The Last Sídhe

Revision Announcement & Sneak Peek

Hello! It's been over a year now (which is such a crazy thought) since I finished this little novella. It's... strange, looking back on it. Strange, scrappy, and very unfinished--which is why I'm working on rewriting it! 

Unfortunately, I likely won't be publishing the rewrite on Wattpad: I'm aiming to publish once I finish and clean up the second draft, or perhaps third. It'll be a long process, but I will be posting the rewrite on my personal Discord server. The link is in my bio, for anyone interested.

All that being said, I think it's about time I give y'all a sneak peek of the first revised chapter! I'm quite proud of how far the worldbuilding and characters have come, and am more than excited to get back into this story. A whole lot is changing, but rest assured that Maeve never has and never will lose her sass :D

IMPORTANT NOTE: This and the rest of the second draft are now published on my profile as The Sun Sídhe. If you want to read, I'd recommend going there instead!

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1 - The Soul's Flame

It was a fine day to be pissed.

Mist hung thick in the air, swirling across the muddied ground with a sluggish grace. The dirt road I trod, already jagged and worn, was cratered with deep puddles. I didn't bother avoiding them as I strode through the centre of Tirlagh, cold, damp, and thoroughly annoyed. My boots were soaked through anyway, and there was a dull satisfaction to be had sending water flying with every step.

Being called from my home in the wee hours of morning was bad enough. Having to slog across acres of hilly, storm-torn terrain was worse. But what really infuriated me was that they'd waited so long to call.

"Maeve."

I ignored the young man's voice and stamped in another pool of water. It sloshed up my leg in an icy wave, drenching the leg of my trousers. A groan echoed over my shoulder, followed by the scrape of hasty footsteps. I ignored that, too.

"Maeve, your hands are on fire again."

"Aye. That's what happens when people wait until their boy's nearly dead before asking for help, Ronan," I growled, shaking out my wrists. Flames I hadn't noticed trailed behind my fingers, burnishing the mist around me orange-gold. At my command, they died away. Without them, the path seemed much darker; only the weak light of the sunrise allowed me vision.

My brother appeared by my side, running a hand over his tangled brown hair. I refused to acknowledge him. He was annoyingly tall—if he didn't have such long legs, I would've lost him a long while ago.

But he did, and I hadn't. Ronan reached for me, but seemed to think better of it and pulled back. That was good. His self-preservation was still intact. "A lot of the people in this town are scared of you, Maeve."

"I know. Your point?" I tramped down a bend in the road, narrowing my eyes to see better through the mist. Houses rose up around us, still and silent. It seemed most people in the village were still asleep. Lucky bastards.

"I was getting to it," Ronan sighed. "You're one of the aes sídhe, Maeve. Fear keeps people from reaching out. It will take time."

"Time?" I spun around—Ronan nearly walked into me before catching himself. I reached up to prod his chest, anger warming my blood. "I've done this for years, Ronan! Every time somebody catches an illness, I have done this. And I've never failed in helping. How much time do they need to learn that I am not going to curse them, or—or whatever it is they're so scared of? Moon and sun, I don't even ask for payment." I frowned at the last bit. I really ought to. Perhaps a free meal every now and then, or spare clothes.