The victory at Red Branch had bolstered Ulster's spirits, but the air in Emain Macha was thick with tension. Kael stood on the wooden ramparts of the settlement, the Gáe Bolg leaning against his shoulder, as he watched the horizon with Conchobar and Aífe. The rolling hills of Ulster stretched out before them, their green marred by the distant smoke of Fomorian raids. Scouts had returned with grim news—Balor's forces were amassing near the River Boyne, their numbers swelling with each passing day.
"We can't wait for them to strike," Conchobar said, his voice steady but heavy. "If Balor's army crosses the Boyne, they'll overrun our defenses. We need to act—strike first, thin their numbers."
Kael nodded, his mind racing. His modern perspective gave him an edge—strategy games and history books had taught him the value of terrain and surprise. "We should hit them at the river," he said. "Funnel them into a choke point, use the water to slow them. I've seen it work in… uh, stories."
Aífe raised an eyebrow, her blue eyes glinting with curiosity. "Stories? You speak strangely, Kael Lughson. But your idea has merit. The Boyne's currents are swift—Fomorians are heavy, clumsy in water."
Conchobar stroked his beard, considering. "A sound plan. But we'll need more than tactics. The wounded from Red Branch strain our healers, and morale is fragile. We need hope as much as we need swords."
Morrígan, who had been silent, her cloak shimmering with crow patterns, spoke up. "Then we seek Brigid. She's a goddess of healing, poetry, and smithing—a beacon of light in dark times. If she joins us, her power will mend our warriors and lift their spirits."
Kael glanced at Morrígan, noting the respect in her tone. "Brigid, huh? Sounds like someone we need. Where do we find her?"
"At the Well of Segais," Morrígan said. "A sacred spring near the Boyne, where Brigid often tends to the land's spirit. But she's guarded by her own magic—and she won't aid those she deems unworthy."
Conchobar turned to Kael. "Take Aífe and a small party. Find Brigid, win her support, and scout the Fomorian camp. We'll prepare the main force to march at dawn."
Kael saluted, a modern gesture that earned a puzzled look from Conchobar. "On it. Let's go, Aífe."
Aífe smirked, adjusting her spear. "Try not to trip over your own spear, spear-bearer."
The journey to the Well of Segais was swift, the small party—Kael, Aífe, Morrígan, and a few Ulster scouts—moving through dense forests and misty valleys. The well appeared like a vision through the trees, a shimmering pool surrounded by hazel trees, their branches heavy with nuts said to grant wisdom. A soft glow emanated from the water, and the air thrummed with a vibrant energy, as if the land itself were singing. At the well's edge stood a woman of radiant beauty, her presence a blaze of warmth that seemed to chase away the forest's shadows.
Her fiery red hair flowed like a cascade of molten copper, catching the light in a halo of flame, and her green eyes burned with an intensity that made Kael's breath catch. She wore a flowing robe of white and blue, embroidered with flames and flowers that seemed to dance with every movement, and in her hands, she held a small harp, its strings humming with a melody that crackled with power. She turned as they approached, her gaze locking onto Kael with a fiery scrutiny that felt like standing too close to a forge.
"Brigid," Morrígan said, bowing slightly, her crows fluttering nervously at the goddess's presence. "We seek your aid for Ulster."
Brigid's voice was a melody of fire and steel, sharp yet warm, as she stepped forward, her red hair shimmering with every movement. "I know of you, spear-bearer. Lugh's power blazes in you, but so does uncertainty. Why should I, Brigid of the Eternal Flame, join your cause? What drives a stranger to fight for Ériu?"
Kael met her gaze, his heart pounding under her intense scrutiny. Her presence was overwhelming, a mix of nurturing warmth and fiery determination that made him feel both inspired and intimidated. "Because Ulster needs you," he said, his voice steady despite the heat in his cheeks. "The Fomorians are tearing this land apart—destroying sacred places, killing good people. I've seen the aftermath, and I'm not about to let it continue. We're fighting for Ériu, for its people, and we can't do it without your light. You're a goddess of healing, right? Then help us heal this war-torn land."
Brigid's eyes softened, a flicker of warmth breaking through her fiery demeanor, but her expression remained challenging. She raised a hand, and the ground trembled, the well's waters rippling as if stirred by an unseen force. "Words are easy, Kael Lughson, but deeds prove the heart. If you seek my aid, you must face my trial." Her voice deepened, carrying the weight of ancient magic. "Prove your worth—show me a warrior's strength and a healer's mercy."
The air around the well ignited, flames erupting in a circle that forced the party back. From the blaze rose a massive spectral wolf, its fur a swirling mass of fire, its eyes glowing like twin suns. The heat was searing, singeing Kael's leather tunic, and the wolf's howl sent a shockwave through the clearing, shaking the hazel trees and scattering their nuts across the ground. "Defeat my guardian," Brigid commanded, her red hair flaring as if caught in an invisible wind, "but do not kill it. Harm its spirit, and you'll prove yourself no better than the Fomorians you claim to fight."
Kael gripped the Gáe Bolg, its runes glowing with the Sidhe's blessing, the blue light a stark contrast to the fiery beast before him. "No killing. Got it." He glanced at Aífe, who nodded, her spear ready, her blue eyes reflecting the flames. "Let's dance, Aífe."
The flame-wolf lunged, its fiery jaws snapping with a roar that sent embers flying. Kael dodged, his enhanced speed a blur, the heat scorching his arm as he rolled to the side. He struck with the blunt end of the Gáe Bolg, aiming for the wolf's flank to subdue rather than harm, but the beast twisted mid-air, its claws raking the ground where he'd stood, leaving trails of molten earth. Aífe darted in, her spear flashing as she jabbed at the wolf's legs, her movements a whirlwind of precision. The wolf snapped at her, its fiery fangs inches from her shield, but she held firm, her braid whipping as she spun to strike again.
"Keep it moving!" Kael shouted, vaulting over a blast of flame the wolf spat at him. He landed behind the beast, using Scáthach's lessons to anticipate its next move—a swipe of its blazing tail that nearly caught him off-guard. He ducked, the heat singeing his hair, and struck the wolf's hind leg with a controlled blow, forcing it to stumble. Aífe seized the opening, her spear tapping the wolf's snout, drawing its attention as she danced back, her shield raised against a retaliatory swipe.
The wolf's fiery form pulsed, its growl shaking the clearing, and it unleashed a wave of flames that swept toward them like a tidal wave. Kael braced himself, the Sidhe's blessing on his spear flaring to shield him, but the heat was unbearable, sweat pouring down his face. Aífe grunted beside him, her shield glowing red-hot, but she didn't falter. "We need to pin it!" she called, her voice strained but fierce.
Kael nodded, his mind racing. He feinted left, drawing the wolf's attention, then sprinted right, leaping onto a fallen hazel tree to gain height. The wolf turned, its fiery eyes locked on him, and lunged—exactly as he'd hoped. Mid-air, Kael twisted, using the Gáe Bolg to pole-vault over the beast, landing on its back. He drove the spear's blunt end into the base of its neck, channeling the Sidhe's magic to calm rather than destroy. The wolf howled, its flames dimming, and Aífe struck its front legs, forcing it to the ground. Together, they pinned the beast, its fiery form flickering as it submitted, the spirit within unharmed.
The flames around the well died down, and Brigid stepped forward, her red hair glowing like a beacon, her green eyes shining with approval. "You fight with strength and mercy—a rare balance," she said, her voice now warm, like a hearth fire on a cold night. She placed a hand on the wolf's head, and it dissolved into sparks that floated back into the well, leaving the air cool and calm. "I will join you, Kael Lughson, and lend my light to Ulster. You've proven your heart is as fierce as your spear."
Morrígan's crows cawed in approval, settling on the hazel trees, and Aífe gave Kael a nod of respect, her earlier skepticism replaced by camaraderie. "Well done," she said, her tone softer, her blue eyes lingering on him a moment longer than necessary. "You're full of surprises."
"Stick around," Kael said, winking despite the sweat dripping down his face. "I'm just getting started."
With Brigid at their side, her presence a radiant warmth that seemed to heal the very air around them, the party scouted the Fomorian camp near the Boyne. From a ridge, Kael saw hundreds of the monsters—hulking brutes forging crude weapons, their single eyes glowing in the dusk. At their center loomed a massive figure, its eye a baleful furnace: Balor himself.
Kael's grip tightened on the Gáe Bolg. "That's him, isn't it? Balor."
Brigid's voice was grave, her red hair flickering like a flame in the wind. "Yes. His eye brings death to all it sees. We must be ready."
As they returned to Emain Macha, Brigid's presence already working to heal the wounded and lift spirits, her hands glowing with a soft light as she tended to the injured, Kael felt the weight of the coming battle. But with Aífe's fierce loyalty and Brigid's fiery strength beside him, he knew he wasn't alone. The war for Ériu was heating up—and Kael was ready to face it head-on.