“Is it true?” Niamh asked. She was injured, lying on a pallet while someone pressed a poultice to her shoulder, and she tried to sit up, but the medic hissed and shoved her back down.
Odran turned his sightless eyes toward the flames; in their golden glow, his irises were almost black.
“They are fading. Their magic wasn’t strong enough, because they only had their blood signs and not the power of the gods,” he said. “They will not return until they have more power.”
“For now, we have the most power,” Deagan said. He turned and grinned at Ciaran.
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