Page 64 of The Last Kelpie

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “Tell me what you were like before you lost your clan”

“Like this.”

“Okay, what about your best friend? What was their name?”

Áedán looked at me for a long moment. “I dinnae remember anymore.”

Ice ran down my spine. “What about your father? What was his name?”

He frowned.

I shot out of my seat. “You said we had time!”

“We do.” He looked away. “I just dinnae ken how much.”

“Áedán, damn it! You convinced me to take our time with the research. You said you weren't fading this week or the next. We could've found Ed days ago if I had focused more.”

“And it woulda been a hellish time.”

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to hold back my tears. We had only begun, and he was already slipping away.

“I used to think forgetting was the worst thing that could happen to me.” Áedán's voice brought me out of my despair. He stared at his hands. “Losing my memories of everyone I loved, losing myself. It terrified me.” He stopped, and the silence stretched. “Lately, I'm not so sure.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten. There was a weight to those words, a meaning I couldn't quite grasp. Before I could ask, he stood abruptly and moved to the window, putting distance between us.

“We found what you were looking for. So, what does it mean?” he asked.

I recognized the deflection but let it go. “Every alteration was deliberate. Surgical. Whoever did this understood exactly how to shift perception without being obvious about it.”

“They stole my history.” His voice was flat. “All this time, they've been rewriting who I was, who my family was, what we meant to the people who lived beside us. And they did it so carefully that no one noticed. Not even the Velasca.”

I thought about Ed's published book, about the countless texts that had cited it, about the children's stories, tourist pamphlets, and rubber toys. About people learning that kelpies were monsters, never knowing that someone had deliberately made them believe it. Áedán was right; not even the Velasca had noticed.

Áedán moved to the sofa and picked up one of the books I'd bought in Luss. The one with the lurid cover illustration. He stared at it for a long moment, his thumb tracing the edge of the glossy paper. “What if this is all that will remain of me?”

I crossed the room without thinking, sat beside him on the sofa, and took his hand. His fingers were colder than usual. “It won't be. Even if you fade, I will know who you were. I will remember you, and I will tell others about you.”

“You're different.” He didn't pull away, but he didn't look at me either. “You know what I am. You've seen the records, the real history. But everyone else? They see that.” He gestured at the illustration with his free hand. “A monster.”

“Then we'll remind them who you really are.” I squeezed his hand. “I know this is exhausting, but it's only the beginning. I needed to know what we were dealing with before I could advise Julian. Don't forget who I am, Áedán. It's my job not only to document who you are and preserve it, but also to tell the world your true story. That's what the Velasca does, and they're good at it. Trust me and stop hiding what's happening to you!”

My words came out fierce, almost angry. Because I was angry. It wasn't just because Áedán had hidden his condition from me, or because someone was systematically destroying the last remnants of an entire species. It was also because someone had hurt him. Some evil bastard had rewritten Áedán's life. My Áedán!

This had stopped being a job the moment I met him. Maybe even before that, when I had seen Zoe and learned the truth about myths. But sitting there, holding Áedán's hand while he stared at a grotesque caricature of himself, I understood with perfect clarity why Caelum had built the Velasca. It was out of love, yes, to honor Velas. But it was also to fight for life. All life. It was to ease the anger inside him, just as I needed to ease my anger. Humans had brought myths to life with their belief, and then they got distracted. They forgot. But the Velasca never forgets. And I was a Velascan. Still, those weren't the only reasons I had to save Áedán. Not because I was a Velascan, or he was the last kelpie.

I had to save him because he was Áedán. Gorgeous, mischievous, intelligent, courageous, compassionate Áedán. The world would be a darker place without him in it.

He squeezed my hand. The pressure was gentle but deliberate, an acknowledgment of what I'd said and what I hadn't. “How? How do we undo this damage?”

“With help.” I turned his hand over in mine, tracing the lines in his palm. “We know when this began, we know how it was done, and we know the real story of kelpies. Now, we circulate the truth while discounting the lies.”

“The truth.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “The truth is that I killed people, Ethan. Not many, but I did. I drowned men who poisoned the water, who beat their wives on my shore, and who abused children. I was judge and executioner both. Maybe the new stories arenae entirely wrong.”

“And that's why it was easy to change your story.” I kept my voice steady. “Lies twisted with truth so expertly that even you are doubting yourself. You were born to be a protector. You killed to protect. Áedán, you're the most honorable man I know.”

He looked at me then, really looked at me. His eyes were dark in the firelight, ancient and tired, but also beautiful. “You're going to get hurt fighting this. Whoever is behind it won't stop just because we've found their alterations.”