I am the first to confront the one who would be Crom Cruach. Then others are drawn to the scene. Suspended in tense silence, all stand ready to defend the tuath while the moonlight is devoured by some invisible shadow.

The lifeless body of Ceirdwyn lies between us. A challenge waiting for an answer.

The insolent gaze of the Golden One glows eerily in the dark. The only other light is the vague sparkle of weapons unsheathed in a circle around us. His devotees would die for him, as the Rian's guards would die for Niafer. Meanwhile the earth drinks Ceirdwyn's spilled blood. Her death is tragic yet I feel that she is at peace, united with her family. What is justice? Only the high gods know.

I address Crom Cruach in the Old Tongue, testing him to see if he understands. He nods enigmatically but does not reply. A mystery unravels. Almost imperceptibly he shifts his weight from one leg to another, like a man whose feet are weary from a long journey.

Young Cormar perceives this tiny movement as a threat. He springs forward, sword poised for Crom Cruach's heart. Flidais gasps. The shimmer of metal ripples all around us.

"No!" I shout in my thunder-voice. Cormar's hand is stayed but a hair's breadth too late. The tip of his blade has touched, ever so lightly. Just enough to draw a single drop of blood from Crom Cruach's chest.

His druids hover, black with menace. I don't know if they see the crimson droplet but perhaps they sense it. The Golden One's face does not change. His eyes narrow slightly, drilling through me with cold defiance.

Chastened, Cormar sighs and steps back. There is a glow about him, a fading of the quickening hero-light that kindled when he lunged forward. I smile now, for I know what must be done.

Laying a hand on Cormar's shoulder, I bestow upon him a blessing. Or perhaps it is a curse. We will know the truth of it on Lughnasadh.

"You are Lugh," I say simply to Cormar. Then I nod to Crom Cruach, implying the opposite. "And you -"

There is a space of silence as the decision settles into place. The moon begins to emerge again from its shadow. As the silver light returns, the weapons are sheathed one by one.

"So be it!" announces Flidais.

One of the druids speaks for Crom Cruach. "On Lughnasadh," he barks, sealing the agreement. They melt into the mist.

I kneel beside Ceirdwyn's body. No need for anything more, she is gone. Gentle Fraoch bends down and scoops her up in his arms, heedless of the blood that still leaks from her wound.

"Deep peace," he sighs. We echo. Slowly we find the path and return to the keep.