Gannon returned to his abode and walked straight through to the garden. The rains had returned, weighing down the greenery and the flowers. He cast off his clothing as he walked through to his usual place, now marked by an imprint of his body in the muddy patch of flowers. With a heavy sigh he sat down, cross-legged and cleared his mind.
The rain intensified and pelted him as he communed with Taladae. He had seen the visions before, but they were always cloudy. He could never see anything clearly when he communed with Taladae before, and then it was all supposition. What if Padraig were dead? Without an heir, the elder brothers would fight over the throne and war would come to Taladae. What if Kirwin and Sloane were dead? That would leave Naois as king. What if Naois conspired with the sidhe to murder his brothers? Regicide was an awful crime, unspeakable among royalty.
This time was different. He saw it all, every iteration of every decision he would be called upon to make. He saw the faces - all of them. He saw his Horde brethren, his uncles, his father and his brothers. He saw the ancient wooden door to the Hall of Cernunnos move before him as if it had come to life. He saw Naois's betrayal of his father, of the Horde, of House Lupuna. He saw the destruction he was to bring upon House Lupuna and the devastation his mother would suffer when it was all said and done. He was saddened and angered; surprised and appalled.
You know what you must do, young guardian.
YOU ARE READING
Trials of the Hunt
FantasyWhen the Wild Hunt rides at night, it blots out the sky and people disappear never to be seen again...or so the tales go. Prince Gannon almost cried when his father made him leave. A grown man, nearly reduced to tears when his father sent him away...
