The Thames churned beneath the seventh moon's glow, its waters roiling with silver scales and shadowy shapes. Ethan stood on the shore, his veins glowing faintly, the kelpie's essence humming in his blood. Rowan paced beside him, the bridle clutched in her hand—a relic now cold and inert, its gemstone bleak.
"You're certain this will work?" she asked, her voice tight.
Ethan nodded. The Book of Binds had warned of the seventh moon's price—a ritual to banish Níðhöggr forever. But the ritual required a sacrifice: a god's soul for a serpent's prison.
"Grampa's journals said the kelpie's power could merge with the bridle," he said. "If I channel the river's energy into it…"
Rowan snorted. "You'll become a living prison. The geis might've broken, but Níðhöggr's corruption will consume you."
Ethan's jaw tightened. He thought of the boy in the river, the lives lost to the kelpie's curse, and Rowan's cryptic warning: You're not the only one bound to the Thames. "It's a risk I'll take."
Before Rowan could argue, a scream split the air—a banshee's wail, raw and primal. The ground trembled, and the dullahan materialized atop a nearby hill, its antlers scraping the moon. It raised its scythe, and the air filled with the sound of cracking ice.
Rowan cursed. "It's not alone."
From the shadows emerged figures—banshees, their forms flickering between mist and decaying flesh. They floated toward Ethan, their hollow eyes fixed on him. He raised his hand, the ring flaring. A wave of energy erupted, knocking them back.
"Stay focused," Rowan hissed. "We need to reach the ritual site."
They ran, the dullahan's hooves thundering behind them. The Thames' current surged, forming a barrier of water between them and their pursuers. Ethan channeled the river's power, urging it to obey. The water froze, creating a bridge of ice.
Rowan hesitated. "You're controlling the river… without the bridle."
Ethan didn't answer. The kelpie's voice whispered in his mind, urging him to embrace the power. He pushed it aside, focusing on the ritual site—a stone circle on an island in the river's center.
As they reached the island, the dullahan's scythe slashed through the air, narrowly missing Ethan. He spun, summoning a geyser of water to knock the creature back. Its antlers shattered, dissolving into mist.
Rowan seized the opportunity. "Now!"
Ethan pressed the bridle into the circle's center. Light erupted, blinding them. When it faded, the island had transformed—a portal shimmered at the circle's heart, its edges lined with the triskele symbol.
"Step through," Rowan said. "The Otherworld's heart is the only place Níðhöggr can be bound."
Ethan hesitated. The portal hummed with energy, pulling at his soul. "What about you?"
Rowan turned away. "I have my own debts to settle."
Before he could protest, she vanished into the mist. Ethan clenched his jaw, stepping into the portal.
The Otherworld greeted him with silence—a void of shifting shadows and whispers. The river flowed overhead, its waters frozen in mid-air. At its center floated a colossal serpent—Níðhöggr, its scales black as tar, eyes burning with hatred.
"You," it hissed, its voice like crumbling mountains. "The kelpie's thrall… come to feed me your soul?"
Ethan raised the bridle. "I come to banish you."
Níðhöggr laughed, the sound shaking the void. "The bridle is broken. Your power is a shadow of mine."
The serpent lunged, but Ethan stood his ground. He pressed the bridle into his chest, channeling the river's energy. Light erupted from his veins, merging with the relic. The bridle's gemstone flared, sucking Níðhöggr's essence into it.
The serpent screeched, its form fracturing. "You cannot contain me! The geis demands blood—yours."
Ethan staggered as Níðhöggr's corruption surged into him. The kelpie's voice grew louder, urging him to surrender. He fought back, focusing on Grampa's lessons, the boy's laughter, Rowan's reluctant alliance.
"I am the river," he roared. "And I claim this soul as my own."
The bridle's light intensified, consuming Níðhöggr. The serpent dissolved into smoke, its final scream echoing into the void. Ethan collapsed, the bridle falling from his hand.
When he opened his eyes, Rowan stood above him, her silver hair tangled with weeds. "You did it," she said, though her tone held no warmth.
Ethan coughed, blood trickling from his lips. "Why… why help me?"
Rowan hesitated. "Because Lir's daughter owes a debt to the Reeds." She knelt, pressing a pendant into his hand—a triskele etched with Celtic runes. "This will keep Níðhöggr's corruption at bay… for now."
Ethan frowned. "What aren't you telling me?"
Rowan turned away. "The bridle's power is tied to the river's heart. As long as you live, Níðhöggr is trapped. But if you die…"
"…he'll return," Ethan finished.
Rowan nodded. "And the Thames will drown the world."
She vanished into the mist, leaving Ethan alone with the pendant's hum. The river whispered a final warning, but he smiled. The geis was broken, the kelpie silenced, and the seventh moon had risen without bloodshed.
For now.