Secrets Revealed

The worn floorboards of Elder Maeve’s cottage creaked a familiar lullaby beneath Leo’s feet, a sound that usually soothed him. Today, however, it felt like a drumbeat against his ribs, each thud amplifying his anxiety. He’d been summoned, not with the usual casual invitation to share a cup of nettle tea, but with a gravity that settled in the air like dust motes in a sunbeam. Elder Maeve sat by the hearth, her ancient hands, gnarled as oak roots, resting on the smooth, dark wood of her staff. Her eyes, usually twinkling with a gentle amusement, were sharp, piercing, and fixed on him.

“Sit, Leo,” she said, her voice low, carrying the weight of seasons past. It wasn’t a request.

He obeyed, sinking onto the stool opposite her. The scent of dried herbs and woodsmoke, once comforting, now seemed to choke him. He could feel the faint, residual shimmer of his other form beneath his skin, a secret he fought to contain, a constant hum of power that threatened to breach his carefully constructed dam.