The bonfire burned brightly, and the goat lay on the altar, with Firas beside it, though his hand perhaps trembled a little more as he lifted the knife. Oisin wondered if somebody else would step up to perform the sacrifices when Firas died or not. They might, the memory of last year’s miraculous harvest was still strong. But they might not. All things faded, including human gratitude.
“One year,” said Bel softly as they approached the bonfire’s light. “It seems impossible that so much could change over the course of one year.”
“Yes. It seems like it’s been a century.”
“At least.” Bel smiled. “But come. I must once again accept my sacrifice, even if this year’s is somewhat less impressive.” He stepped out into the light, and Oisin stood beside him. Bel took the blood, and as Oisin looke
