After eclipse-
Filled with a new, cold determination, I walked into the old Methodist cemetery. I didn't see Ciaran anywhere, big surprise; I was about 20 minutes early.
Suddenly, a lilting voice greeted me, "Morgan." I swiveled to find Ciaran standing behind me. I hadn't felt him coming. "I hope you have come here to make me happy, to tell me that we will be the most remarkable witches the world has ever seen." He said, his voice slipping into me like a fog. "Yes, I have." I said reluctantly. I had realized that the only to save Kithic would be to join my father, Ciaran. I would join him, but my heart would still be here, in widow's vale, with Kithic.
His smile was like the moon coming out from behind a bank of clouds. "You have chosen well, Morgan. You still choose me in the end, your father." He said to me. "Do you really think I would willingly join you? You and your coven of witches who only know how to murder people?" I shouted at him. His features slowly began to change, from a smile to anger. He looked terrifying under the moonlight, in one swift move; he slapped me, so hard that I staggered back a few steps. "You will not criticize Amyranth in front of me." He said calmly, all traces of the violence he had portrayed a minute ago, gone.
I took my hand away from my throbbing cheek, realizing what a mistake I had made, he was stronger than me, physically and magically. "Sorry," I mumbled. "That's better," he replied. "What will happen to Kithic?" I asked him. "Nothing, the dark wave will not be sent." He told me.
"Shall we go now?" Ciaran asked impatiently. "Where to?" "Scotland." "How are we going to get there?" "Plane." "Fine."
A few hours later, we were on our way to Scotland in the plane. I fell asleep on the ride...
Ciaran
I watched Morgan sleep, looking exactly like Maeve. How I regretted slapping her, I had been so angry, back at the power sink. Gently, I touched her cheek, I could still make out a faint fingerprint on it. Looking closely, I saw that it was a bit swollen! I never wanted to hurt her. Why Maeve never told me about her, I would never know. How I wish I had raised her, I want us to be closer, I wanted her want her to trust me. And, most of all, I want her to acknowledge me, as her father.
"Would you like anything to drink, sir?" an air stewardess asked me. "No, no, thank you." I told her politely.
Filled with a new, cold determination, I walked into the old Methodist cemetery. I didn't see Ciaran anywhere, big surprise; I was about 20 minutes early.
Suddenly, a lilting voice greeted me, "Morgan." I swiveled to find Ciaran standing behind me. I hadn't felt him coming. "I hope you have come here to make me happy, to tell me that we will be the most remarkable witches the world has ever seen." He said, his voice slipping into me like a fog. "Yes, I have." I said reluctantly. I had realized that the only to save Kithic would be to join my father, Ciaran. I would join him, but my heart would still be here, in widow's vale, with Kithic.
His smile was like the moon coming out from behind a bank of clouds. "You have chosen well, Morgan. You still choose me in the end, your father." He said to me. "Do you really think I would willingly join you? You and your coven of witches who only know how to murder people?" I shouted at him. His features slowly began to change, from a smile to anger. He looked terrifying under the moonlight, in one swift move; he slapped me, so hard that I staggered back a few steps. "You will not criticize Amyranth in front of me." He said calmly, all traces of the violence he had portrayed a minute ago, gone.
I took my hand away from my throbbing cheek, realizing what a mistake I had made, he was stronger than me, physically and magically. "Sorry," I mumbled. "That's better," he replied. "What will happen to Kithic?" I asked him. "Nothing, the dark wave will not be sent." He told me.
"Shall we go now?" Ciaran asked impatiently. "Where to?" "Scotland." "How are we going to get there?" "Plane." "Fine."
A few hours later, we were on our way to Scotland in the plane. I fell asleep on the ride...
Ciaran
I watched Morgan sleep, looking exactly like Maeve. How I regretted slapping her, I had been so angry, back at the power sink. Gently, I touched her cheek, I could still make out a faint fingerprint on it. Looking closely, I saw that it was a bit swollen! I never wanted to hurt her. Why Maeve never told me about her, I would never know. How I wish I had raised her, I want us to be closer, I wanted her want her to trust me. And, most of all, I want her to acknowledge me, as her father.
"Would you like anything to drink, sir?" an air stewardess asked me. "No, no, thank you." I told her politely.