Chapter 167: Forgiveness

Taliesin sent the message off with a heavy heart. While his judgment was sound and he knew he wasn’t wrong, the likelihood that it would all go to plan was slim. Curses laid by the dying or the dead were harder to get rid of than living curses and he was not an expert in such dark magics. He had no affinity for creating or breaking them. His late brother and twin, Merlin, had no such limitations, but he had gone into Eternal Repose after his wife, Viviane, had been killed in the war against Morrigan.
Merlin could not help them.
Taliesin couldn’t blame him. The war had taken so much from all of them and raising the barrier had taxed them both greatly. There was little hope that he would ever wake up, and Taliesin had accepted that centuries ago, focusing on raising Merlin’s daughter as if she were his.
“Nimue?” Taliesin called as he returned to the meeting hall. She was seated on the old stone bench, looking up through the canopy of the ancient oak trees that were always in bloom.
His precious niece looked up at him with his brother’s eyes and her mother’s smile. There was a nervous light in her eyes that set his stomach to turn nervously. That look could only mean trouble. Eden had a similar look on his face when he’d left, and Nimue had been acting strangely ever since she’d come back from the werewolf’s border camp.
Had something happened? Had she’d encountered the person in her death-vision? She had never told him about her death-vision, preferring to keep it to herself after hearing about Eden’s. Had he been wrong all this time in not asking about it?
“Why are you so nervous, little one?”
She stood and met his gaze, “I… I have doubts… Troubles, but they aren’t important right now. You called for me?”
He sighed. Moon, Sun, and Earth save him from these troublesome descendants with their pride and their need to worry him.
“I swear, you and Eden will be the death of me.” Taliesin huffed, “Will you please spare my heart the stress and just tell me what is wrong?”
She laughed, “Doubtful. You will outlive the earth and the sky, old man.”
Taliesin sighed and walked with her, “I am going to ask a favor of you, but I want you to consider it carefully."
She narrowed her eyes, "What is it?"
"King Adolph is suffering from the curse of the blood aura.”
Her eyes widened.
“But, it is not one simply born of war. It is a true curse. They are unsure of who laid the curse and when as of our last message, but breaking it is the only option.”
“How bad is it?” She asked, her eyes growing glossy and her expression turning tense. “How long does he have?”
“I cannot say… I want to send you with the prince’s escort given your… talent with curses.”
She laughed, “What a nice way to say it.”
Nimue had been born with a profound gift: commune with the afterlife. Merlin had some talent with the spirits of the dead, but Nimue’s bordered on priesthood in her ability to evoke judgment from the abyss. As with all things in nature, that connection with death was balanced with her extraordinary healing abilities.
Taliesin chuckled, “It is a talent, dear one. Never think otherwise.”
She nodded, “I will go.”
“Nimue—”
“I have my reasons for going,” she said, looking down. “I will return to their border camp and meet Basil’s escort there.”
Taliesin eyed her, curious about the feeling he was getting from her. She turned and bade him goodbye before he could ask, leaving him staring after her.
Was it possible?
He wouldn’t put it past Nimue to be chosen in the way that Crystal had been to be the path to connect the throne of the sun with the throne of the full moon, but who? Did she know? Was there hope that it would work out? Perhaps she’d been given another vision.
It certainly seemed that she had an inkling of something ahead.
He looked out the window and sighed, “Moon, Sun, and Earth help me deal with these troublesome youngsters and their fates.”
He almost heard his brother laughing in the wind at his prayer, and it gave him no comfort.

Nimue changed from her long flowing robes into her traveling breeches, tunic, and hooded vest. She placed her staff on her back, a sword on her hip, a dagger in her boot, and packed her bag as quickly as she managed.
Within the hour, her hood was drawn, she packed, and she had mounted her horse to head back to the border camp to see Basil.
She scoffed, pushing that thought away. She was going to meet Basil and his escort before heading to the capital city. She was going as an ambassador to aid them. That was all.
She turned her horse towards the barrier and nudged him into a run. She didn’t have time to think about why it made no sense to get her hopes up.
She wondered if Crystal had decided to give up before her heart had been broken how different the Wiccan Alliance would be. If she had fought for the man she thought herself destined for, would Morrigan’s rise have been possible? Perhaps her parents would still be here and not a faint memory.
Maybe Eden would have been raised as a full-Wiccan instead of always feeling like an outsider.
It didn’t matter in the long run. She was not Crystal. She had no intention of languishing for want of anyone, not even her fated match.
Where werewolves had mates, Wiccans had fated pairs or matches. It was the same principle as a mate but based on a Wiccan’s magical instincts. The magical connection that came with meeting your fated match wasn’t something that could be faked and everyone was taught from a young age to trust their magical instincts above all things.
She trusted her instincts, but the young man who set her magic bubbling and sparking beneath her skin was impossible. He was handsome enough, she supposed. She had never considered herself interested in blondes, and he was so much younger than her!
He was a baby in Wiccan years. Sure, he was a werewolf and within their separate species they were of comparable age, but still!
The spirits could truly be cruel.
When she arrived at the camp, she was greeted by the guards who seemed to be in the middle of changing their shifts.
“Halt!” one of them cried out as she slowed to a stop. “Who are you and what is your purpose?”
“I am here by request of Taliesin to accompany the prince’s escort to the capital city.”
The guards gasped and stood aside, “Of course! Our apologies, Miss Sorceress.”
She chuckled and dismounted, walking her horse into camp. Werewolves, at large, seemed so spooked by her. She wondered if she simply smelled different to them.
She walked towards the edge of camp to set up for the night when she felt his presence growing closer.
She turned and found Basil approaching her, seemingly upset as he walked towards her. She braced herself for the conversation as her magic was sparkling beneath her skin.
Sun, help her.
“Prince Basil, good evening.”
Basil stopped nearby. His eyes glowing in the night as his nostrils flared and he took a deep breath.
“Why… are you here?”
She turned from him and stroked her horse’s mane, “My uncle sent me to help.”
“Help?”
She looked at him, “Yes… are you not aware?”
Basil turned from her, “I’ve been summoned by my father to return to the capital city, but I don’t know why…”
His eyes hardened as he looked at her, “Whatever it is… It has to be dire to have called you to come with me—I mean, *us*.”
A little flutter of happiness went through her, but she didn’t correct him. She had come because it had concerned his father. It was stupid and bound to lead her somewhere she didn’t need to be, but she couldn’t help herself.
Her damned magical instincts were clear that he was it, even if she didn’t want to like it.
“I… I don’t know what will happen when we get there,” Basil said. “But… thank you for coming to help us.”
He turned as a flush began to spread over his cheeks, “We’re… heading out early. You should get some rest Lady Nimue.”
“Nimue,” she corrected, swallowing her nerves. “No need to be so formal, Your Highness.”
“Basil,” he said softly. “… call me Basil, Nimue.”
She curled her toes in her boots and smothered the sound that wanted to escape her as her stomach flipped at the sound of her name on his lips.
“Basil then.”
He took in a sharp breath, took a step towards her then turned stiffly.
“G-Good night, Nimue.”
“Good night,” she said softly as he walked away.