Forever Is Not So Long A Time If You Spend It With One Who You Desire Eternity With.

Bertran fell to his knees as he felt the wondrous heat wrap about him as his markings illuminated the room with Victoria’s. He threw his head backward, his eyes seeking and immediately finding hers and knowing that she was the answer, the answer to so many questions he had not even knew existed before this very second. He knew that she was the key to the door he had been bashing his face into for longer than he could even remember anymore. His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke to Victoria, her eyes moist with tears as she looked down at him.

“Goddess, I ask you, nay I beg you, please tell me what I am, why I am this.” He had said it, he had been waiting to ask that question his entire life. He had asked it before of course, just never to anyone that was not a charlatan, a snake-oil salesman, an ally of darkness and the demonic.

Victoria reached down with both hands and lifted him to his feet, slowly guiding him to divan where she sat him down, sending calm into him so that he would take this moment in for the immense thing that it was and not panic through it. Her voice was wistful, almost smiling as she began to speak, the words making the room, all there was to see was grass on a plain that extended beyond sight in all directions.

“I was born, aye. I was born to parents and had siblings by the dozen. The Fae were a population that outnumbered modern man five thousand to one. Hundreds of billions of us on a planet that has not existed in thousands and thousands of years. The Fae count time differently than mortal man, immortals do not need to keep such precise measurements. In the counting of the years of man however, I am hundreds of thousands of years old. I will live a hundred thousand times that and more beyond. Immortality is true. It is not the tale the Irish have told, not the Darkness that feeds on the essence, but it exists. It is a burden to some, a gift to others and, to you my lovely Bertran, it is a curse. Your mother was cursed by one who had a deep knowledge of things old and powerful.” She leaned forward and Bertran softly on the forehead, making him calmer and yet keeping him focused on her words as she wove the truth he had so long wanted and needed to hear.

“You will never die. You will never be killed. You are one of perhaps twenty that walk the world forever that is not Fae or Darkness. You have never met the others because you actively avoid one another, as magnets do not touch one another. You have so much pain, so much sorrow from so long, it is a wave most cannot accept when they hear the truth, of which nearly none do. You will walk this world after it kills itself either by war or Siobhan returns to claim it as her own once more.” Victoria’s voice got much more serious as she spoke the next part, delicately as to not drive him from her.

“You have power, Bertran. You do not know how to use it and I humbly ask you to allow me to teach you to use it lest darker things find you and make you slave for them for all of time, feeding appetites you truly do not want to imagine. Stay with me here, in Montreal, and I will tell you everything you want to know, I will teach you all you desire to learn and, I will give you other things that one like yourself has abstained from.” Her voice took on a husky tone as she dropped the final line, his head snapping to hers in understanding. Immortals could not breed, they had no children, but they still desired the pleasures of the flesh as much as any other creature Siobhan created.

Bertran took a deep breath and nodded, he did not trust himself to use words to tell this Goddess that she had just given him more than he ever dared to have hoped for.

For I Will Pour Water On Him Who Is Thirsty, and Floods On The Dry Ground.

Idleness was not something Siobhan partook in.

The Dark Goddess did not go into the hills in the North and lure people into bogs as the Irish would have you believe, nor did She scream at the death of a loved one, or a thousand other damnable stupidities that were affixed to her from time to time. She was no Will O’ The Wisp and nary a Banshee had She seen this side of the 12th century, but let the fools think what hey would, the truth was always have covered in the Darkness Siobhan preferred anyway.

A thing that She could do, an idea the tales got right, was that She knew every time her name was uttered allowed if the moon was out. She knew most of them were stories to scare little children to go to bed, and She never reacted to it at all, but last night, the way that old one had whispered her name and said the prayer in the combination of Welsh and Manx, there as something to it that She needed to discover. She didn’t travel as much as She moved. Being a Goddess of the Darkness had its advantages and moving instantly to where the sun was not was probably a personal favorite of hers.

She waited until the sun had indeed set in full over the little shack the Gran lived in and in the next moment She was in the corner looking at the woman sitting in her chair by the fire, darning socks and humming a lullaby nearly as old as Siobhan herself. She did nothing, nor did She plan on doing anything. She needed to see this woman and observe the way she did things to tell her if She knew where the Pestilence was.

She refused to give it the name others did, and it was the Pestilence, or the Wrong, The Deceiver, The Lie. It had stolen from Siobhan, and there would be a reckoning, and the world would be remade as it should have been.

Her mind drifted until She saw the old woman stop her actions, put her darning needles into her lap, and whisper into the night.

“Siobhan, I know you are here, I know where that which you call It lays this very moment. I know you will believe me when I say I am from the UnderRiver, drifting through the memory of Tim and trapped here at the moment of Deception. I beg thee come before me so that I can give you what you desire and have done with this broken and frail thing I am and return to the water where I can be all once more.

Indeed Siobhan heard the truth in the language and the voice of the woman, the memory taking her back to the very beginning and seeing the waters. She stepped forward and very uncharacteristically took a knee in front of the woman. Her voice was soft as She spoke, but it was the velvet glove covering a fist of steel.

“I see and hear you River Daughter, I know of your people and their pain, and if you tell me what I need, I swear on the Darkness that Devours All Things that I will return you to the Eternity you came from.”

Not shocked or dismayed, no. In joyful tears, the woman reached out and laid her shaking hands on Siobhan’s face.

“My Dark Goddess, forgive me for taking so long to have the strength….” Siobhan kissed the woman’s hand, and in her next breath, the Gran continued, dooming the world.

“She lays at the Root, She cannot flee from there as the Light, and the Dark bind her to one place. It is why you have never seen her, nor her name bespake, She has been in a shall of nothing for all these millennia and now, now my Love and Goddess I beg you go and make Right was is so very Wrong.”

Siobhan did not feel the tears that She shed into the woman’s hand as She was given the knowledge She begged for since the beginning of time.

“River Daughter, I set you free and return you to stream and ocean, sea and rain. Bring life and death to the ruin that is to come.” The power in the words made the room warm a moment, and with a sigh of relief unlike any other, the Gran melted from the chair, water like a torrent from where She sat running out the door into the night, finally free of the hellish world of man.

Wiping her eyes and breathing a single breath Siobhan stood and was in her rooms once more rooted in the Darkness.

Planning, yes, planning was needed.