Chapter 8:The Silver Vein

The Thames' waters shimmered under a blood-red moon as Ethan stumbled onto the shore, his chest heaving. The pendant Rowan gave him burned against his skin—a triskele etched with runes that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He collapsed onto the damp grass, gasping as the kelpie's essence surged through his veins, now visible as silver threads beneath his skin.

"You cannot contain me forever," a voice hissed in his mind—Níðhöggr's voice, weaker but still present. Ethan clenched his fists, the ring on his finger flaring. The river's power answered, but it felt… tainted. Images flashed through his mind: a shipwreck, a drowned city, a crown of thorns submerged in mud.

Footsteps crunched behind him. Ethan spun, summoning a wave of water. It froze mid-air as Rowan stepped into view, her silver hair tangled with seaweed. "Save your strength," she said, tossing him a flask. "Drink. It'll mask the geis' scent."

Ethan hesitated. The flask reeked of iron and salt—a witch's brew. "Why help me?"

Rowan turned away, staring at the river. "Because Lir's waking. His children are rising."

Ethan followed her gaze. The water rippled, forming a trio of figures: Fionnuala, Aodh, and Fiachra—the children of Lir, trapped as swans for 900 years. Their feathers were blackened, their eyes glowing crimson. "They're no longer bound by the curse," Rowan said. "Lir's using them to tear down the barriers between realms."

The swans screeched, diving into the water. The Thames erupted, forming a whirlpool. A massive shape emerged—Manannán mac Lir, Lir's brother, riding a chariot pulled by white horses. His cloak billowed like storm clouds, and his trident crackled with lightning.

"Release my brother," he boomed, his voice shaking the earth. "Or I'll drown this world in salt."

Ethan raised his hand, the ring humming. The river surged, but Manannán's trident shattered the wave. "Your power is a shadow of mine, kelpie thrall."

Rowan stepped forward, her dagger drawn. "He's not alone."

Before she could attack, a banshee's wail split the air. The dullahan materialized, its antlers replaced by a crown of bones. It raised its scythe, and the ground trembled. Ethan felt a tug at his chest—the pendant glowed, repelling the creature.

Rowan cursed. "They're drawn to the bridle's residue on you. We need to reach the Well of Segais—it's the only place Lir's children can be bound."

Ethan nodded, though his vision blurred. Níðhöggr's corruption spread like frost through his veins. He staggered, but Rowan caught him. "Stay with me," she snapped. "The well's in the Otherworld's heart. You'll need to channel the river's power… and mine."

They ran, the dullahan and swans in pursuit. The river's current obeyed Ethan's command, forming a shield of ice. Manannán's trident shattered it, but Rowan threw a vial of acid, melting the chariot's wheels.

"You cannot win," Manannán roared, his horses dissolving into mist. "The sea will reclaim what's hers."

Ethan ignored him, focusing on the Well of Segais—a black pool surrounded by standing stones. Rowan pressed her dagger into the ground, blood pooling at her feet. "The well's a gateway to Tir na nÓg," she said. "But it requires a sacrifice."

Before Ethan could protest, she sliced her palm, letting her blood drip into the pool. Light erupted, revealing a staircase spiraling into the earth. "Hurry," she said, shoving him forward.

Inside, the air reeked of rot and brine. The walls shimmered with bioluminescent fungi, casting an eerie green glow. Ethan's veins throbbed, the pendant's runes glowing in response. He felt Níðhöggr's presence stronger here, as if the serpent's essence were woven into the stone.

They reached a chamber at the heart of the well. A pedestal stood in the center, holding a goblet filled with black water. Above it floated the children of Lir, their forms flickering between swans and spectral warriors.

"Join us," Fionnuala hissed, her voice like broken glass. "Become one with the sea."

Ethan raised his hand, the ring flaring. The river's power surged, but Níðhöggr's corruption twisted it, turning the water into a storm of ice shards. Rowan cursed, slamming her dagger into the pedestal. "You're losing control!"

Ethan grit his teeth, focusing on Grampa's lessons. The river's voice softened, guiding him. He pressed the pendant into the goblet, channeling his energy into it. The water turned silver, rising to form a cage around the children.

Fionnuala screeched, dissolving into mist. The other children followed, their screams echoing into the void. Manannán's roar faded, and the chamber fell silent.

Rowan collapsed against the wall. "You did it," she said, though her tone held no triumph.

Ethan stared at the goblet. His reflection rippled, revealing a serpent's eyes. "Níðhöggr's still here," he whispered.

Rowan nodded. "The corruption's part of you now. It'll grow stronger… unless you embrace the river's true power."

She stood, brushing dirt from her coat. "There's a ritual in the Book of Binds—a way to merge your soul with the Thames. You'll become a river god… but you'll lose your humanity."

Ethan hesitated. He thought of the boy in the river, the lives he'd saved, Rowan's reluctant alliance. "What about you?"

Rowan turned away. "I have my own path. Lir's children may be bound, but his influence remains. The next time he wakes…"

Before she could finish, the chamber trembled. A fissure split the floor, revealing a glimpse of Níðhöggr's scales. Ethan staggered back, the pendant glowing. The serpent's voice echoed in his mind: *"Choose, mortal. Become my prison… or my vessel."*

Rowan grabbed his arm. "We need to leave—now."

They fled, the chamber collapsing behind them. They emerged back on the shore, the Thames calm once more. Rowan vanished into the mist, leaving Ethan alone with the pendant's hum. He looked down at his hands—veins still silver, skin cold to the touch.

The river whispered a final warning, but Ethan smiled. He'd made his choice.

To be continued…