Come In, Friends

Come In, Friends
Ian

Oakley moves from one end of the cottage to the other, tidying little sticks and tossing rocks in a pile near what can be construed as the front door. I’m leaning on the stone wall I imagined I might turn into a hearth one day during my ridiculous day dreams, watching her spiral. “Can we please talk about this, Oakley?”

“There’s nothing new to say. You’ve already made it clear I cannot stay here with you and that you’re going to reject me. Maybe you’re right, and that’s the only way to save the both of us, but I just–” She skirts past me and neatly sets her armful of twigs on the ground just beyond the cottage rubble. “Don’t touch those. I’m going to make a broom.”

“Okay,” I breathe, reaching to catch her arm before she manages to sneak past me again, but I miss, and she goes back to whatever she’s doing. 

Clearing her mind. Keeping her hands busy while the world burns down around us. I get it. It’s probably why, after returning from the creek, I gathered several logs and started mapping out the additions on the cottage she’s now cleaning like her life depends on it. 

We are wired the same way. It’s not even a mate thing. We would have been perfect for each other regardless of the Goddess’ involvement, and that’s clear as day when she rises to her full height, presses her hands to her hips, and says, “The kitchen will go here. It’s south facing. We could keep a small herb garden against the window.”

“That’s the idea.”

She looks at me over her shoulder and her eyes show that she’s heartbroken. 

“Can we talk?” I step toward her. “Please.”

“Is this the moment?” she murmurs wetly, failing to smile like she’s intending. “Is it going to hurt?”

“I think we need to put our trust in Wren before anything is decided.”

“You’ve already decided, though.”

I have, and it’s killing me. Regardless of dreams, regardless of what I–what we both–want, our reality is damning, and no amount of tidying and planning renovations of this pile of rubble is going to fix that. 

“I don’t want to reject you. I do not want that.” I step into her space, closing the distance between us. “But you know my sentiments about the fact that you’re here, thousands of miles from your home and your family, while I continue to put you in danger.”

“I won’t go home without you.” Her voice doesn’t waver. “Even with your promises of coming back in time for the Harvest Festival. Look at this place. I know you feel the same as I do about it. It’s perfect. We can have everything we need. We’d be safe and happy here.”

“Would you actually be happy away from the life you knew? Spending your life  in solitude with me?”

“I’m already alone in Silverhide,” she says, her eyes shining in the morning sunlight breaking through the rainclouds. “I’m the only daughter in my family. I have one true friend, and the last time I saw her, we were at each other's throats over the heavy expectations on our shoulders now as  women who have come of age.” She steps toward me but stops with only a foot of distance between us. “I didn’t think I’d find my mate so soon after my sacred birthday. Do you know what they call it in the tribes? The sacred twenty-first birthday? It’s called the Becoming. It ushers in the beginning of everything. My entire life. My future. And that night, I got my first scar. A full moon, Ian, just like yours.”

“Did you call it the Becoming?” My brain whirls over a memory from last year, long before I’d come face to face with Oakley after only knowing of her, catching rare glimpses of her whenever I visited Silverhide. I’d been in Moonrise during Fallon’s stint in KiloKilo. The whole family was up in arms, struggling with a path forward, and putting all our faith in Zayn, a man we thought we knew so well. 

I can’t remember what possessed me to visit the Grand Temple that morning. I have fleeting memories of standing in the temple wondering why I was there in the first place, but the mystic who read my prophecy is clear as day in my head. 

Her triumph will be the knell that rings clear on the night of your becoming. 

Had I heard it wrong the first time? My becoming? As in, her birthday, and the first night I shifted into the beast? Because looking back, it was definitely me who scared those hunters to death. It was me she stumbled upon in New Glade and frightened her so badly she nearly fell to her death. That was when it began. My Becoming. Her sacred birthday. 

“Ian?”

I step into her, taking her face between my hands, and kiss her. She startles but then grips my wrists and sinks into the sensation. I pull away, breathless, and say, “We’re going to figure this out. I promise you. We’ll find a way out of here, together, if I can make this right.”

We both turn to shuffling in the woods beyond the tree line. I don’t step away from Oakley when Fennec appears looking rested but covered in twigs and carrying his traveling cloak over his arm. Naomi is next, looking peeved but alert, and she frowns at me with a skeptical look in her eyes as Juliette comes up behind her. 

Fennec’s lips part, but Naomi beats him to it, announcing, “We’re leaving now. I’m expected in the Roguelands, as are you, Ian, and her. We need to go.”

“I need another day,” I reply, and her frown deepens. 

“Would you rather come willingly, and let our family help, or face an entire battalion of Ghost warriors? Because those are your options, Ian.”

“I just need a day. I’ll leave with you willingly, at nightfall if it’s possible. I swear.”

“Nightfall?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes to Fennec, who shoots her a warning glance. “When you shift again? I don’t think so.”

“It’s better now,” Oakley says with a confidence that cuts me to the core. “And there’s someone who might be able to help us.”

“Oh?” Naomi’s expression sharpens. “Who?”

I look down at Oakley and graze her cheek with my fingers when I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. Naomi notices it and rolls her eyes to the clouds. “We need to make one detour, and then I will try. I’ll try to go home,” I promise.



“I don’t like this, Ian,” Naomi shouts above the howling wind. It’s pouring rain–whipping rain, actually–and so foggy I can’t tell up from down. 

Wren knows exactly where he’s going, and the pathway carved into the mountainside, with a severe drop off into what sounds like crashing waves, is well traveled. He carries a single oil lantern to guide our way. But his head is bowed. The sack on his back weighs down his shoulder, and he’s not a weak or small man by any means. 

Oakley walks directly in front of me. I keep my hand on her shoulder, my fingers bunched into the fabric of her cloak, fully prepared to catch her if she teeters toward the edge of the path. 

I have a sinking suspicion I know exactly where we are, but it feels impossible. 

Fennec shares my sentiments and says, “I believe this is the far western edge of Eastonia. Of the continent.” His breathless awe skitters through the group. 

“I believe you’re correct,” Naomi echoes, swallowing hard. “But what is that below us? There are supposed to be plains before the ocean this far north. That cannot be the ocean.”

“It’s not,” Wren confirms, stopping to look at us over his shoulder, his lantern painting golden shadows across his face. Directly behind me, Juliette inhales sharply when his gaze briefly falls on her, but he looks away, gazing down at the steep, carved drop off into nothing. “There’s a massive lake below us,” he adds. “It’s very deep and has its own tide.”

“Is there a name for the lake?” Naomi asks, but Wren shakes his head. 

“No one goes here. It’s cursed. It was carved directly out of the mountains when the Goddess dropped the veil over Eastonia.” His voice is completely, utterly serious and edged with a silent warning: Do not fall in. 

“Oh, wonderful.” Naomi huffs, then clears her throat. “Why would anyone live here, then? There’s nothing green. We’re at least four miles away from the forest at this point.”

“Fraser does not like guests,” Wren deadpans, and he turns away, walking into the fog. 

Fennec looks at each of us in silence before following the other fox into the mist. 

“Fraser, huh?” Naomi drawls. “My guess is we’re about to come face to face with a wiry, half-feral old man who lost his mind ages ago. I really hope this detour isn’t in vain, Ian.”

Oakley suddenly runs directly into Fennec, who has come to a complete stop. I clutch her shoulder and yank her against my chest to steady her. Juliette and Naomi gasp and grumble behind me. 

Wren’s lantern lights up the mist, which fades, swept away by a gust of wind carrying another sheet of cold rain, and our entire group–grumpy, wet, and cold–falls so silent I can hear the wind howling through the mountain valleys high above us. 

We’re no longer on the narrow path. A gaping entrance to a deep, dark cave opens up directly ahead. A wide swath of solid ground expands before of us, made of pure rock. Oakley looks down at the uneven surface, at the long claw marks in groups of three. 

Wren hauls the sack from his shoulder and tosses it into the cave, where it spills, and several items clink together. “Fraser! I’ve come seeking aid!” Wren’s voice echoes into nothing but shadow. 

Naomi is silent and perfectly still, which is shocking, to say the least. Her heart rate spikes to the point that both Fennec and I can sense it, but just as I turn to her to ensure she’s not on the verge of fainting, slow, sturdy footsteps echo toward us, and a sharp, golden light bounces into view. 

“Who, exactly, is Fraser?” I ask, the words wobbling off my tongue. 

Wren sighs and looks just as pale as the rest of us, but he fails to answer. 

“Wren, who is this man?” I press, and the sudden panicked look in his eyes makes my blood run cold. He told me this guy, this stranger, was like me. A beast. The claw marks beneath our feet are evidence of that. 

I shove Oakley behind me when the lantern light comes to a stop at the entrance of the cave, too bright to make out the person, or being, carrying it. 

Wren backs up. Fennec snatches Juliette’s arm and tugs her to his side. Naomi remains behind me, silent as a ghost. 

Wren slowly, carefully, lowers to the ground on his knees. “I come seeking aid.”

“Why?” a deep, rumbling male voice replies. “What makes you think I’m willing to help, fox?”

“I owe a favor to a friend who needs help.”

“You owe a favor? What has he done to help you? You’re not usually one to seek aid, Wren. You, more than others, understand what a deal with me entails. Now I am curious.”

“Fuck,” Wren whispers, bowing his head, and I do not like this. Not at all. 

Whatever is about to step out of the darkness is going to kill us all. I feel it in my bones. My senses rile, warning me we’re in grave danger. 

Naomi suddenly shoves forward and thrusts her arms out in front of her, her fingers glowing with magic. The lantern swings to a stop, the person carrying it halting mid-step. An eerie, suffocating silence sweeps over us for several achingly long seconds before a… man steps into view. 

He’s tall and not nearly as old as I thought he’d be, maybe thirty, at the most. Jet black hair falls over his shoulders in gentle waves, and his tan skin betrays the fact that he must live here, high in the mountains, where snow remains on the peaks even in the dead of summer. 

But it’s his eyes that make even the beast inside me shut up, for once. 

Glowing golden orbs lock on us. He tilts his head, not at all the old, wiry, and half-feral man I thought he’d be. 

Dressed in black, scaled leather, he arches a brow at us, then slowly looks down at Wren. “You know I don’t like company.”

“Lord Fraser, I did not have any other options.”

Fraser slowly looks up and narrows his almost reptilian gaze at Naomi in particular. “Is she for me?”

“You fucking wish,” Naomi snarls, and Fennec shushes her firmly, but the damage is done. 

Fraser smiles, but that quickly fades when he turns his gaze toward me. “Well,” he drawls. “A Dire. I didn’t think I’d ever see one again.” He looks back at Naomi. “Especially in the company of a witch like her.”

“He’s carrying a curse. His mate is also afflicted. They require help.” Wren’s look is pleading.

“Fine. Easy enough, but she stays with me as payment.” He points to Naomi, who looks murderous. “Otherwise, leave before I kill all of you. It’s been years since I’ve eaten.”

A cold chill runs down Oakley’s spine and pings up mine. 

Juliette, who has been so quiet I’ve forgotten she’s here, suddenly steps forward with bright, girlish, excited eyes. Fraser seems surprised to see her, too, and he cocks his head. 

“Oh, my Goddess,” she exclaims, shoving Fennec away and approaching Fraser. “Are you… a dragon?”

Fraser bends at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees to look her directly in the eyes, and shockingly, his smile seems strangely sincere. Excited, even. Thrilled. “My gods. An Alchemist. Well, this changes everything. Come in, friends.” He extends his hand to Juliette, who takes it without question. Wren jerks to his feet, puffed up, and Fennec is also biting through his lip to stop from jumping into action, but Fraser gently presses Juliette’s hand into the crook of his elbow and turns her toward the mouth of the cave. 

“Follow me. It’s terrible weather. I wouldn’t want any of you to catch colds,” Fraser says with a charming smile.

“What in the actual fuck is going on?” Naomi snarls.