Around the circle, students could be heard murmuring in surprise. Morrigan's expression remained neutral, but her eyes found Finn's for a brief moment.

  Did I do this? He wondered. I only did what she told us to do.

  Elva carefully transferred the fire to the nine candles atop the altar, and from these older students took flame to light the wood piles arranged around the circle's perimeter. As each bonfire roared to life, they too carried that distinctive blue-silver tinge.

  "The Need-fire has returned," Morrigan announced.

  Bran was staring at Finn now, hands clenched, knuckles white, his expression a blatant mixture of suspicion, resentment, and something that might have been surprise.

  "Now," Morrigan continued, "prepare your Ancestor Lanterns. Each of you has been assigned a departed Weaver to honor in the Procession. Learn their names, learn their deeds, carry their memory with respect."

  Small iron lanterns were distributed by the second and third-year students, each containing a candle to be lit from the central Need-fire. Along with them, they were handed slips of parchment bearing names and brief descriptions of former Grove members who had passed beyond the veil. Finn received his lantern from a broad-shouldered fellow called Bamber. As he unfolded the accompanying parchment, the name written on in flowing script made his breath catch: Rowan Madden, Guardian of Western Waters, Lost to the Mists.

  "Madden?" he whispered, showing the parchment to Sophie and Kai. "That's my surname!"

  "Probably a coincidence," Sophie suggested, looking at her own parchment that read Aife Archer, Perished in the First. "Wouldn't be surprised if there's another Kerr in one of those lanterns."

  "There are no coincidences in Samhain assignments," Bran's voice came from behind them. He stood just a few meters away, his own lantern already glowing, the parchment crushed in his fist. "The ancestors choose who honors them." His eyes narrowed. "But of course, you don't know that."

  "It's just a name," Finn echoed Sophie, though the likelihood of randomly receiving a parchment with his own surname seemed abysmally small.

  "' Just a name," Bran repeated mockingly. " 'Just luck', 'just coincidence' that your Aether threads match the Need-fire's color?" He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You don't even know what you are, do you? What forces you're playing with. It would be pitiful if it weren't so dangerous."

  'What I am'? Finn felt his anger rising. Let's hear it then. Cause it seems you know.

  "You're right," he said, forcing his voice down. "I don't know who my parents were, and I don't know why the fire took that color. But I know I'm done with your superiority complex and vague threats." He stepped forward, close enough to grab Bran by his collar. "If you know something about me, say it plainly. Otherwise, zip it!"

  The circle had gone quiet, students turning to watch what was happening. Bran's face flushed with anger, but for an instant, something like doubt or uncertainty flickered in his eyes before being subsumed again by overt rage.

  "You want plain speaking, foster boy? Fine. Your precious Rowan Madden wasn't just any Guardian. He was - "

  "Enough!" Morrigan's staff struck the ground between them, sending a pulse of energy rippling outward. "Samhain is not a night for discord. The veil thins, and every negative emotion strengthens what waits beyond." Her eyes moved between them. "Channel your energies into the rituals, or I'll remove you from the circle and send you back to your chambers."

  Bran stepped back, his face a mask of cold dignity. "My apologies, Warden. I forgot myself." He shot one last glare at Finn, turned, and walked away.

  "Mr. Madden," Morrigan said quietly, "a word."

  She led him to the edge of the circle, away from the other students. "The Need-fire reflects the Aether signatures among those who kindle it." The bonfires cast long shadows across her face, making her expression even more difficult to read than usual. "Tonight, that Aether signature was yours - unusually so, given that Bran and Elva were the ones I chose to kindle the fire."

  "I wasn't trying to - "

  "Intention matters less than outcome," Morrigan said, echoing Myrddin. "Your Aether responds strongly, readily. This is neither good nor bad in itself, but you need to learn to control it. It marks you, and others will notice, if they haven't already."

  "Like Bran," Finn said, bitterness creeping into his voice.

  "Mr Blackthorn speaks from wounded pride." Her voice had lost some of its edge. "Some scars lie beyond the visible."

  "I think he was going to tell me something about Rowan Madden," Finn said, seizing the opportunity. "I know it's not an uncommon name, but...is there a connection to me? To my family?"

  Morrigan fell silent for a long moment, her attention seemingly drawn to the darkening forest beyond. "It's almost time," she said finally. "Follow the procession and try to feel the presence of the ancestors. We must honor the dead as we honor the living, Finn."

  Before Finn could respond, she turned and walked back to the circle's center, leaving him with more questions than answers.

  "What did she say?" Sophie whispered when he rejoined her and Kaito to light their lanterns.

  "Not much," Finn replied with a shrug. "Just that I have to learn better Aether control."

  The Ancestor Procession began as true night fell. After all students had lit their candles from the Need-fire, they formed a winding line led by Oisin and the Masters, snaking from the Eastern Circle into the forest. Countless lanterns, now carrying the Need-fire's light, illuminated their path, casting ethereal shadows among the ancient trees.

  Finn walked between Sophie and Kai, his lantern held high, the name Rowan Madden turning over and over in his mind. The forest around them felt unnervingly alive in a way he'd never experienced before - watchful and aware. And there was something in the air that hadn't been there during daytime. He wondered if what he felt was the absence of the veil, or the presence of something that had made its path across, now that the veil was gone.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Keep to the path," Oisin's voice carried back to them, deep and resonant. "Tonight, what seems familiar will lead you astray. The light guides true; the darkness deceives."

  The procession wound deeper into the woods, following a route marked by stones carved with protective ogham that glowed faintly as if chiseled with distant starlight. Occasionally, Finn thought to glimpse movement just beyond the light's reach - mirages that vanished the very instant he tried to observe them directly. Whispers rustled through the leaves overhead, but they sounded different, more rhythmic, than the chirps and tweets and grunts of the forest's usual inhabitants.

  "I sense it too," Kai murmured. "The ancestors walk with us. That's what all of this is for - to guide them, for this one night only, back to the world of the living."

  "My cousin told me that some can actually see them - the dead," Sophie added, as she lifted her lantern and dangled it right in front of her face. "Standing just at the edge of vision, watching over the procession."

  Finn felt like a little kid being fed ghost stories by his two older siblings. He lifted his lantern higher, studying the dancing shadows all around them.

  "Do you think - " he began, but a commotion ahead interrupted him.

  The procession had halted at a small opening to the left of the path they were walking down. At its center stood a single standing stone, different from the others they'd passed - taller, more weathered, and covered in ogham that glowed with the same blue-silver light as the Need-fire. But it wasn't the stone that had caused the procession to halt. It was Bran who had broken rank and now stood facing the stone, his lantern raised, his body rigid.

  "Lachlan?" Finn heard him call, his voice strained and uncertain. "Is that you, Lachlan?"

  Whispers rippled through the procession as students craned their necks to see what was causing the holdup. Oisin moved forward, his staff raised warily, its tip a burning beacon of protective light.

  "Bran Blackthorn, return to the procession," he commanded. "Do not address what you think you see."

  But Bran seemed not to hear. He took another step toward the standing stone, then another one. Finn realized that he had left the path's protective boundary. "I can see you this time," Bran said, speaking to something in the shadows. "We've been waiting for you. I've been waiting for you. I won't lose you again."

  Alarm spread through the Masters. Morrigan and áine moved to flank Oisin, both beginning to weave Aether threads that started to close like a curtain of glowing energy between Bran and the stone.

  Without thinking, Finn pushed forward through the students ahead of him. "Bran!" he called. "Stop it! That's not your brother!"

  Bran turned, his face blank. "What do you know about it, Madden? You've been here barely a month." He faced the stone again, whispering, "This is my chance. I have to find him."

  "It's Samhain," Finn pressed, moving closer. "The veil is thin. Morrigan has mentioned this a million times. Not everything that crosses over has good intentions."

  Something in his words seemed to reach Bran, inserting a kernel of doubt. He could see Bran hesitate, his eyes flicking back toward the stone - but in that moment, Finn saw it too. A figure, translucent as mist but growing more solid with each passing second. A young man with Bran's features, but older, his arms outstretched in welcome.

  Could it really be?

  But around the figures' edges, where mist met air, something caught his eye. It looked like the figure fraying, unraveling to reveal something cold and alien beneath its human guise.

  "That's not him," Finn said with sudden certainty, stepping to Bran's side. "Whatever it is, I think it's using your memory of him to lure you across."

  Bran's face contorted with anger. "You know nothing," he hissed, his voice full of resentment.

  I know damn well that this isn't your brother," Finn insisted, raising his lantern higher. "Look closely. There, on the edges."

  The moon broke through the clouds, casting its pale light across the apparition, and for a split second, the figure wavered, the handsome, familiar features replaced by something that felt wrong and inhuman. The next moment, they were looking at Lachlan Blackthorn again.

  "Bran," Lachlan called, his voice a haunting echo that somehow carried directly to both their ears. "I've been waiting, Bran. I found a way back, but it'll disappear tonight. Please, brother, help me come back home."

  Bran's eyes widened. "He's real," he croaked. "It's really him."

  "It's not!" Finn grabbed Bran's arm. "It's using your memories, your desire to see him again!"

  "Stay away from me, Madden," Bran snapped, backing towards the apparition. Fury had given way to grief and anguish. "How dare you try to keep me from finding my brother."

  With that, he turned and sprinted into the forest, chasing the ghostly figure that retreated deeper into the woods, always just beyond reach, luring him further and further.

  "Bran, stop!" Oisin thundered, his voice whipping through the trees, but Bran was already out of sight.

  Chaos erupted among the other students who had watched Bran disappear into the dark. Pia Parrish could be heard screaming for someone to bring him back, her voice laden with panic. Morrigan and áine continued weaving protective barriers to prevent other students from following, while Oisin could be seen conferring with Maelor.

  "The procession must continue," Morrigan announced, her voice cutting through the confusion. "You must stay within the boundaries. Master Maelor will pursue Blackthorn and see to his safe return."

  But Finn was already moving, sliding beneath Morrigan's partially formed barrier and racing into the trees.