FATE/CURADH BEAG

"Little Champion"

Chapter 18: Deirdre of Forced Sorrows

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those of you following along, I decided to take a break through October to get myself ready for NaNoWriMo this year, as it's pretty much the pattern by now. For some reason, FFNet's viewer stats and reviews are not working, so if you would like to leave a comment, I suggest going to my uploads on either Archive of Our Own or Wattpad. It's been going on for a few months now, and I don't know if FFNet has any plans on fixing it. Thanks for the continued support, everyone.

Tucked away in the deepest reaches of southern Emain Macha, a lone hut stood within the withering autumn forest. Not a vibrant blade of green grass nor any hint of flowers grew around here. There were only the various colors of fallen leaves strewn all about on the dry earth, and those too would lose their hue once winter came around. The air was as chilly as the forest was dull, not just because of the change in seasons, but due to Ireland floating just a bit further northward than what it was normally accustomed to. It was a sad and lonely place that was deliberately removed from human civilization. Not many people would want to have any business with such a secluded abode, but today would be an exception to the norm.

A small hand balled into a fist and knocked on the door several times. About half a minute later, it creaked open to reveal the hut's lone occupant. It was an elderly woman whose heavy expression was framed by a thick fur hood and cloak embellished with Celtic designs. She struggled to amble about with her crooked cane, and it took some effort for her just to look up at whoever her visitor was.

"Hm… oh?" the old woman murmured, taken aback by the number of people standing at her door. In total, there were three children, a young man, and a grey horse. She stared at the purple-haired girl who knocked on her door and mumbled, "Prithee, may I help thee?"

"Are you Madam Leabharcham, former court poet for King Conchobhar?" Connla asked in an even tone.

"Aye. Doth thou hath business with a withered crone such as myself?"

"I apologize if we have disturbed you. However, we urgently need to speak with you."

Leabharcham closed her eyes and sighed. She had a strong suspicion as to what the topic of discussion would be. Her weary heart felt even greater pain as she attempted to turn away, while grumbling, "I cannot be of any assistance. I wish only but to live mine final days in solitude. Leave me at once."

Before she could shut the door on them, the man suddenly said, "Please wait. I understand how difficult this must be for you, but we desperately need your help, Madam."

"… Huh?" the old woman paused, as she immediately recognized his voice. Her sagging eyes widened with shock when she took a closer look at the man and realized who he was. Her jaw dropped a bit as she uttered, "By the gods… Do mine eyes deceive me? Art thou… Naoise?"

"Yes, Madam. I am the man who took Deirdre's hand in marriage."

"How? How is this possible? Why doth thou walk the earth once more? Did Eogan mac Durthacht not slay thee and thine brothers?"

"He did. For all intents and purposes, I should be dead. However, due to the turbulent nature of this world, I have been granted the ability to return to the realm of the living as a being called a Servant."

"A… Servant, thou says?"

"Yes. Think of me as a temporary entity catered to protect humanity from all manners of threats. Right now, my sworn mission is to end the tragedies surrounding these lands. Deirdre continues to suffer even after her death, and I have vowed to bring peace to her, no matter what it may take. These children are accompanying me on my quest. Do you still wish to refuse hospitality for us?"

Leabharcham paused, taking a moment to consider what Naoise said. Eventually, she opened the door further and mumbled, "Very well. Though mine accommodations be lacking, rest thyselves around the fire and we shalt discuss this matter."

She welcomed the group inside, with Liath Macha resting outside. She made some hot water for them, then sat at her usual seat and murmured, "So, doth thou wish to know further of Deirdre's miserable state?"

"If there is anything you can tell us, we would greatly appreciate it," Naoise said. "Our understanding is that Deirdre is responsible for possessing young women from Emain Macha and driving them to commit suicide. We need to know where she could be hiding, and we figured you would know the most."

"How presumptuous of thee, to expect myself to know what hath become of that poor child. I hath already mourned thine deaths, and wish to live past such bitter experiences. For thou to return once to mine doorstep is an affront to mine grief enough as it is."

Naoise lowered his head in shame. "I'm sorry…"

Connla sipped her water and stared at them in silence. She couldn't fault Leabharcham for feeling so distressed. Even she couldn't believe that she was talking with the very same man who died trying to protect his wife from a jealous king. Once she heard Naoise's name, her mind had blanked with astonishment, unable to parse why he had returned. Once she heard his explanation about him being a Rogue Servant, things started to make more sense for her, and she welcomed him as part of her entourage. Despite her surprise however, she and Naoise were still just strangers to each other. She couldn't imagine how difficult this was for Leabharcham, and to say any words of comfort would just be seen as further insults.

Eventually though, the elderly poet sighed and murmured, "Alas, t'would seem it was an inevitable conclusion, given how Deirdre's tortured spirit still roams within Emain Macha's territory. I shalt tell thee what I know, but not for thine benefit. 'Tis for the children, who by all accounts should not involve themselves with this matter."

"Please, don't worry about us," Connla assured. "I am a pupil of Scathach, the Warrior-Witch of Dun Scaith, and am thus experienced with purifying lost souls. Fir and Fial are likewise trained to handle similar threats."

"Hmm…" Leabharcham groaned as she took a closer look at the child warrior's features. "Ah… Could it be? Nay, surely it must be coincidence…"

"Is something the matter?"

"'Tis nothing. Prithee, pay no mind to mine ramblings."

Connla wasn't sure what was going on, but decided not to ask. She set her cup down as she recalled something, and she retrieved the Mini Cu doll from her satchel as she said, "By the way, Cuchulainn said he wanted to ask you some questions."

"I beg thine pardon? Cuchulainn, thou says? The very same Cuchulainn who ravaged unknown lands and drowned them in endless ocean?"

"I know it's hard to believe, but-"

Suddenly, the doll twitched with life. His arms and legs stretched as his Spirit Origin struggled to adjust to his secondary body. He then muttered, "Someone say my name?"

Leabharcham blinked in repressed surprise. She wasn't sure what to say at first, but then murmured, "Might this be some rendition of the puca?"

"The puca? Um…" Connla mumbled. She knew what the puca were; essentially, they were shapeshifting goblins capable of beneficial or menacing acts. Folklore surrounding them was vague at best, so it was assumed that their 'gifts' depended on the mood and personality of any individual puca.

"Eh, sure. Let's go with that," Mini Cu shrugged. He didn't want to bore her with the actual details, especially considering he was curious to know something else. "I had the kid bring me along because I wanted to ask you something about my uncle, Conchobhar."

"Thou art his nephew. Thou wouldst know him better than I."

"As far as his life goes, you're right about that. But since I was away for so long, I don't know anything about his death. How did the old man finally bite the dust?"

Naoise folded his arms and said, "I'm kind of curious to know as well, seeing as how that bastard ruined Deirdre's life from the moment she was born."

Leabharcham frowned a bit, then closed her eyes. "I see… Mine liege's passing is inexorably intertwined with Queen Medb's forced stewardship of the province of Ulster. Thou must assume that she played a part in his assassination."

"So he was offed, wasn't he? Can't say that surprises me," Mini Cu grumbled.

"Aye, but not by the queen's hand. In fact, one could say it was a delayed assassination."

"Meaning?"

"Thou art familiar with the Connacht warrior Cet mac Magach, no? Thine brother Conall was his own nephew."

"Yeah, I know him. The guy was a battle-hardened brute in his own right. He was so desperate to be seen as number one that he was responsible for distorting Conall's neck back when he was a small child, fearing that Conall would become a better warrior than him when he grew up."

"Correct," Leabharcham nodded. "Cet pilfered one of Conall's trophy possessions - the liathróidí inchinne of Mesgegra, King of Leinster - and fired it from his sling at Lord Conchobhar's head, embedding it deep within his skull. Miraculously, the strike did not slay mine liege, but the physician druids were unable to remove it. Thus, they sewed the wound and told him not to overexert himself, lest it burst."

"Damn, that's crazy…"

Fir leaned in and whispered into Connla's ear, "Um, what's a liathróidí inchinne?"

She told him in a hushed voice, "It's a ball made from calcified brain matter. A brain-ball, if you would."

"Eww!" Fial cringed. "That's gwoss! Why would anyone wanna have something wike that!?"

"Warriors back in the Age of Gods used to preserve the brain-balls of a deadly opponent they defeated as a trophy. It's gone way out of style by now, but I guess some people still practice it here and there when the slain opponent was a king."

The twins visibly shuddered at the idea, practically shivering to fend off the heebie-jeebies. Mini Cu quickly hushed them silent, then said to Leabharcham, "Sorry about that. Please continue."

She nodded and said, "There is little more to say, other than that the liathróidí inchinne inevitably burst from mine liege's head when he grew stressed from the news of thine defeat during the Cattle Raid. The terror of being rendered fully helpless to Medb's siege must hath been too much for him to handle, and Cet's assassination finally came to pass seven years after he sustained his injury."

"Yeah, I guess knowing that Ulster was going to fall to Connacht would do something to that man's fragile ego. Not that I had any obligation to protect him from having a freakin' brain-ball explode out of his skull during the raid. My duty was to defend my home country, not to help him stay alive."

Naoise appeared smug as he said, "As far as I'm concerned, that's quite the fitting death for Conchobhar. He had to live out his final years in the same sort of looming fear that he forced Deirdre to endure her whole life. You could say that Conchobhar was the embodiment of a brain-ball for Deirdre herself."

Leabharcham suddenly shot him a foul glare, and she snapped, "Prithee, spare the foul quibbles in front of such young children!"

"O-Oh..." he uttered as he sheepishly glanced back at the uncomfortable trio.

Connla coughed in a deliberate manner to get the conversation back on track, then said, "I'm not sure why Cuchulainn is so interested in King Conchobhar's death, but that's not why we are here. No matter how you may feel about Deirdre, the fact is that innocent people are dying because of her, and we have an obligation to stop it. If there's anything you can tell us about where she would be, it would be an immense help, Madam Leabharcham."

The old woman rubbed her forehead to fend off a pulsing headache, then murmured, "Alas... T'would further besmirch Deirdre's good name if she continues to plague the uninvolved with her endless suffering. Yet, I fear I may betray her if I speak any further..."

"Please. It's not just for the victims. We want to put her to rest as well."

Leabharcham paused for a long moment. Eventually though, she said, "... Go to the site of her death."

Naoise's excitement grew exponentially as he yelped, "You mean the rock that she used to commit suicide?"

"Aye. The reason Emain Macha's victims hath been possessed is due to them passing by that rock, where her soul still lingers. She latches upon them, and exposes them to continuous nightmares of mine liege's jeering and torment, driving them to sheer madness out of grief."

"Sounds like Deirdre's got a strong attachment with that rock," Mini Cu said. "It was responsible for finally freeing her from Conchobhar's influence, after all."

Fial wondered, "Where awe we gonna find this wock? There awe, wike, thousands and thousands of wocks evewywhere."

"Worry not," Leabharcham assured as she took out a spare scroll and used a piece of charcoal to doodle a basic map. "Follow the path northeast from here, 'til thou enters the crossroads between Emain Macha and Belfast. T'was the route mine liege sent Deirdre upon when she hath been forcibly bethrothed to Eogan, and where the rock shalt be found. 'Tis difficult to miss."

"Oh, Fial and I know this area," Fir said. "We passed by here several times during our travels. It's a popular route between Ireland and Scotland... Or rather, it was."

"Say, Fir," Fial wondered, "you think it couwd be that big bouwder that Auntie always towd us to stay away fwom?"

"Could be."

Connla's eyes widened slightly as she asked, "Do you two know where it is?"

"Sort of. For some reason, Auntie instructed us to go all the way around that path whenever we were in the area. She never said why, other than it was a cursed region. The only thing we know about it is that there's a huge boulder at an intersection."

Naoise nodded gravely and said, "That has to be it."

"All right. No point in sitting around here, so let's get moving," Connla said, and the group prepared themselves to depart. "Thank you for the hospitality, Madam Leabharcham. I know this must have been extremely hard for you, but we'll resolve this case one way or another. We won't let Deirdre continue to suffer alone, and we'll prevent further victims from taking their own lives."

"Alas, t'would be the best course of action, it seems..." the elderly poet murmured in resignation. "I shalt pray for all of thee, including Deirdre."

With that, the four adventurers left the hut behind. Connla retrieved Liath Macha just as he was waking up from his nap, and they proceeded onward to the northeastern region between Emain Macha and Belfast. Leabharcham watched them from the front doorstep, refusing to take her eyes off of them until their forms vanished into the autumn forest. Soon, all that remained were the ambient sounds of leaves rustling in the breeze and crows cawing in the distance. She closed her eyes in deep contemplation.

Without a word, she went back into her tiny house, fetched a satchel full of basic supplies, then locked the door behind her and left the key beneath the mat.

Three hours later, the group emerged from the dense forest and found themselves on the plains that stretched all around the dried-up Lough Neagh. Connla panned her eyes across the area, then asked, "Which way do we go from here?"

"It's this way," Fir said. He and Fial eagerly took the lead, guiding Connla and Naoise through such long and seemingly endless grassland that it would have been easy to get lost without either a map or a local's guidance. During the trip, Mini Cu had gone back to sleep, since Cuchulainn seemed to have some important business back in Scotland. This left Connla perplxed about why he even bothered to show up in the first place, and Naoise noticed her unusual expression.

"What's the matter?" he asked her. "Are you not feeling well?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm just a bit confused about why Cuchulainn wanted to ask Madam Leabharcham about King Conchobhar."

"I'll admit, that was kind of strange. He's already dead. He shouldn't have anything to do with this incident whatsoever. Maybe Cuchulainn just wanted to know what happened to his uncle after being gone for so long."

While Connla did agree with him, she also didn't think it was that simple. Maybe there was something more that he suspected, but he didn't want to elaborate since he didn't have sufficent proof. Furthermore, there was something else that kept bothering Connla this whole time:

What does any of this have to do with the Leyline?

The whole reason she was doing any of this was to protect the Leyline, and Cathbad did say that Deirdre of the Sorrows was a threat to its stability. So far, she wasn't seeing any reason why Deirdre was endangering it. So many things were not adding up, and she was getting worried that there was some insignificant detail she missed that would wind up threatening them if she wasn't careful.

"Hey, what awe you guys doing!? Huwwy up, or we'll weave you behind!" Fial shouted from several yards away.

"Coming!" Naoise shouted as he and Connla caught up with the twins.

"Just a wittle wonger! We're awmost there!"

"Yes, I can sense it," Connla murmured darkly. "The atmosphere already feels heavy."

Before they could say anything further, that was when they noticed Fir running towards them in obvious distress. He shouted, "Something bad's going on!"

"What's the matter?" Naoise asked.

"There's a lady heading toward the rock with a knife in her hands! I asked her what she was doing, and she said she wanted to kill herself! I couldn't stop her whatsoever!"

"Damn it!" the warrior cursed and immediately sprung toward the road in question. Connla was quicker however, activating some wind Runes to boost her speed so she could burst off the ground like a rocket and sail towards the path. She landed in the grass nearby, then clamored onto the dirt road and ran towards the woman in question. She didn't look any older than 18 or 19, appearing severely morose and lethargic. She indeed carried a kitchen knife in one hand while sauntering towards a distinct boulder at the intersection.

"Stop right there!" Connla shouted at her, spreading her arms out wide. "I can't let you pass any further!"

The teenager moaned, "Ahh... Get out of the way... If I don't do something... I'm going to have to... marry Eogan..."

"Lady Deirdre, listen to me! You died a long time ago! You already freed yourself from Conchobhar's control! You don't need to do this!"

"No... I can't escape... My nightmares won't stop... Only death will set me free..."

Connla immediately realized that rationalizing with her was not going to work, so she branished her spear and prepared to strike, hoping to at least knock the dagger out of the victim's hands. Unfortunately, the girl pointed the knife at her own neck in desperation and shrieked, "STAY BACK! COME ANY CLOSER AND I'LL DO IT!"

The child warrior halted in mid-step and grimaced. What was she supposed to do? If she tried anything, be it with her spear, slingshot, or Runes, she would cause the girl to panic and slit her own throat. Terror gripped her mind as she thought back to Eabha, the woman she saw jump off the edge of the island back in Sgaradh, and of the sight of Declan's body hanging from the noose. Was she going to watch someone else die? Would she blame herself for not preventing a third tragedy from occurring?

"Please... get out of the way..." the possessed teenager pleaded.

Connla had no choice. She hesitantly took several steps back to clear the road for her, but still kept a firm grip on her spear with both hands. Before the victim could advance any further however, a black-armored figure emerged from behind and punched her in the face before she even knew he was there!

"Whoa!?" Connla cried out, completely caught off guard by this sudden development. It took her a moment to realize that Naoise had used the opportunity to knock out the teenager while she had been distracted with Connla. The knife flew out of her hands and clattered onto the road.

"There. That takes care of that," he grunted as he quickly retrieved the knife so it wouldn't cause any further problems.

Just then, a chalky grey aura emanated from the unconscious girl and swirled around the pair. An unfamiliar woman's cry echoed with a disturbing reverb effect, then part of the cloud materialized into a beautiful red-haired woman who wore a silky green dress layered with white cloth and Celtic-themed jewelry. As much as Connla wanted to get a better look at her, her body felt like it was being pressed down by an immense weight tied directly to her heart, and she collapsed onto one knee.

A bizarre vision played itself out before her eyes. She consciously knew it didn't belong to her, but the feeling of inescapable depression prevented her from thinking rationally. Moments later, she was forced into the role of Deirdre as she spoke with an older man who wore royal attire.

"I have had enough. If you will not reciprocate my love, then tell me who it is you hate the most," the man, obviously Conchobhar, demanded to Deirdre.

"Is it not obvious? I loathe every fiber of your detestable being. But... I also despise Eogan mac Durthacht, for he is the one who deprived me of my true love Naoise."

"Eogan, you say? Very well. As punishment for rejecting your king, I shall have you wed to him instead."

"What kind of demented joke is this!? What have I done to deserve this!?"

"Fate had decreed that you would be beautiful, and only a king is deserving of possessing such a beautiful woman. Your coldness toward me is an affront to what many see as the natural course of things. If my lineage will not benefit from your beauty, then I would rather have it diminish between you and Eogan. I'm sure he will see this as a reward for his loyalty toward me, but make no mistake; given a few generations, his inherent ugliness will be what destroys your own offspring's beauty."

"I did not ask to be beautiful! If I knew I would live such a nightmarish life beneath your oppressive shadow, I would have asked to be born ugly instead!"

"Your opinion is of no consequence to me, bitch! Surrender yourself to Eogan and suffer like the ewe trapped between two rams that you are!"

The two guards that accompanied Conchobhar immediately seized Deirdre before she could flee, and tied her up with ropes before throwing her onto a chariot to be taken away. As the chariot rolled up to the fateful intersection, absolute terror gripped Deirdre's soul. She could think of nothing other than finding a way to avoid having to marry Eogan as some form of twisted entertainment for Conchobhar. She saw the boulder fast approaching, and while the charioteer wasn't looking, she leapt out and threw herself headfirst onto the rock at top speed...

"Hyah!?" Connla squealed at the moment of impact. She regained her senses, realizing that she was still fine. She was just a bit shocked from seeing such a grotesque vision, but she knew she wasn't injured in any way. Normal people would have likely succumbed to sheer insanity, but she had gained some resistance to these effects thanks to Scathach's teachings plus her time in the Celtic underworld. She shakily got back onto her feet and looked around to see what was happening.

"Deirdre!" she heard Naoise shouting, followed by his running footsteps. She saw him chasing after the murky spirit as it drifted off toward the boulder. Although still woozy from the temporary possession, Connla tried to stumble after him.

"Connwa!" Fial exclaimed, as she and Fir reunited with her and helped her stand upright.

"Wow, you look really pale. Are you going to be okay?" Fir murmured in concern.

"I'm all right," Connla assured them. "It's just an aftereffect of witnessing a spirit's moment of death. It'll go away shortly."

"If you say so."

"I'm more worried about you two getting caught up in this, since you don't have any protection from spiritual possession. I'm going to go help Sir Naoise deal with Lady Deirdre, but I can't protect you both at the same time. That's why you guys absolutely need to stay as far away from her as you can."

"Okay," Fial nodded nervously. "Fir and I will stay wight here."

Now that she didn't feel so dizzy, Connla wielded her spear and hurried after Naoise. At the intersection, she found the troubled warrior keeping one hand on his sheathed sword, but he clearly refused to draw it against his beloved. All he could do was stare in disbelief as Deirdre hovered over the rock that ended her life, her elegant form drowning in the inky grey clouds that symbolized her endless depression.

"Deirdre..." Naoise shuddered, feeling utterly helpless. "I finally get to see you again, and you hardly even recognize me. What am I supposed to do? How can I save you from your eternal torment?"

"Get it together, Sir Naoise! We still have a chance!" Connla exclaimed.

"Don't be ridiculous! The only thing we can do is banish her to the next life through force! There's no way I can strike down the woman I love!"

"We don't need to resort to violence. If we get her to recognize you, she might wake up."

"Will that work?" he asked with renewed hope.

"It's not a guarantee, but it's worth a shot. I'll erect some Shield Runes to deflect her attacks, and get in some Nauthiz Runes to dispel that aura surrounding her. You just need to call out to her."

"Is that going to hurt her?"

"It's just free-flowing emotions that have escaped her psyche. It might feel like a pin prick to her, but it's nothing lethal. The more I can dispel it, the more likely she'll hear your voice."

Naoise wasn't entirely satisfied that Deirdre would have to feel any sort of pain, but it was certainly better than having to destroy her with his own blade. With resolve in his voice, he exclaimed, "All right, let's do it!"

Now that they had a plan, Connla rushed in between Naoise and Deirdre and threw some Runestones into the air the moment she saw some hostile lesser spirits swarming toward her from the grey darkness surrounding the tormented woman. The stones burst and released energy that formed into a series of barriers that blocked the enemy's advance enough for her to fire some concentrated shots of bright blue flames at them. The Nauthiz projectiles dispersed the spirits and forced them to temporarily retreat.

Looks like my intuition was right - her aura is capable of creating poltergeists. But it doesn't look like she's conscious enough to generate them on her own, Connla wondered.

Poltergeists were something like an offshoot of regular spirits. Rather than possessing any free will of their own, poltergeists would spawn from a ghost's lingering emotions and attachments to the world, manifesting as hostile entities of their own that functioned solely based on whatever emotion it was born from. She suspected that the women who were committing suicide around Emain Macha weren't actually being possessed by Deirdre herself, but by these poltergeists that ran around rampant. The trouble was that ghosts tended to have full control of their offspring, yet Deirdre's eyes remained closed and impassive to everything that was happening around her.

"Deirdre! Deirdre, my love! Do you not recognize me!? It is Naoise, your beloved husband!" the warrior cried out at the top of his voice.

"Mm... uuuh..." Deirdre moaned in her sleep.

"I'm right here! Open your eyes and you will see me!"

"Oooh... aaaah!" she suddenly gripped her head and howled in distress. "Leave me be! I can't stand you anymore!"

"What are you saying, my love!? Even after death did us part, I swore we would be together forever!"

"I can't do it anymore! I can't tolerate being your plaything any longer! Just let me die in peace!"

Naoise's eyes widened in confusion. "Huh? Your... plaything?"

Connla blasted some poltergeists away that got too close, then paused when she heard Deirdre's unusual cries. All of her doubts regarding this incident started to surface, but it wasn't because she was perplexed. The moment she heard that, the puzzle was practically solving itself in her head.

Deirdre of the Sorrows... protecting the Leyline... random suicides... Cuchulainn's curiosity about Conchobhar's death... poltergeists that she isn't controlling...

Finally, she reached the solution she was looking for, and she shouted enthusiastically, "That's it!"

"W-What's it!? Did you figure something out!?" Naoise cried out.

"I think so. Don't worry; when she said she didn't want to be a plaything, she wasn't talking to you. In fact, I don't think she realizes we're standing in front of her."

"Then who was she speaking to!?"

"I need a little more time to draw them out. She's regaining consciousness, so just keep encouraging her to fight back."

"Okay!" he yelped, then turned to Deirdre and screamed, "It's all right now! My friend and I are here to help you! Whatever may plague your soul, we will fight it together!"

"Aaah... I-Is that... Naoise?" Deirdre whimpered in pain.

"Yes! I'm right in front of you!"

"It... can't be..." she moaned, then finally opened her eyes. "This isn't another nightmare? You're not... a fleeting dream that I cannot grasp?"

"Your eyes do not deceive you! I am as real as the grass swaying in the breeze!"

"Uuuh... aaaahn! It hurts! It hurts so much!"

"What hurts!? What ails you, my love!?"

"M-My head... my body... my heart... everything... I can barely... control myself..."

"You must fight it! Nay, we'll stand strong and fend this evil off together! It has lost its grip on your consciousness! That means as long as we do not relent, we can be victorious!"

"No, you must stay away! If you don't, I might wind up destroying you, just as I did to those poor women!"

As Naoise and Deirdre continued talking to each other, Connla burned away more poltergeists that spawned from the darkness. However, the malevolent aura was visibly shrinking. As its size decreased, she activated a pair of tiny Runes directly on her eyes to allow her to see spiritual entities that could not be witnessed with normal sight. Finally, she spotted what she was looking for.

"There they are," she whispered to herself. She proceeded to draw some Runes on the ground, chanting, "Nauthiz, Uruz, Sowilo, Dagaz…"

She jabbed the non-bladed end of her spear into the center of this magic circle, enchanting it with a special spell Scathach taught her. Naoise wasn't sure what she was doing… but then panicked when Connla charged straight for Deirdre and prepared to slash her weapon at her!

"STOP!" he shrieked.

However, he soon realized that Deirdre remained unharmed as Connla landed. He noticed that something seemed off when he saw her slash not at his beloved, but rather at the air above her. What was she supposed to be cutting if her blade never hit anything?

"Ah… aaah!" Deirdre gasped and fell forward onto the ground. As if water rushed in and washed away a patch of dirt on clothing, the grey aura surrounding her suddenly vanished. Any poltergeists that remained also disappeared.

"Deirdre!" Naoise cried out and kneeled next to her to help her sit up. "Are you all right!?"

"I… I don't know why… but I feel so much lighter now…"

"What do you mean?"

"It's like… a huge weight's… been lifted off my shoulders. I can actually… breathe fine…"

He grew more and more confused. "You're… feeling better? Why?"

Connla stood up, then turned around and glared up at the sky above them as she declared, "I knew it. She was being haunted."

Behind her, Fir and Fial arrived when they saw that the battle was working out in Connla and Naoise's favor. Fir heard what Connla said and wondered, "Haunted?"

"You mean wike she was being possessed?" Fial added.

"Close, but not quite," Connla shook her head. "Possession is when the victim completely loses consciousness, allowing the possessor to take over as the dominant personality. Hauntings work a little differently. Instead of directly inhabiting their victim, a haunter will function more like an invisible negative influence that drives their target to do irrational things to escape from their constant turmoil. The method is different, but the principle is still the same – an oppressor forcing their target to do something against their will.

"In Lady Deirdre's case, her haunter was forcing her to recall the worst moments of her life over and over again, driving her to the point of suicide constantly. But since Lady Deirdre didn't understand that she was already dead, she unwittingly took over the bodies of women around her age and was going around killing herself to try and escape. That's the true source behind all of the suicides going on around Emain Macha. But there's nothing to worry about anymore. I just severed the threads tying both haunter and victim together."

As Naoise listened to Connla's explanation, he grew more and more enraged that some sinister force had been manipulating his wife this whole time. His scowl grew harsher by the second as he yelled, "Who!? Who's the bastard responsible for this!?"

"I would think it's obvious by this point. He's materializing as we speak."

Everyone stared up at the sky, watching as a skeletal ghost wearing tattered king's garb and donning a shabby crown hovered before them. Rotten flesh clung to his bones, and organs writhed around his ribcage and dangling spine like worms. The revolting sight made Fial squeal and hide behind her brother. Deirdre trembled and clung to Naoise like a frightened child. Connla never turned her eyes away, boldly standing between this hideous ghost and her startled companions.

"Woo~oooh! Who is it!? Who dares to impede on my almighty presence!?" the spirit howled angrily.

Naoise's eyes practically dropped out of their sockets as pure shock overcame him. He scowled, "That voice… It's you, isn't it!?"

He let out the loudest scream of his life as he called out their enemy's name:

"CONCHOBHAR!"