The words of her child tugged at her heart desperately. She truly had failed her children, look at how they suffered.

Oh, Saorlaith… Kirain murmured softly. That isn’t your place, my love. That isn’t yours to bear. Her voice trembled despite her efforts. Your brother and I are going to be okay. The spirits watch over us. Please don’t fret your sweet little mind about it.

Reaching out, she pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, holding her close as if she could shield her from every hurt the world had to offer.

I’m so sorry we haven’t had much time together, she whispered. You have not been forgotten. You are not loved any less. Your father and I adore you, please don’t ever forget or doubt that.

Her tone was tender, overflowing with affection. After a moment, she drew back just enough to look at her daughter, worry etched into her silver eyes.

What can I do to soothe your mind, my love? The question was genuine, born from helplessness more than certainty.

Kirain felt utterly lost. She didn’t know how to do right by any of her children. Faolán lay so low, suffering, healing. Eilidh was anxious, developing strange habits that had not escaped her parents’ notice. And now Saorlaith was offering herself as some kind of sacrifice. A bargain. For the sake of her family.

It was too much.

Shame burned bright and painful in her chest. They deserved better than this.