CHAPTER 103: BROTHER FINCH AND SISTER FINCH

The sea was restless that evening, its foam biting at the rocks like a dog tugging at its leash. Muirenn sat on the damp shore with her knees pulled up, eyes red from crying.

In her hand dangled a small seashell strung through a frayed bit of twine. She clutched it tightly.

Somner approached carefully, boots crunching the wet pebbles. He cleared his throat softly, crouching near her with a half-smile.

"That is a pretty thing you’re holding there," he said, nodding at the necklace. "Where’s it from, lass?"

Muirenn sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. "It’s none of your business."

Somner chuckled, leaning on his knees. "It is my business, actually. For I am your cousin. Me name’s Somhairle."

Her head jerked up, eyes widening at him. For a moment suspicion flashed, then softened as she studied his face. His hair glowed faint gold in the sunset, his eyes sharp green like Glasán’s yet gentler.

"You’re telling the truth," she whispered. "Are you my father’s kin, or my mother’s?"

Somner hesitated before answering: "Father’s side."

A shadow crossed Muirenn’s face, a faint downturn of her lips. She looked at the seashell again, twirling it with a finger.

"But maybe," Somner added lightly, "I have merrow blood too. For your father’s family is known for dark hair and dark eyes. I do not have them. Who is to say what courses through me?"

Muirenn blinked up, surprise sparking back into her. "So... you might be like me?"

"Perhaps. Though my power is not yet here." He tapped his chest with a grin. "But I dream of it. A dream where, one day, I will speak and all shall heed my voice. They will call me hero, though I only be using words."

She lowered her gaze, shoulders slumping. "So we’re both dreaming of the same thing." Her voice cracked. "It isn’t fair. Glasán has the gift already. I am as much my mother’s child as he is, yet I have nothing."

Somner studied her, the pain in her words cutting deep. He thought a moment, then began softly.

"Do you know the tale of the finch siblings?"

Muirenn shook her head, eyes still wet.

"There were once two finches born to the same nest. Just two eggs, just the two of them. The brother grew with a voice sweeter than any bird in the forest. When he sang, all others gathered to listen. The sister, though... her song only stirred quarrels. Wherever she cried out, strife followed, and she hated him for it."

Muirenn listened, her grip on the seashell loosening.

"One day, the brother sang his song, and a hawk heard. Down it swooped, claws sharp, wings fierce. The brother cried for help, but his sweet voice could not save him. And do you know who saved him?"

Muirenn shook her head again.

"His sister," Somner said with a faint smile. "The one who envied him. She threw herself at the hawk, and though it carried her away, the brother never forgot. They had only each other. No matter how much they fought, no matter the jealousy, still they were brother and sister."

The waves lapped against their feet.

Muirenn’s lips trembled as she sighed, long and heavy. "So... Glasán promised he would take me to the cave when I reach fifteen. He said then, and only then, could I claim what is mine."

"And if you did?" Somner asked gently. "What would you do with such a gift?"

She thought a long while, staring at the necklace in her palm. At last, she said, "I would be like the sister finch, but I wouldn’t sacrifice myself. That’s rubbish. If one hawk came, I would command another to fight it. That way I could help. That way my voice would mean something."

Somner’s chest warmed at her words.

He reached over and patted her head, smoothing back strands of her dark hair. "Your brother asked you to wait for a reason. Remember what you just told me, little one. When your time comes, never forget why you wanted the gift. Not for envy, not for wrath. For love."

Muirenn nodded slowly.

She smiled faintly, though her eyes were still rimmed with sorrow. "This seashell... it was my mother’s. She gave it to me when I was a baby. It has no power, nothing strange. But it is special. It is her mark. A way for me to keep her near

Somner smiled back, touched more deeply than he let on. He thought then of his own strange path. Of their mission here in this age.

["Maybe I too should leave a mark before we go back... something that says I was here."]

Muirenn wiped her tears. "I will go talk to my brother. Thank you, cousin Somhairle."

As Muirenn left, a voice came from behind the rocks.

"You really are persuasive."

Somner startled, then grinned as Hermes stepped out from behind a boulder, hands tucked into his belt, a wry smile on his face.

"Where have you been hiding, Master?" Somner asked in modern English.

Hermes walked over, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Listening to you tell Muirenn tales. And speaking of Muirenn... you’ll want to hear what Dante just told me."

So Hermes recounted everything: the half-brothers who would spread Sirentone through jealousy and betrayal, the oath Glasán would forge, the curse that would fall upon women of the line, and the blood feuds that would endure for centuries.

Somner’s eyes widened. "So by talking with her here, by planting a different thought.... I may have stopped her from the massacre she was meant to do?"

Hermes gave a thin smile. "Maybe. At least you’ve given her another path."

Somner’s grin spread wide, pride flickering in his green eyes. "Then that is a chance worth taking. I’ve left my mark then."

"Still," Hermes warned. "We cannot rest easy. Something changes her, and we still don’t know what."

Somner nodded, sobering. "Aye. We’ll watch her closely."

The tide was climbing, and the light was dimming fast. Hermes glanced toward the village. "It’s late. Aphrodite and Apple should be in the parchment shop by now, plotting their little schemes about the cave."

Somner laughed, shaking his head. "Those two are never still."

Together they left the shore and walked back to the winding paths of Ailech, where turf smoke hung in the air and dogs barked from the doorways. The parchment shop sat quiet at the far end of the street. Its shutters were closed, no lamp glowed within.

"That’s strange," Somner murmured. "No light, and his parents not here."

Hermes pulled a wick from his pouch, striking a spark until it caught. The faint glow lit their way as they stepped inside. Dust floated like motes in the beam. Shelves of parchment lined the walls, all in shadows.

Then they heard it.

A muffled sound, low at first, then clearer. Gasping, breathless, interspersed with small cries.

Hermes froze, the wick trembling in his hand. Somner tilted his head, confusion giving way to sudden realization.

The noises were coming from the back room.

A rhythm. Whispered words. The unmistakable sound of love-making.

The two boys stared at each other, faces pale with shock.

Hermes muttered under his breath, "You’ve got to be joking."

Somner’s mouth fell open, then twisted into an incredulous smile. "By the saints, is that...?"

Both held their breath as the sounds grew clearer. There was no doubt now.

Aphrodite and Apple were...