Chapter 63 Chapter Sixty-Three
The forest was alive with pursuit.
Unseelie warriors tore through the dark underbrush, their sleek armor whispering against thorn-laced branches. Gold shimmered at the heads of their spears—pulsing, humming, and alive with charged magic meant to paralyze on contact.
Kaelani moved like smoke between trees—silent, swift, focused. The forest bent around her, shadows thickening in her wake, the moonless sky above barely visible through a web of skeletal limbs.
She could feel them gaining.
The ground vibrated with their pace, heavy boots striking moss and root. Above it all, the shrill whir of enchanted spears sliced through the cold air—piercing, precise.
The first warrior burst through the brush—only to halt mid-stride. His gaze darted, searching—
Too late.
The shadows behind him pulsed. A tendril whipped out—slick, fast—coiling around his leg and yanking him backward into the dark. His scream cut off with a dull thud.
Another leapt from the trees. Kaelani raised her hand—and this time, the forest answered.
Vines snapped to life beneath the earth. Gnarled roots tore upward in a spiral, catching the warrior mid-air and locking him in a vice-like hold. They wrapped tighter, enclosing him inch by inch—like a living cocoon.
A shout rang out behind her—sharp, commanding.
Kaelani spun just in time to see one of the warriors plant his spear into the earth. The ground quaked. A massive root tore free like a summoned serpent—hurtling toward her.
She dove aside as it crashed into the tree she’d just abandoned. Bark exploded in a spray of debris.
Kaelani closed her eyes, centering. Summoning.
The air howled.
Wind whipped into a spiral, catching the warrior mid-step. It curled tighter, faster—until it hurled him through the trees like broken prey.
More warriors emerged, flanking her with grim precision. Their movements turned sharp, aggressive. This wasn’t sparring anymore—it was a trial by fire. A true test.
And then the forest shifted.
A low growl rumbled through the mist.
A beast emerged—hulking and antlered, crowned with thorned branches glowing faint blue. Its form shimmered, cloaked in illusion. Six red eyes locked on hers.
It marched forward—each step a quake.
Kaelani turned and ran.
Branches whipped past her, the forest narrowing like a throat. She moved fast—but not fast enough.
A vine shot up from the ground—snaring her ankle mid-stride.
Her feet flew out from under her. She flipped overhead, dangling upside down as the beast roared and charged.
She braced—flinching as its shadow closed in.
And then—
Gone.
The beast vanished in a blink of moonless light.
An illusion.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she looked upward at the vine.
“Let go,” she commanded.
The vine obeyed, snapping free. She plummeted—only to catch herself in a net of shadows that softened her fall, setting her down with a slow, eerie grace.
Her boots touched earth.
She didn’t breathe.
Not yet.
Because now, the warriors weren’t holding back anymore.
Two broke formation—one a blur, the other slamming his palm to the ground.
Roots exploded upward like spikes.
She twisted, narrowly dodging one that ripped past her ribs. Another shredded her sleeve as she ducked low.
The second warrior was already there—spear thrust straight for her chest.
She gritted her teeth and threw up a shield of shadow, catching the weapon mid-air. It crackled against the barrier before dissipating, but the impact still sent her skidding back, boots ripping through turf and muck.
A burst of shadows surged from her in a wave—knocking him off his feet.
A sharp hiss cut through the chaos.
Another warrior summoned a thick, thorned vine from the ground. It shot forward, unnaturally fast and aimed straight for her throat.
Her eyes widened.
She pivoted—but not fast enough.
The vine cracked through the air—
—and stopped with a brutal, whipping sound.
A figure appeared between them like a phantom.
Draevyn.
The vine was wrapped around his forearm in a sickening twist, thorns buried deep, splitting flesh. Blood welled, spilling down to his elbow—but he didn’t flinch.
Silence rippled across the clearing.
The warrior who summoned it froze, face pale.
Draevyn turned his head—slowly.
The look he gave wasn’t rage.
It was worse.
Cold. Calculating. Formidable.
The warrior stepped back without meaning to, throat bobbing in a hard swallow.
“Training,” Draevyn said quietly—his voice the edge of a blade—“doesn’t mean you forget who she is.”
The warrior straightened, chin tilted just enough to betray the spark of defiance still simmering behind his eyes.
“I didn’t forget,” he said darkly. “I just thought she could handle it—since she’s the… so-called Queen of—”
A sharp crack split the air.
The same thorned vine Draevyn had caught now lashed outward with ruthless precision.
It struck the warrior across the face—flesh tearing as thorns raked a wicked gash from cheekbone to jaw. Blood spattered the ground beneath him.
Kaelani flinched—just slightly, just inwardly—but it was enough. She hadn’t expected it. Not the suddenness. Not the silence that followed.
The warrior’s head had snapped to the side with the force of it.
Slowly, he turned back. A thin line of red bloomed down his face. His jaw was tight. Challenging. But his lips remained sealed.
Draevyn’s gaze didn’t waver.
There was no flare of fury in it. No warning.
Just a quiet, ancient promise.
Say one more word.
The warrior swallowed them back… hard.
Draevyn let the silence stretch, then turned his gaze to the others—each one suddenly still, standing at uneasy attention.
“Your services,” he said coldly, “are no longer required.”
He waited a beat—his voice a command unto itself.
“Return to your posts.”
No one argued. No one hesitated.
They dispersed with swift, disciplined motion—disappearing into the trees like ghosts, leaving only their broken silence behind.
The clearing was too quiet now. Still charged, but hollowed out.
Kaelani stood motionless, her pulse still crashing against her ribs, the taste of adrenaline thick in her mouth. Her gaze slid to Draevyn’s arm, blood dripping from his fingers.
She rushed to him without thinking, reaching out and taking his arm into her hands.
The wound was vicious. The thorns had split the flesh in a jagged, twisting pattern that spiraled around muscle and bone—like the vine had carved its own branding into him.
“This looks really bad,” she breathed, her voice low but urgent. “You need to see a physician.”
Draevyn didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at the wound.
Instead, his gaze dropped to her hands—then rose, locking with hers.
“Or…” he murmured, voice silk-dipped steel,
“…you can heal me.”
Kaelani blinked. “Heal you?” Her voice caught. “Fae can do that?”
A shadow of a smile touched his mouth. But it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Not all Fae,” he said. “It’s a rare gift. Only a handful have ever been born with it… and all of them were Seelie.”
He paused. His voice dropped—low and reverent.
“There have only ever been two Unseelie to carry that power.”
His eyes held hers. “You’re one of them.”
She didn’t respond at first. The weight of that revelation settled heavily between them.
Two.
If she was one of the Unseelie with that power… her mother must’ve been the other.
The thought rattled through her like distant thunder—unsettling, powerful.
Kaelani steadied herself. Tightened her grip on his arm.
“Tell me how,” she whispered. “And I’ll heal you.”
The words lingered between them—soft, but weighted with lead.
She was aware of everything now.
The closeness between them.
The feel of his skin beneath her palms.
The look in his eyes.
Something fierce stirred in the silence—neither hunger nor hesitation.
Just gravity.
Kaelani broke the gaze—just in time.
Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, a low growl simmering in her chest, ready to rise with warning.
She blinked, grounding herself, then looked back down at his arm.
The wound was still bleeding—slow, steady, unforgiving.
“Tell me how to heal you,” she said again, this time more firmly. Less breathless. More herself.
Draevyn studied her for a moment longer, then finally spoke.
“Summon your energy,” he said, calm but deliberate. “That violet light within you.”
Kaelani’s head snapped up.
Her brows pulled together. “Are you being serious?”
He didn’t answer.
“You want me to summon that?” she asked, incredulous. “The same energy I used to—”
She stopped herself, as her body tensed. “To kill someone.”
Her eyes searched his face, disbelief flickering across hers.
“You want me to heal you with it?”
The absurdity of it clung to her voice—dark, sharp, bitter.
Kaelani slowly released his arm, her fingers unclenching as if she’d just realized she’d been holding something volatile.
“I don’t ever want to use that power again,” she said quietly. Her voice didn’t tremble, but there was weight behind it—a quiet ache that lived deeper than fear.
Draevyn’s gaze remained steady. He didn’t question her—not with doubt, not with challenge.
Instead, his voice came low. Measured.
“Any power,” he said, “can destroy.”
He stepped closer—not imposing, but grounding.
“Fire can burn homes… or warm the lost. Wind can tear trees from the earth… or carry seeds to bloom where none should grow.”
He paused, watching her face.
“And shadows? They can hide monsters… or shield what’s too fragile for the light.”
Draevyn drew a slow breath, then closed his eyes.
Without a word, he lifted one hand and hovered it over his wound.
Kaelani’s gaze sharpened into a needle-point. “What are you—?”
A golden light surged from his palm.
Soft at first, then brighter—threading through the air like molten silk.
It shimmered as it licked across torn flesh, knitting it closed in slow, fluid pulses.
No incantation. No flourish. Just breath and will.
The light reflected in Kaelani’s widened eyes as she stared in awe. Not breathing. Not blinking.
The gash sealed cleanly beneath his touch—leaving only a faint silvered line behind.
She was still staring when the light faded.
“You…” her voice was scarcely audible, even in the silence of the forest.
“You’re the other Unseelie?”