Born of Mist and Legend (Highland Legends Book 3)

by Kat Bastion

  Then in a great burst, a birdlike creature soared up from the ash in the brilliant rich colors of the flames, darkest at the core and glitterin’ at the edges. Great wings of fire blazed. Twinklin’ black eyes sparked with a flash of blue-green.

  With an unearthly screech, the magnificent birdlike creature soared through the cavern with unbelievable speed, the darkest shootin’ star.

  The dragon swelled its great chest, flarin’ up to breathe that deadly fire once again.

  But right as Merlin opened his long reptilian snout, the shootin’ star arrowed straight into its gapin’ maw. And the flame the beast expelled ignited with the furious magick flames of the dark bird.

  An immense explosion detonated through the cavern, then blasted down through the earth.

  Brigid was thrown back by its percussive force.

  She tried to snap out a magick shield. But only a fizzle sparked within her loch, then died.

  So she instinctively curled into a ball.

  Dust rained down from above.

  The crystalline pillars shattered.

  Deafenin’ roars rumbled forth all around, the roof collapsin’ into piles of rubble around her. But its sound distorted through her ringin’ ears.

  Till all the sound faded away.

  Only her ragged breaths and thumpin’ heart remained after the ringin’ subsided.

  After a time, even the dust cleared.

  But then, she detected another sound.

  The rasp of another breath.

  Adrenaline shot through her and she bolted up, knockin’ shards of stone off of her body. Filled with new hope, she shoved piles of rocks away from a large pile. Till she made out the shape of somethin’ dull and black.

  Dusty black feathers.

  Skorpius? She collapsed beside the still form. “Skorpius!”

  Chapter 51

  One slow-firing synapse after another, Skorpius came to awareness.

  The sound of his name echoed, somewhere off in the distance.

  In Brigid’s voice.

  Concern laced her tone.

  Fear, even.

  I’m here, Brigid.

  Och! A hard tug jarred up his arm. You scared me nigh to death!

  I’m fairly certain I actually died. With concentration, he pushed himself up out of a pile of rubble.

  Brigid grabbed his hands, helping to free him.

  Then she drew him into her arms, and her soft lips covered his.

  Relief cascaded through him as he lost himself into the sensuality of her kiss.

  After their excitement calmed, he broke away. Then he glanced around, scanning across the darkness of the cavern. “What happened?” All he remembered was flying toward the dragon, and Merlin’s furious mental cry at him: I’ll have my vengeance!

  Brigid’s attention shifted down to stare at the stone floor. “Over the last hour, I’ve been gainin’ magick back, bit by bit. Till I could finally detect some amount of his foreign energy.”

  “He’s not dead?”

  “Nay. I doona think so. But he is entombed. Far down into the earth.”

  “He’s become part of the rock he’d mined.” Vengeance thwarted. Perhaps permanently.

  “Aye.”

  Weakened by the effort of their battle and the drain of their magick to end it, they leaned upon one another.

  But then, Brigid stepped back, blinked hard, and scanned his body from head to toe. She stared over his shoulder. Then her gaze snapped to his eyes. “Your eyes are still the same, glitterin’ blue-green with their sparks of flame and red.”

  “But I’m no longer the same, am I?”

  “Nay. You’ve lost your wings. Are you no longer an angel?”

  Skorpius glanced behind him, then arched his shoulders up and flared out a burst of magick.

  Dark enormous wings shimmered into existence, far larger than before. Yet instead of pure black, the filaments of every feather reflected a dusting of gold. When he spread them wide, they reflected every color.

  “Like ripplin’ firelight,” she murmured. “And your hair.”

  “What of it?” He shook it, catching a flash of color at the tips.

  “It remains inky black at the crown”—she sifted her fingers through it—“but your temples and under-strands shimmer with gold, silver, and many fiery reds, from bright copper to deep burgundy.

  “I’ve become more than an angel, I think.”

  “Aye.” Brigid gave a slow nod, then glanced at the rubble-strewn floor again. “When you burst up from the ground, from nothin’ but dust, you appeared as a great bird set aflame. Your wings blazed.”

  “I’d been evolving. But couldn’t make the full transformation without that flaming death.” Skorpius had instinctively sensed what was needed at that last moment. Every cell in his body had shut down to prepare for the resurrection. “A phoenix, from the ashes.”

  “You’re a phoenix. Born again.” She smiled then kissed him softly. “Like me.”

  “Like you.” Born again. Both given a fresh start, to live an entirely new chapter—together.

  Brigid slid her hand into his. “And a worthy male.” Her gaze lifted, and she stared into his eyes. “My male.”

  The calming warmth of gratitude coursed through him, and a heavy sigh parted his lips. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “You humble me.”

  She pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, then hovered her lips over his ear. “’Tis I who’ve been humbled. Just doona die. Never again. My heart canna bear it.”

  “Agreed.” His new ability to monitor the timeline agreed as well. The sacrifice had been made. “I am yours. For every moment, of whatever life we’ve been granted.”

  “All the moments. I want them all.”

  “Greedy goddess.”

  “Your goddess.”

  Skorpius stepped back, clasping her hands as he took a good look her.

  He had never seen any creature so beautiful, wanted anything more in his eternal existence.

  But he wasn’t the only one who’d transformed from the magickal explosions of their battle.

  Hair that had once shined a coppery red had burnished into a darker golden yellow. Creamy skin now radiated a rose-gold flush. And those silvery eyes swirled and sparked nonstop, mercurial, molten. But her spirit of kindness and generosity shone through the brightest.

  “My female.” Mate of his. Whatever they’d evolved into. Whatever the future held.

  Not that any of the details mattered.

  Skorpius no longer had a duty to protect her. He’d done so with his last dying breath by choice. And he’d make that same decision all over again.

  For her. For everyone in every realm.

  And the rift in time? Had healed.

  By their bold action, together willing to die for the good of all, they’d created an explosion of magick that had resonated through the ether, sealed the wound, strengthened its foundation.

  “The world’s goddess.” Brigid belonged to them all.

  Leaning against one another, arm in arm, they worked their way out from the rubble. Soon, fresh mineral scents ionized the air, leading them out.

  After a dozen steps through a large gallery that led toward daylight, they paused.

  The high vibration of powerful energy signatures spiked across their awareness. Additional souls had gathered, somewhere out there, beyond the outer threshold of the ancient cave.

  Then they both glanced down. For the first time since the battle, they noted their nakedness.

  With a crooked smile, Brigid manifested his black leathers and worn military boots, frayed laces and all.

  Skorpius gave her a knowing look, then manifested a regal outfit for her, a goddess of nature. Across her shoulders draped a downy white cloak, fashioned from every naturally shed snowy owl feather along countless timelines. Beneath, her original deerskin hunting outfit appeared. Daggers weighted into their sheaths. A curving bow and quiver of arrows settled along her back.

  Then, hand in han
d, they emerged from the cave.

  And they were definitely not alone.

  The twelve Templars, including Fingall, stood on twin longboats in the channel.

  Additional knights stood watch from various cliff-side positions.

  And fanning out from left to right, down the rocky shorelines and perched along the cliff tops, stood the druid masters who had challenged Brigid in the field, staffs held high, hoods drawn forward.

  But one by one, in a slow wave, each individual showed respect to their mistress. Every Templar planted his sword, took a knee and bowed his head, genuflecting in a great honoring succession. Each druid drew back his hood, bowed his head, and vibrated out a low tone.

  Then the druids’ toning grew in strength.

  The genuflecting Templars stood upright in unison, then joined the druids’ intonations.

  Great slabs of stone from that far rocky shoreline, once sliced from the sheer cliff face by erosion and time, floated high into the air.

  Then Brigid began to intone beside him.

  Her magick flared, growing in strength, and the stone slabs soared higher. With a sudden flash of immense power from her, the massive stones launched out like a starburst, scattering over the globe.

  Wherever the sarsens landed, and whatever else had transpired every step of the way along their journey, his new connection to the timeline hummed low in quiet approval.

  And Brigid’s garb had transformed yet again. Back into the shimmering golden gown that suited her best.

  The druids and Templars continued to watch her from afar.

  “’Twould seem that I’m called to serve them.”

  “At some point,” he agreed.

  “But not now.” She let out a heavy exhale. “Not anytime soon.”

  Because that chapter of her journey had yet to unfold.

  She glanced at him. “And the threat to time?”

  “Gone.” Thank Authority. “Ready to go home?”

  “Aye.” She held out a hand toward him. “Mayhap, we’ll rest a while.”

  “But…after. Right?” He hovered his hand over hers.

  Mischief sparked in those stunning silvery eyes. Then she clasped her hand to his and flashed them back to the private darkness of his lair. Their lair.

  “Aye.” Brigid shoved him against the wall. Then she obliterated their clothes and proceeded to kiss him senseless. “We’ll rest a good long while. After.”

  Epilogue

  Grab the rope! Skorpius mentally shouted as they arrowed through the midnight sky high above a foreign Earth-realm land.

  Race you! Brigid called back. A game they’d been playin’ over the past days.

  Both of them misted through the frosty air. So that she could fly as easily as he.

  They raced toward a massive silvery cloth structure that floated perilously high over open ocean. Its fabric glowed for a few seconds as she dove toward one of the dozen golden cords that dangled from atop it.

  She regained solid form and grabbed hold of the fat silk rope with both hands and entwined legs, swingin’ forward from her impact.

  An instant later, his incredible heat wrapped around her, arms banded tight around hers.

  “Grab your own rope.”

  “We’ll slide down together,” he murmured, lips pressed to the shell of her ear. “Loosen your hands.”

  Instead, Brigid let go and grabbed hold of his muscular arms.

  When he loosened his grip, they plunged toward a craft that hung below the inflated fabric.

  Skorpius heaved outward toward the end, then swung inward to land them upon a polished wooden deck.

  “’Tis a ship in the sky!” Twirlin’ about, she marveled at the details. Benches along the side. Rails spannin’ the edges. Colorful silk pillows were strewn about the floor, both fore and aft. Low tables offered food and drink.

  “A balloon dirigible. An airship.” Manifested just for you.

  From your imaginin’. Like he’d done with the sumptuous bed in their private sphere. Only their airship hung in the real world. Over a black ocean.

  Fresh air swirled about them.

  A loud blast of fire flared heat up into the balloon.

  “What land is that?” She stepped in front of him alongside the rail and slid her right hand over his while she stared out through the darkness. Countless towers glittered on the horizon. “When are we?”

  “That’s Hong Kong.” He gave a nod to their left as he wove their fingers together and wrapped his other arm around her. “We’re here for Chinese New Year. Twenty-first century.”

  They’d experienced many adventures in the days over the past fortnight. Some within Earth-realm, as they explored crowded cities and wide-open spaces all throughout time. Others spent in alternate realms, in wonderment over strange landscapes and unbelievable life forms.

  On Christmas morn, Skorpius had surprised her by deliverin’ Connell and Gunna to become a part of Clan Brodie. But he’d flashed right back out to spend the day trainin’ Robert. Apparently, exposure to the dragon’s magick and time spent in the angelic realm had instilled powers in the lad the Authority found promisin’. And Robert wished to become a warrior angel.

  When she’d asked, An angel without wings? Skorpius had replied, Robert’s transformation is yet to come.

  And durin’ those days, there had been several missions Skorpius had to depart on, alone.

  She’d even had a first duty of her own as goddess, a guidin’ appearance with the Templars. In a cave secret to humankind. An introduction of sorts. To the vast powers of the mysteries.

  But for the quiet moments to themselves? Like the one where they hovered high above a future Earth in one another’s arms? Worth all the seconds they had to spend apart.

  All of a sudden, flashes of color erupted into the sky near the towers.

  “Och! ’Tis lightnin’!” She pressed back into his warm strength and glanced upward, right as another bright explosion happened, a glitterin’ flower that blossomed over the water. “Nay. ’Tis not natural.”

  “It’s fireworks.”

  “’Tis magick.”

  “Hmmm… Let’s see if it is.” Skorpius drew her to the other side of the airship. He stared out into the darkness, over open ocean. Then he surged forth a burst of energy and a bright explosion lit the sky with the fiery colors of his dark energy.

  She clapped her hands. “Let’s do one togeth—”

  His lips pressed to hers. And energy flared along their hearts’ bond.

  Sensual and overwhelmin’, she melted into the incredible kiss.

  After a boom, then softer crackles, they glanced up to catch their newly created brilliance. A whole bouquet of magick blossoms exploded, some blackish blue, some flamin’ orange, some deepest scarlet—all fringed with sparks of her silvery gold.

  “The night”—she sighed, then stared up into his glitterin’ blue-green eyes—“’tis perfect.”

  “Almost.” He kissed her softly, then broke away to stare down at her. “Close your eyes.”

  She did as he asked, tryin’ not to smile. You’ve spoiled me with surprises this last fortnight.

  Keep them closed. He shifted her hands: positioned her left upon his shoulder, slid his left beneath her right.

  Her lips twitched. Skorpius, are we about to dance?

  Another loud burst sounded, the airship’s fire flarin’ heat up into the balloon. Then total silence followed as they floated through the night-chilled sky.

  No peeking.

  In the next instant, she dinna have to.

  Lively music exploded into her ears. Laughter echoed and feet stomped. Warmth brushed across her skin. And the scents of her clan’s great hall washed over her: lavender rushes, cracklin’ logs, cooked foods, pine boughs from Christmas.

  Skorpius swung her about. “Annnd open!”

  With glances left and right, she spotted faces at the edge of the floor before all continued on with their dancin’. Iain and a verra pregnant Isobel, slow dancin
’ in the corner. Robert and Susanna twirlin’ much faster. And most of their warriors stompin’ about with lasses held tight in their arms.

  But Brigid’s lovin’ gaze landed back on her magnificent phoenix.

  His wings blazed above: inky black to midnight blue to burnished flame to darkest scarlet.

  Her golden gown shimmered and sparked, vibrant with her energy.

  After all they’d been through, they were finally able to become their true selves. Who they’d always been destined to be. Surrounded by their clan. A family they together belonged to.

  “Another Christmas celebration?”

  “New Year’s Eve.” He glanced at Isobel. “I convinced someone to throw a party tonight.”

  For us?

  For you. And for them all. “Do you like my surprises?”

  “Aye.” She laughed as he spun her. “Verra much.”

  “Good.” Skorpius slowed their turn, then stopped altogether. Great intensity sparked in his blue-green eyes as he stared down at her. “Get used to being spoiled. Because a fortnight is the blink of an eye.”

  Filled nigh to burstin’ with unbelievable happiness, Brigid sighed, leaned up on tiptoe, and kissed him softly. Such romance.

  Power sizzled along their hearts’ bond, bristlin’ with a flash of irritation, then warmed with lighthearted amusement. Tell no one. But this fractured heart and I are loving you into eternity.

  Escape to where it all began in the

  the novels of the Highland Legends series…

  Forged in Dreams and Magick

  Bound by Wish and Mistletoe

  Born of Mist and Legend

  Found in Flame and Moonlight

  Thank You!

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