The ship slid along Selavetian coast, through mist that clung to the skin.
The sea… This cold, lead sea had taken her mother. And now it was bringing him to the daughter the world called blasphemy.
It was madness, what he was doing. It couldn't end well. Not in this world and not in this life.
It was the only thing right.
Eirran stood at the prow, hands tight on the rail as the wind tugged at his wings.
"My lord?" Keth approached with two cups of steaming tea. "An hour more to the hidden cove. Do you see those rocks? Ulm lies beyond."
Eirran turned, reluctant, to receive a cup. "Keth… how do human children behave?"
Keth graced him with a warm, comforting smile. "Mischievous. Loud. And they adore toys."
Eirran's gaze drifted to the box that held a silver rattle. "What if she fears me?" His gaze searched the sea. "Perhaps we should send servants first."
Keth shook his head. "No, my lord. If you wish to be a father, you must go first."
Father.
The word charged the air like an aftermath of lightning.
---
The ship moored at a sheltered dock at a hidden cove. Eirran landed on the sand; the chill stabbed his feet.
"Send two men into the village," he ordered. "Discreetly. Let them ask of her whereabouts. Where does she live? What is her name?"
Keth nodded and turned to give instructions. The servants vanished among the first houses. Eirran's heart pounded like a drum. The thought wouldn't leave him alone.
What if she rejects me? What if she's afraid?
And deep down he knew, that there was no if. Keth had been kind but he was right. Hope was one thing, reality another.
The servants returned an hour later.
"The widow Foyd died when the girl was two," said the elder of the two. "She now lives with the widow's sister Mirna Hamad, her husband Jereh, and their eleven-year-old son, Evan."
Eirran clenched his fists. "Her name?"
"They call her Lily, my lord. But I was told her full name… Is Eilleah."
His knees weakened. Eilleah. In Old Ilarian: She Who Brings Light. The name he had once, half in jest, told Noemi he would give their daughter.
"Where is she?"
"A fisherman's hut at the end of the village. Red roof, on the shore."
Keth placed a hand on his shoulder. "Slowly. One step at the time."
Eirran turned his face toward Ulm. Somewhere in there, beyond the crooked alleys and poor cottages, his daughter breathed.
He had flown into battles. Led legions into war.
But nothing had ever terrified him like this:
Meeting the daughter he had already buried - alive.