The Thames' surface rippled with silver veins as Ethan emerged, his body a shadow of water and bone. The river's current coiled around him like a living thing, whispering secrets in a language older than time. Above, London's skyline loomed, its towers Twisted into antlers beneath the crimson moon—a reflection of Cernunnos' influence.
Rowan crouched on the riverbank, her silver hair tangled with seaweed, the Book of Binds clutched in her hand. She'd tracked Ethan for days, ever since the horned god's ritual dissolved the mist barrier. "You're not him," she said, voice trembling. "The boy I knew… he wouldn't let the river drown children."
Ethan turned, his eyes pools of black ice. "Children die because the river demands balance," he intoned, his voice echoing with a dozen voices. "Lir's corruption still festers in the deep. The geis must be cleansed."
Rowan stepped closer, her dagger flickering with runes. "You're cleansing nothing. Cernunnos is using you to rewrite the river's soul." She pressed a vial into his hand—a liquid shimmering with starlight. "Drink this. It'll break the geis… if you still care about saving lives."
Ethan hesitated. For a moment, he saw Grampa's tear-streaked face, the boy's corpse glowing with the triskele mark, Rowan's hesitant smile (had that been real?). The silver veins pulsed, and Níðhöggr's laughter echoed in his mind: *"She lies. They all lie."*
He crushed the vial, its contents evaporating into mist. "The river chooses its path," he said, turning away.
Rowan's scream pierced the air. "You're not the river! You're a prisoner!"
But Ethan was already submerged, the current swallowing him whole. Below the surface, the river's heart beat—a black void where Lir's essence still lingered. Cernunnos' voice echoed from the depths: *"Bring me the girl's soul. Her blood will seal the geis."*
Ethan's hand closed around a jagged shard of ice—Rowan's dagger, discarded during their fight. Its runes flared, revealing a hidden message: *"The Horned God fears the Well of Segais. Break the bridle, break the curse."*
Grampa's voice intruded: *"Your grandmother found a way to weaken Cernunnos… through the salmon of wisdom."*
Ethan's breath hitched. The salmon—Celtic legend spoke of a fish that swallowed the Well of Segais' waters, gaining infinite knowledge. If he could find it…
He surged upward, breaking the surface. Rowan stood on the bridge, her back to him, shoulders shaking. Ethan reached out, his hand brushing her arm. She spun, eyes wide.
"Rowan," he said, voice strained. "The salmon… where is it?"
Her lips parted. "You remember."
Ethan nodded, the silver veins retreating slightly. "Not much… but enough."
Rowan grabbed his arm, pulling him into the shadows. "The Well of Segais is guarded by the Dullahan's Horde," she said. "They've been hunting me since I stole the bridle."
Ethan frowned. "Why help me?"
Rowan hesitated. "Because Lir's daughter owes a debt to the Reeds," she said, echoing her words from the ritual. "And because…" Her voice trailed off. "The salmon's knowledge could undo the geis… and free you."
They ran, the river's current rising to shield them. Above, the dullahan materialized, its antlers replaced by a crown of thorns. It raised its scythe, and the air filled with the sound of cracking ice.
"Go!" Rowan shouted, pushing Ethan toward a hidden tunnel. "I'll hold them off."
Ethan didn't argue. He dove into the tunnel, the river's voice guiding him deeper. The walls pulsed with bioluminescent runes, and the scent of iron grew overwhelming.
At the tunnel's end lay the Well of Segais—a black pool surrounded by standing stones, its surface reflecting the constellations. A single salmon swam in its depths, scales shimmering with starlight.
Ethan reached into the water. The salmon surged upward, pressing its snout against his palm. Images flooded his mind: his grandmother's final ritual, Grampa's tears, Rowan's true form—a swan with silver feathers, bound by Lir's curse.
"You're not the first Reed to seek the salmon's wisdom," a voice whispered. Ethan turned, finding a spectral figure—a woman with silver hair and a triskele pendant. "Your grandmother came here… and paid the price."
Ethan's chest tightened. "What price?"
The ghost smiled sadly. "The salmon demands a sacrifice. A soul for a soul."
Behind him, the dullahan's laughter echoed. Ethan spun, summoning a geyser to block the entrance. The tunnel trembled, ice fracturing.
"Choose," the ghost said. "Break the geis… or become the river's eternal prisoner."
Ethan clenched his jaw. He pressed the dagger into his chest, channeling the river's energy. Light erupted, merging with the salmon's essence. The fish dissolved into stardust, infusing Ethan's veins with golden light.
The dullahan's scythe slashed through the air, but Ethan raised a hand. The river surged, freezing the creature mid-strike. Its antlers shattered, dissolving into mist.
Rowan staggered into the chamber, blood trickling from her temple. "You did it," she breathed.
Ethan nodded, the silver veins now intertwined with gold. "The geis is broken… but Cernunnos will come for me."
Rowan smiled faintly. "Then we'll be ready."
They emerged into the night, the Thames calm once more. Grampa waited on the shore, his journal open to a page filled with Celtic runes. "You've got your grandmother's fire," he said, voice thick.
Ethan didn't answer. He stared at the river, its current now a symphony of voices—human, divine, and something else. Rowan's hand brushed his arm.
"Tomorrow," she said. "We'll find Lir's daughter… and end this."
Ethan nodded, but his eyes lingered on the horizon. Cernunnos' antlers glowed in the distance, a silent promise.
The horned god's bargain had been shattered… but the price of freedom was only beginning to rise.