but instead dropped his head in respect. Five of the fairies separated from their brethren and floated upon the cool, wet air, their inner light brightening the shadowed shroud of the glen. Unlike Snedeker, who was made from bits of green leaves and peeled bark, the Lightbrands were smooth and naked, human-shaped figures glowing like celestial bodies freed from the stars. With wings fluttering like a blurred rainbow, they flew toward Bran unhindered.
“Where did they come from?” Bran hissed.
“Everywhere. From the water and light.”
In moments, the fairies floated before his eyes in a line. Up close, they took on more human characteristics—high cheekbones, pointed ears, sharp chins and even toes. Three females and two males stared at Bran with blue eyes like oceans, white hair floating about their heads like silky halos. Wrinkled like a prune, the lead fairy came first, his long beard and wizened expression earnest.
Bran barely breathed. Snedeker sat prostrate on his shoulder, eyes averted in reverence.
The fairies began speaking then.
“Courageous young knight.”
“Overcame fear for what was right.”
“Protected the innocent.”
“Despite possible harm to self.”
“The Lady speaks.”
The last words became a litany that slowly blended into a sustained hum as the fairies sped around Bran, flying in an unending circle. Snedeker twitched on his shoulder, curled up in a ball. The fairies flew faster and faster, a smudge of white arcing light like a halo, a dizzying pace Bran couldn’t keep up with.
The hum fell away altogether, leaving a beautiful warm voice.
—Do you accept knighthood, Bran Ardall, line of Perceval?—
The voice was unlike those of the fairies, soft and lilting but ancient and very far away, as if the speaker were muffled. It bore the wearied tenor of eons and wisdom, unconditional love given but burdened by hardship and pain. It struck directly at his heart, consoling his guilt with forgiveness. The world blurred as tears sprang to his eyes. The question waited, an answer needed. The Lady wanted him to become the Heliwr. He wavered for only a moment before the memory of Connal dying and being cast aside like bloodied fodder mingled with the fear that he would never amount to anything beyond a street rat.
The warnings of Richard fell away. Bran chose his answer with conviction.
“I will,” he said, and meant it with all his heart.
Just then, shadows detached from the gloom, slinking toward him, a menagerie of rabbits, ferrets, boars, and other animals, their eyes burning feral desire. The animal slaves of Cernunnos. Soon they had the glen surrounded.
Panic dampened the joy he felt being in the Lady’s presence.
Azure light blossomed behind Bran.
“Looks like you were wrong about needing help,” Richard said, moving to protect Bran’s back, Arondight a fiery swath. “You do have a knack for trouble, don’t you?”
Bran peered wildly around. Cernunnos did not appear. The beasts instead simply watched. It seemed the Erlking wanted to spy on what transpired but nothing more.
“I promise to keep them from you, whatever the cost,” the knight said. “Do what you must.”
Bran nodded and squeezed the Paladr tightly.
—Richard McAllister, my faithful knight, will you do what must be done to keep the office of Heliwr safe and see its duty carried out to fulfillment?—
Bran could feel Richard tensing behind him.
“I will, my Lady,” Richard said finally.
—My paladins, it is done—
Heat blossomed in Bran’s hand and then chest, dizzying and in a rush. When his head cleared, the Lightbrands whirling about him had slowed, become distinct creatures again. Once stopped, each bowed in midair, clearly exhausted, before flying back toward the waterfall and their waiting companions.
“Wait, I want answers!” Bran shouted, watching the Lightbrands disappear one by one like snuffed stars. “I don’t know what to do! What do I do with this seed? What happened to my father? Did he go through this? What do you mean by Perceval?”
His questions echoed in the night.
“Wait!” he roared.
“They are gone,” Richard said.
Bran wanted to chase after the fairies but suddenly found he could not move; his feet were anchored to the grass beneath him. Richard also began to struggle, similarly planted. Arondight vanished. Anger changed to dismay and then horror as Bran watched roots snake out of the ground and grip his boots; the tendrils did the same thing to Richard. They expanded until the two men were linked, the roots sprouting in various directions writhing up their legs as well as pushing deeper into the world every second that passed.
Bran tried to scream, but found his throat paralyzed.
Fighting his revulsion and losing, he became aware the