What followed was beyond words. One moment, Ciaran was gazing at a reflection of the trees. The next he was looking at...living fire. It flickered and danced, formed the face of a woman, and Ciaran knew. She was his mother. He knew her smile and her laughter, and then she said his name.
Ma, he whispered, reached for the bowl, but then he felt the heat, the flames skimming the surface and calling his name.
My son. It wasn’t her voice he heard - it was her that he felt. Join me. Be one with the magic.
With the flames.
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