Ciaran lunged, caught a man in the belly, twisted his wrist the way Brenna taught him. The man went down with a gurgle, and then Ciaran was at his father’s side.
A third man lunged, and Ciaran stepped in, brought up his shield. His sword flew from his hand, and he reacted the only way he knew how - by throwing fire. Then he spun to face Eoghan.
“Da!”
Eoghan turned to him, face twisted in horror.
“Run - while you still can,” Ciaran said.
“Monster,” Eoghan snarled.
Ciaran smelled burning flesh, but that didn’t matter.
“Da, please - it’s not too late.”
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