Ciaran sat up and pushed Brenna’s blankets aside. “The invaders are gone?”
“For now,” Niamh said. “You frightened them pretty well. I’m not going to lie - it was very impressive. You didn’t need to cast or anything. The fire is in your blood.” She grinned, the expression gleeful and fierce, and Ciaran felt his stomach turn.
He could still remember the scent of burning flesh, could hear the screams. If he closed his eyes, he could remember - his father crying, and a woman screaming, and that same smell, and -
“Easy, lad,” Deagan said, patting Ciaran’s back as he retched violently.
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