The Last Sídhe

3 - Of Lost Family

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," I growled, snatching up my mother's necklace and slipping it over my head. The rest of what I needed—mainly food and a water flask bundled inside my spare cloak—sat at my feet. Aeden stood off to the side, staring longingly at my door. I scowled at him, trying to think of anything else I could take. "Saving the world. Right. My cattle are going to starve, you know. If they die wandering around out there, it's your fault."

Aeden wrinkled his nose, which only made him look like more of a fool. "Good."

"I thought you were supposed to like animals," I said, shooting him a glare. I'd taken care of the cattle and this house for years, and now my entire life was slipping through my fingers. I was feeling a little snippy.

"Not them. Do you know how annoying it is to waddle around as a cow? Horses are far better." Aeden sniffed, as if disgusted by the mere topic of cattle, and tapped one foot on the ground.

I replied with one of my fingers and slung my bag over my shoulders. "Oi! Don't insult my livelihood."

"Then get a better one."

His casual impatience was getting on my nerves. I pulled upon the warmth streaming through my windows; orange flames snapped to life across my fingers, licking hungrily at the air. I wove them around my hand, blankly meeting Aeden's stare. "Shut up."

"No offence, of course," he said, hastily taking a step back. His eyes roved across my home, landing yet again on the door. "Ugh. I couldn't live like this. It's so... cramped."

"Then get out." I hobbled to my chest, growling a few curses as the pain in my leg spiked. "And get me a walking stick while you're at it."

Aeden grinned. "You don't like leaning on my arm? I'm hurt."

"Out."

With a short laugh, he spun around and nearly sprinted out the door. I winced as it banged shut. It had only been about fifteen minutes, but it was already obvious that keeping the man inside was dangerous.

I waited until I was sure I was alone. Only then did I let myself drop my head onto my arms and let the tears free.

Once I walked out that door, I promised myself I wouldn't look back. But in that moment, hidden in the soft shadows of my home with a moment of peace, I could quietly mourn the loss of a people. My people. Maybe I didn't live with other Sídhe, but we shared roots. I didn't want our traditions and stories and bonds to fade into obscurity. And I didn't want to be the last one. It wasn't my right to live, to carry on a legacy that I hardly knew.

I hoped that there was also a selfless, heroic part of me that didn't want to leave Rienne defenceless. Humans were skilled and resourceful, but that didn't mean they could stand against the Tremluí. We couldn't afford to lose them, too.

Yet no matter how hard I cried, it wasn't going to do me any good. I wiped my cheeks and straightened my shoulders, taking a steadying breath. To keep Rienne and the humans safe, I just had to make sure that the Tremluí never returned. Then, even if I was alone, I could die with some peace in my heart.

I pulled a sheet of old parchment and a quill from my chest and laid it upon the floor. I dipped the tip in some ink, thought for a moment, and began to scribble. My writing was impossibly messy, but I knew my father would be able to decipher it.

"What are you doing?" Aeden asked, materialising over my shoulder. His breath tickled the back of my neck as he leaned down.

I yelped and whipped around, driving my fist into his stomach. He doubled over with an audible oof, staggering back and falling onto his butt.