Day 30: The Full Opening of Maeve and Cabhan

Maeve lived on a farm at the back of the town. She had grown up in this house, and after fifty years exploring the world she had decided to move back. Her dream was always to help people so she travelled as a nurse, healing the sick and providing aid where she could. Through her travels she had gained knowledge, wisdom and love. The man that sat tending to the fire was responsible for much of that.

His face was as handsome as it was when they first met, his skin unblemished by wrinkles, his hair still a fiery red, with eyes deep and innocent. Anyone would think he was her son, until the two talked. Cabhán was forty years her senior. An immortal who had seen more of the world than she ever would. Yet, he stuck with her, had moved back here with her, had promised to keep up the farm as she couldn’t.

In every way he was her soulmate.

Often, he would bicker with her, sometimes over trivial things like what to get the grandchildren for their coming of age ceremonies, and sometimes over important issues like money and the secrets to immortality. Despite these small conflicts, the two never resented each other or held a grudge that lasted longer than an hour.

“I have the rest of my life for grudges,” Cabhán would say, his brown eyes flickering in the candlelight. “I would like to spend our limited time together being hopelessly devoted to you.”

She would kiss him them, kiss him fiercely until all remnants of anger faded away. They would love each other till the day she died. Ideally, she wouldn’t die at all, but the immortals had lost the ability to pass on their gifts. So, she settled for a measly human lifespan of romance.

It was bliss. He moved to sit beside her on the couch, wrapping his arm around her, the fire roared as she read, feeling Cabhán’s eyes gazing over her shoulder, reading along with her. He didn’t have long, in a few hours it would be midnight and it would be time for him to feed. Years ago, she would have let him drink from her own neck, but there were plenty of young people in the village for that now.

Cabhán shot up from his seat, and stared at the door, snarling. His fangs were exposed, and Maeve smiled at her beloved guard dog, moving to open it. He stayed behind her, and she remembered the days when it was frightening to be a woman living on her own.

She opened the door and gasped, Cabhán’s growls piercing her ears.

 A blonde-haired man stood before them, his sapphire eyes glowing in the light of the moon. “Hello,” His voice lilted softly, unafraid of her wolf’s growls. “I have come from the town.”

“Get out.” Cabhán had eased his growling to a death stare. She felt his arm again wrap round her, claiming her as his own.

“Listen to me, I swear it’s worth your while.” There was something in the man’s face, something so innocent, yet his fangs told her otherwise.

Maeve was intrigued by him. She had never seen a person with eyes so wild. There was a large scar down his cheek, a crack in what she considered perfection. He was handsome, and the pristine white coat told her he was a scientist. Perhaps he had heard about her nursing of immortals and had come for advice. “I think we should hear what he has to say.”

Cabhán reluctantly stepped aside, eyeing her as if to say she would owe him for this. She only smiled back; she would do anything for him.

The stranger sat by the armchair nearest the fire, his long fingernails tapping against the arm rest. Talons that Maeve had only seen once before, almost thirteen years ago. The night of the moon sacrifice.

“What do you want?” Cabhán snarled.

“I may have found a way to make you immortal.” He stared at Maeve with a grin, and she felt her stomach flutter. She would do anything to live with Cabhán forever, to have the immortal life of her dreams.

“Impossible.”

Maeve hated the way Cabhán snapped at him, did he not want her to be immortal? Or perhaps it was his hunger talking.

“It was,” he began to dig into his pockets for something then produced a purple stone that appeared to be glowing. “Until I found this.”

“What is it?” Maeve asked, ignoring Cabhán who was now standing completely in front of her, his eyes fixated on the stone.

“It’s a moonstone and he shouldn’t have it.” Cabhán softened his voice to address her but kept his eyes firmly on the rock. “No one should wield that power.”

“Yet here I am.” He laughed a little, “Here is the deal, you help me and I’ll give,” He paused and nodded his head towards her.

“I’m -”

Cabhán hissed. “Never give an immortal your name.” He squeezed her hand.

She knew this, knew the powers that were in a name, the control a being could hold over a person from a single word. After years surviving amongst the immortals, she shouldn’t have tried to tell the stranger who she was, but there was something so compelling about him. As if from the moment she saw him she was called to him.

The stranger’s smile grew wider, “Name or not, I will grant her immortality if you help me.”

“Help you do what?” Maeve asked, feeling Cabhán grow angrier. It wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t fed yet, and by the stranger’s face she could tell he knew it.

“All will be revealed soon enough. I’m staying by the lake, in the old fisherman’s house. Come find me when you are ready.” The man stood and began to move towards the door. With his hand on the doorknob he turned back, and with a smirk added, “You can call me Lochran if you wish.”

He hadn’t claimed Lochran as his name but had given it as an option. They could refer to him as such but the word would hold no power over him. She had used similar tricks when working with the fae at the south of the continent. They were tricksters who would have bound her healing abilities to serve them

Cabhán growled, eyes focused on the closed door of their cottage. He would be like this until the man’s footsteps were far enough away for them to talk without being overheard. Immortal hearing was a remarkable thing.

“I should kill him.” Cabhán snarled.

“He seemed pleasant.”

“No one that carries a moonstone is anything of the sort.”

“What if it’s true, what if I could be immortal?” It was selfish of her to ask, especially when Cabhán was this hungry, he should have been her first priority. Yet, she couldn’t help herself, the thought of her living an immortal life with Cabhán was extremely appealing.

He looked at her with a glare, his brown eyes turning red, decades ago this would have scared her, but she knew better now. Cabhán wouldn’t hurt her. “What he is promising is impossible.”

She resented the hopelessness in his voice and wondered if he would feel differently after he had eaten. Her hunter kissed her on the forehead and with a flash of red, and a quick gust of wind, he was out the door. 

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Friends, that is it! The end of NaNoWriMo! I don't think I'll ever stop writing every day, because I've been writing The Secret Project every day for at least three years but writing something Brand New every day has been incredible. It's been so different and refreshing and motivating and inspirational. I really don't want to stop, so I'm going to try, once a week, to create something, be it a full short story or a meagre 300 words about leaves turning yellow, I want to make it.

Secondly, I wanted to upload two things today. To thank everyone who has read these, but also to round of NaNoWriMo in a weird bookend.

You see, originally, I planned to do this as a break away from My Secret Project. Something to give me new sorts of inspiration, and so my mind drifted to a short story I had begun to write on a night I was very scared and alone. I wanted to spend NaNoWriMo writing more and more of this project until it finished, but, for whatever reason, life happened and I broadened my horizons a bit. I can't remember why I made the decision to change things up, but I'm glad I did. I've written some things this month that I want to perfect, to polish off and complete. There have been pieces that other people have also really loved, and truthfully, that's what I like most about writing.

I LOVE making people feel things, whether its towards a character or a setting. That connection you get where you delve into a story or book and the world feels entirely your own? That's my favourite thing in the world and I will always strive to make people feel SOMETHING towards my stories.

So, if you have enjoyed or smiled or been slightly creeped out by anything I've written please let me know. Because it would make my heart burst.

Anyway,

Thank you So much for reading !! Especially to the rare few who have somehow read every single story despite it being The Most Hectic time of the year!


This was the final day of my NaNoWriMo project where I aimed to write a new short story every day in November! Originally all of these were posted to instagram, but the 300 word limit was a little confining so I came here to post everything I'd written and a little bit more!