Reverend, Reverend, Please Come Quick

Annwyn’s expression remained a mask of calm, though inwardly she relished the fire in Xairo’s gaze. The boy had spirit, and she could work with that. His disbelief, his defiance, all were expected. She allowed him to circle her, her piercing blue eyes tracking his movements—half expecting him to take a nip at her. Her chains jingled yet again as she shifted her weight, her posture relaxed yet commanding. Composed. She rather liked the sound of her earrings so close to her ears, the metallic clinking as her skull went to and fro. When he halted, demanding proof, she allowed the silence to stretch for a heartbeat longer, savoring his exasperation.

Then, with a slow step forward, she leaned in, her voice like a rolling storm. "You think this is about manipulation, boy?"she began, her tone dripping with disdain. "Do you think your mother would send me to you to play games? No. She speaks to me because I am the only one who can help you claim what is yours. That is my personal interest, that you come into your birthright by my hand."

Her gaze softened just enough to be disarming, though the sharpness remained. "You seek proof." she murmured, a laugh entering her voice. "Fine. Let me speak of the dreams you won’t admit to anyone. Of your mother Aurelia." Annwyn’s eyes bored into his, her voice dropping to a whisper now. She smiled, a cold and calculated smile. "She comes to you cloaked in light, doesn’t she? Her voice is like a… melody you can never quite hold onto. She doesn’t speak so much in words, but in feelings—urgency, longing, affection." Her head tilted slightly, her gaze unwavering even as her teeth gleamed past her lips. "But there’s some dreams that stand out, aren't there? The ones that linger more than the rest. The one where she stands before you, where she tells you of the Gods and Goddesses. Of Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnasadh—of the coming Samhain. The three mothers. Tell me I’m wrong, Xairo. Tell me I’m lying."

She straightened, her voice sharp, an attempt to cut through any doubt he might have. "Your mother has given you these dreams because she knows the power that lies dormant within you. But power is useless without purpose or guidance. That is what I offer. Not vague promises, but the means to fulfill your mother’s vision… The choice is still yours, but make it wisely, for this is what little remains of your birthright." Annwyn took a step back, her lean form relaxed as could be. Her expression was serene once more, but her gaze remained intense as it always was. Staring right through whatever she beheld. "Now," she said, her voice quieter but no less confident, "what will it be, Xairo?" Yes, would he run and hide from his fate; or would he embrace it?



"Annwyn Myfïol"