CHAPTER 171

CHAPTER 171
Joel didn't go any further than the valley.

He was a day's journey south of the stronghold when the snow disoriented him. He'd taken the upper ridge, the path only hunters and scouts familiar with the ancient blood path knew. The others begged him to wait, to march with the warband.

He wasn't aware.

A noose was tightening around Emerald's throat. He could feel it. In the marrow beneath his bones. In the tightness at the backs of his eyes. The air tasted different—frosted over with ashes. If he waited even a few hours, the tie between them would become irreparably broken.

And he fled.

Difficult. Quick. Silent. Wolf shape.

Until he cracked the ice beneath his paws.

He noticed it a split second too late. the hollow moan beneath the snow.

After the Fall.

The cliff edge shattered.

His body hit rock.

The cold never registered.

The aching did.

It seared across his ribs and along the length of his spine.

He shifted in mid-air, attempting to wriggle away from the serrated rock. But the ice had him. It pulled him down. A limb of the mountain stretching out to claim him in its entirety.

When he eventually stopped falling, he lay still.

Shallow breathing. Primarily unconscious.

His right leg was unnaturally twisted. His ribcage creaked with each breath.

He attempted to stand.

He couldn't.

And above it all the wind was carrying the distant sound of howling. wrong, too low. Not wolves. Not any he knew.

He clamped his eyes shut at the hurt.

He would not return to Emerald tonight.

The cabin air was thick and filled with smoke.

Emerald didn't initiate a fire.

The smoke had come from the east. the distant woods, where the line of trees had turned black three days previously. She'd first thought a storm. But then the birds vanished. The squirrels fell silent. Even the insects stopped their incessant buzzing.

And the eastern sky went pale red.

The butler stood in the doorway, his hand on the hilt of his never-drawn sword.

He had not left her since the letter arrived.

"I don't think he's coming back," Emerald repeated flatly.

The butler didn't look at her. "Not yet."

“You don't know it.”

“I am certain he would tear the moon out of the sky to return to you. And he hasn't. Which implies something's preventing him from doing it. Something. stronger.”

Emerald rubbed the spot on her hand.

Again it had changed.

Its edges curled, vine-like, around her wrist. It didn't hurt. but it pulsed faintly every time she turned her hand toward the mirror.

The scarf she'd made the day before.

"I saw her again," Emerald said.

“When?”

“Reflected in the kettle. Briefly. On her face a better image. She looked like me.”

The butler slowly turned to her. "Did she speak?"

“No, but I heard her laugh.”

A pause.

"And?" he asked.

Emerald hesitated. "That sounded like my gun."

The butler remained silent. He proceeded to the window, staring at the red glow on the horizon.

"You must prepare yourself," he eventually said. "If Joel has been injured, or worse."

Don't say it.

"Then you will be the final line of defense. The only one who will be able to resist her."

Emerald laughed, a hard, bitter sound. "I can't even resist a ghost in a mirror."

She is not a ghost.

What is she, then?

The butler completely turned to her. "She is the part left over from the blood ritual. A seed which never perished. You were supposed to bear her. Not battle her."

Emerald's breath caught.

"You knew this?" she whispered.

His face darkened. "We all did."

She took a step back. “ All ?”

All the elders. All the alphas. All the servants of this cursed bloodline. Lena was the last to be strong enough to hold it back. Joel believed he could defy the fates. So he chose you. And the fates. wait.

Emerald's hands trembled. "You lied to me,"

I protected you.

“From  what ?”

"Which you are becoming."

Joel's awareness fluctuated in and out of pain.

He saw snow. There was blood. A tree grew sideways along a bluff's face, roots embedded deep in icy rock.

He heard voices.

Not from around.

from his past.

"Don't let the mountain take you," his father wheezed.

Then louder, Lena: "The bond must break for the rite to start."

He didn't understand.

He did not wish to.

Beneath the ice, he sensed something stirring.

A ripple.

A person.

No eyes. No limbs.

Scarcely a presence.

Its eyes gazed back at him.

And smiled.

When he woke up again, somebody had dragged him out of the pit.

He glimpsed firelight.

Heavy blankets.

A humble abode.

And Lazaro, walking beside him.

"You are a fool," the alpha growled gruffling.

Joel attempted to speak. His mouth filled with blood.

"You broke your femur. You've got broken ribs, three of them. You're not walking anywhere."

Joel reached for the pouch at his waist.

He shook his head. "Still alive. Still aching. Which means she's still alive."

Joel coughed. "I must go."

You will bleed to death in ten paces.

He looked at him pleadingly. "She is all alone."

"No," Lazaro replied. "She has the butler. She has the ancient runes. And she has fire."

His fists were tight. "Not enough."

Make her do it to your satisfaction.

Joel stiffened

He reached into the satchel and withdrew a disk of the stone carved with sigils.

"The Mirror Path," he declared. "Used only in dark rituals. Send her dreams. Warnings. Commands. It's dangerous. It requires blood. But it works."

He took it.

Even broken, even burning. he would still exist.

Emerald had another dream that night.

This time, however, she realized it wasn't  her  dream.

She was standing in an ash field.

Above, the stars trail redblack.

And turning to face her: Joel.

Halfe in shade. Bruised. A bloodied temple.

He gazed at her as if he had not seen her in years.

"Emerald," he answered

She held her breath. "Where are you?"

"In the north. I am injured. But alive."

She pushed forward, stretching.

He stepped back. "This isn't real. It's only a thread between us."

Why didn't you come back?

I tried.

He glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowing.

She's arriving, isn't she?

Emerald nodded. "Through the mirrors. Through me."

Joel's tone turned resentful. "You scorch the petals. All of them."

They aren't flammable.

Then you do. You are the fire now. You weren't just chosen to be her vessel. but her prison.

Emerald went pale. "What if I can't keep her?"

Then let me.

She shook her head. "You're not here."

He advanced a further step. "Then fight. Until I am."

The dream started to fall apart.

Flames licked at the edge of her vision.

She reached for him.

Their fingers met.

And then he was gone.

Emerald awoke with tears running down her cheeks.

The jar was gone.

So were the petals.

In its place, on the hearth, lay a sigil she did not recognize. new and softly radiant.

He arrived quietly as always.

"He called for us, didn't he?" she said.

The butler nodded. "I caught the pull. The magic was treacherous."

"He said I'm her prison."

"You were always"

Emerald approached the hearth, the glow from the sigil shining in her eyes. "Then bring her along," she whispered. Shattering behind her, the mirror.