Chapter 22:The Serpent’s Bargain

The Cahokia Mounds loomed before them, their grassy slopes shimmering under a bruised sky. Rowan's boots sank into the waterlogged earth—Cahokia's north plaza, once thought to be a ceremonial ground, now revealed itself as a primordial swamp. She glanced at Lachlan, who clutched a tattered scroll. "The Well lies beneath Monk's Mound," he said, voice trembling. "But the water… it's alive."

Ethan stepped forward, his scales flickering. The Mississippi's current hummed in his veins—since Ireland, he'd learned to commune with aquatic spirits. "The river remembers," he murmured. "It fears the stag's awakening."

Grampa grunted, shotgun at the ready. "Let's hope the spear's worth the trouble."

Moira said nothing, her gaze fixed on the mound. Rowan followed her mother's stare—a shadow moved atop the ancient structure, antlers silhouetted against the storm clouds. MacLeod.

They descended into the mound's heart through a hidden passage, bioluminescent fungi casting an eerie glow. The air grew thick with the scent of iron and rot. At the chamber's center, a stone altar pulsed with green energy—on it lay the Spear of Lug, its blade etched with Awen symbols.

Rowan reached for it, but Moira grabbed her wrist. "The letter was right," she hissed. "The spear is a trap."

Before Rowan could respond, the ground shook. MacLeod emerged from the shadows, his body twisted into a hybrid of antlers and scales. "Too late," he growled. "The stag demands blood."

Ethan lunged, but MacLeod backhanded him—a spray of black ichor erupted from the Druid's wounds, healing instantly. "Your dragon's power is nothing compared to the stag's immortality!"

Rowan raised the Blood Vessel of Lir. Its runes dimmed, drained by previous battles. "We need the spear," she said.

Moira shook her head. "The spear is bound to Lug's oath—it requires a sacrifice. A life for a life."

Rowan froze. "Whose life?"

MacLeod laughed. "Yours, bridge. The world tree cannot survive without you."

The chamber trembled again. From the altar's depths, a voice echoed—feminine, ancient, and hungry. *"The serpent sleeps, but the stag stirs. Choose, daughter of Lir."*

Ethan staggered to his feet. "It's the Mississippi's guardian," he said. "She's trapped here."

The voice slithered into Rowan's mind: *"Free me, and I'll grant you victory."*

Rowan hesitated. The world tree's energy surged through her—she could feel its roots beneath the mound, corroded by MacLeod's corruption. "What do you want?"

*"A host. A body."*

MacLeod roared, charging. Moira stepped between them, her hands glowing green. *"By the power of the Oak and the Thorn—"*

MacLeod swiped her aside. *"Your magic is obsolete!"*

Rowan grabbed the spear. Lightning crackled along its shaft, searing her palm. "Take it," she gasped. "Take my life."

The spear hummed. A vision flooded her mind: Lir's sacrifice, the world tree's birth, the stag and serpent's eternal war. "Balance demands a bridge, not a god," the voice said.

Ethan tackled MacLeod, their claws tearing at each other. Grampa fired, but MacLeod regenerated, antlers glowing. *"Die, old man!"*

Moira surged upward, vines erupting from the earth to bind MacLeod. *"Rowan—now!"*

Rowan plunged the spear into the altar. Light erupted, merging with the world tree's energy. The Mississippi guardian's spirit emerged—a colossal water serpent, its scales shimmering with starlight. *"Thank you, bridge."*

MacLeod screamed as the serpent coiled around him, draining his corruption. *"No! The stag—"*

The serpent swallowed him whole. *"The stag sleeps. The serpent rules."*

Rowan collapsed, the spear clattering to the ground. Ethan caught her, his scales fading. "You did it."

Rowan shook her head. "I freed a god… and condemned myself."

The serpent's voice echoed: *"The bridge must die to save the world."*

Moira helped Rowan stand. "There's another way. The spear—"

"Is mine now," the serpent hissed. It wrapped itself around the spear, dissolving into mist.

Lachlan paled. "The spear… it's gone."

Rowan staggered outside. The Mississippi surged, its waters glowing with the serpent's power. The world tree's roots retracted, their corruption cleansed—but Rowan's body felt hollow. "I'm losing the connection," she said.

Moira touched her forehead. "The Awen mark… it's fading."

Ethan's hand tightened on hers. "You're human again."

Rowan laughed bitterly. "And the serpent is free. We traded one god for another."

Grampa spat. "At least MacLeod's dead."

But Rowan wasn't so sure. She glanced at the mound—MacLeod's bloodstain had vanished. "He's not gone," she said. "The serpent… she kept him."