice, dim eyes, and stooped shoulders. He would have taken his life outright, were it not for Taran and Drostan. His brothers cared for him so deeply, he could not bear the thought of disappointing them. Failing them. Hurting them with his weakness. And so, he went on existing. Drawing breath when he had absolutely no desire to, purely for the sake of sparing his brothers the pain of his truth. In recent years, desperate for an escape, he had begun to court death. Dying by an enemy’s hand, Ciaran had reasoned, would at least be easier for Taran to stomach. Retaliatory slaughter would go a long way in helping Taran overcome his grief…

  Skye’s heart was broken as Ciaran shared with her recollections of several recent battles in which he had nearly died. Purposely putting himself in grave danger time and time again. Never fighting to the best of his abilities, unless in the defense of his brothers. How he had prayed each time he was wounded that perhaps, this time, death would finally claim him… only to face crushing disappointment each time he regained consciousness.

  Ciaran pulled back, closing off his memories once more as he choked out, “I cannot face the void again. I cannot live without you. Please. I swear to you I would rather die.”

  Skye wrapped her arms around him as he wept openly. Taran climbed to his feet and held Ciaran between them. He gripped the side of Ciaran’s head, kissing his hair as he muttered fervent apologies. Apologies for never calling Ciaran out on his act. For ignoring the gut feeling that something was very wrong. For allowing it to go on unchecked when, deep down, some part of him he had known Ciaran was hiding the full extent of his pain.

  They held Ciaran close until his shoulders no longer quaked with sobs, until he pulled away from their embrace. Ciaran wiped his cheeks and averted his gaze. His crystalline eyes were now red-rimmed and filled with shame.

  Beneath her sorrow for all that he had endured, Skye felt a sense of relief upon hearing his admission. She had worried that their union had been against his will. That he would not have chosen to be with her, were it up to him. That he would have been better off without the influence of her power. But Ciaran had lived his life without it long enough to decide for himself that together was infinitely better. He was happiest in her presence, no matter the reason. She was thankful for the way they made one another feel – for the light and joy they gave one another. And she simply refused to feel any more guilt for decisions and secrets that predated the both of them. She chose joy.

  Skye took his face in her hands gently and urged him to meet her eyes. She studied him adoringly. When she spoke, her voice echoed in that ethereal way he always responded to so strongly. She realized now that this was the Goddess in her. The part of her that had claimed him from their very first meeting, just as her Wolf had claimed Taran.

  “Ciaran, my beautiful, dark one… You will not live without me. I will be right here within you.” She placed her hand on his chest and began pouring her light into him.

  Ciaran gasped as his mouth dropped open. He leaned into her touch, wincing at the intensity of the sensation of her power flooding him. It was so much more forceful than it had been before. It was completely overwhelming. Something beyond rapture. Tears flowed unchecked from his eyes, but still, he held her gaze. He was utterly entranced by her voice as she went on.

  “Never again will you be left alone in the darkness. There shall be no more pain for you. My light and love will be here, shielding your heart, comforting you every second of every day. And in my physical absence, you will wander this world freely. You will know pleasure…” She trailed off, recalling all she had been told of his life. With a laugh, she assured, “So much pleasure. And joy and laughter and friendship. You will live every moment to its fullest. You will explore and cause mischief and have adventures. There will barely be a moment when a genuine smile does not grace these lips.”

  She pushed harder with her power, giving him every ounce of it.

  “My Goddess…” Ciaran moaned. His eyes glowed brightly with her white light before rolling closed.

  “My dark one…” she whispered back with a smile as she felt the end approaching. The last of her power was filling him. “This is my gift to you. For carrying my power through time to protect me, it shall warm and shield you from within, and it shall grant you a truly splendid life.”

  Once the last bit of her power had passed into Ciaran, she withdrew her hand. She did not anticipate the weakness that would strike the instant she broke their connection, but Taran clearly had. Just before she fell over, Taran stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms.

  Ciaran was not so lucky.

  With Skye nestled safely against him, Taran grimaced at the sound of Ciaran crumpling unceremoniously to the ground. He peered down with a guilty frown.

  “All right, brother?” Taran asked.

  “Hnnggggg…” Ciaran moaned, biting the backs of his fingers and breathing heavily as his entire body trembled with pleasure. He was far too overwhelmed by the se
nsations coursing through him to attempt words just yet. It felt as if his brain and skin and blood and bones and hair and teeth were orgasming.

  Skye smiled down at him. He looked even more sated than she had ever seen him before. She grinned to herself, deciding that – so long as she survived the battle ahead – she would have to try this move on him during sex some time. He would undoubtedly sleep for a week after. She could not freaking wait.

  “Shall I take you outside?” Taran asked curiously. “You will need to recover your power before you can travel, correct?”

  Skye looked up at him with tired eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

  Taran walked slowly, hoping to prolong the opportunity to hold her so closely. It was likely to be his last chance before she left. “Was that always the plan, then?” he asked in a soft, rumbling voice. “Giving your power to Ciaran as you did?”

  “It was,” Skye sighed and rested her head on his chest, reveling in the unexpected closeness.

  Taran’s brows drew together as he wondered, not for the first time, over Ciaran’s ability to accept and absorb Skye’s power. He wondered whether she ever did this with him in the future – whether he, too, was capable of such a thing. He decided quickly that he did not want to know. The act seemed somehow private. Sacred, even. Also, Taran’s prior experience receiving Skye’s power been a great deal less pleasurable.

  He stopped on a rise a short distance outside the cave. “Is this a good place?” he asked and waited for her to nod against him in reply. “How far away must I stand?” he asked anxiously. He did not want to leave her side while she was so weak.

  “You can hold me. It will not harm you,” she assured.

  Taran sighed in relief at that. Slowly, he sank down to his knees on the ground, then shifted to sit with her cradled in his lap. He watched, spellbound, as she closed her eyes and began absorbing the moon’s light. Her entire body took on a soft glow.