The walk toward the city was longer than it looked.

  Distance seemed to behave strangely in Tir Na Nog. What seemed close unfolded into winding slopes and gentle descents, the valley steadily revealing new details each time I thought that I’d understood its shape.

  Ruth trotted ahead, then back, unable to decide whether to explore or make sure we were still following.

  I envied his pure curiosity.

  The closer we drew, the more signs of life appeared. Figures moved along terraces carved into the hillsides. Bridges arched across narrow cuts in the earth. No one hurried, yet everything felt purposeful.

  I became aware of how loudly my boots struck the ground.

  “They know I’m here, don’t they?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Eithna said.

  I wasn’t sure if that was meant to sound comforting or not.

  The city gate did not dominate the landscape the way I expected.

  There were no towering walls. No iron bars.

  Instead, two immense trees leaned in toward one another, their branches woven high overhead to form a living arch. Light filtered down through leaves that shimmered like polished glass.

  A figure stepped out from the shadow of the trunk as we approached.

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  He wore armour that seemed grown from wood and metal together, shaped to him rather than strapped on. His expression was open, curious, and entirely focused on me.

  “Eithna,” he said, tilting his head.

  “Olin,” she replied.

  So, this was Olin.

  His gaze returned to me.

  “It has been some time,” he said warmly, “since we welcomed one such as you here.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

  I had absolutely no idea what the correct response to that was.

  “This is Dwight,” Eithna said.

  Olin studied me for a moment longer, not unkindly.

  “You are what we call Fallen,” he said.

  The word landed with more weight than its volume.

  “Fallen,” I repeated.

  “Of two worlds,” he explained. “Not fully claimed by either.”

  Well.

  That was comforting in a completely unexpected way.

  “I only found out yesterday,” I said.

  A faint smile touched his face.

  “That explains much.”

  Eithna shifted beside me, a subtle reminder that we were expected elsewhere.

  “We should continue,” she said.

  “Of course,” Olin replied, stepping aside. “You will be awaited.”

  Awaited.

  Another word that did nothing for my nerves.

  As we passed beneath the living arch, I felt it, the change.

  Not in the air.

  In the attention.

  Conversations faltered. Faces turned. Some curious, some cautious, some openly astonished.

  They weren’t looking at Eithna.

  They were looking at me.

  I kept walking.

  It seemed like the safest option.