Chapter 203 CHAPTER 203

Chapter 203 CHAPTER 203
Mathias's POV
Elara didn't say anything. She just held me.

Her arms were warm around my shoulders, steady and solid. She didn't rush me. She didn't tell me to stop. She just let me cry, let me pour out all the grief and guilt and shame that had been building inside me for years.

I buried my face in her shoulder and let go.

The sobs came in waves. Ugly, broken sounds that tore out of my throat. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried like this. Maybe never. Maybe I had never let myself feel anything this deeply.

But now it was all coming out. Everything I had been holding back. Everything I had been too scared to face. Everything I had buried under years of lies and secrets and survival.

"I'm sorry," I choked out between sobs. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—I never wanted—"

"I know," Elara murmured. Her hand moved in slow circles on my back. "I know you didn't."

"I tried to save them. I tried to save everyone. But I couldn't. I couldn't—"

"Shh. Breathe, Mathias. Just breathe."

I tried. I tried to pull air into my lungs, but it came out in shuddering gasps. My whole body was shaking. I felt like I was falling apart.

Elara held me tighter.

"You're not alone," she said softly. "You're not alone, Mathias. I'm here. I've got you."

I don't know how long we stayed like that. Minutes. Maybe longer. Time had stopped meaning anything. All I knew was that Elara was there, and she wasn't letting go, and for the first time in years, I didn't feel completely alone.

Eventually, the sobs quieted. The tears slowed. I was left feeling empty and raw, like someone had scraped out the inside of my chest.

"Come on," Elara said gently. "Let's get you inside."

She helped me to my feet. My legs were shaky, barely holding me up. She wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me through the door.

The cottage was warm and cozy. A fire crackled in the hearth. The smell of herbs and something sweet hung in the air. It felt safe. It felt like home.

Elara sat me down on a worn couch near the fire. I sank into the cushions, my body going limp.

"Wait here," she said. "I'll be right back."

She disappeared into another room.

I sat there, staring at the fire. The flames danced and flickered, casting shadows across the walls. I watched them without really seeing them.

My mind was a mess. A complete mess, I couldn't even think straight and it felt like chaos swirling leaving now room for a reasonable thought.

Elara came back. She was carrying a tray with two cups of tea. The steam curled up into the air, carrying a scent that was both familiar and strange.

"Here," she said, setting the tray down. "Drink this."

I looked at the cup. "I'm not in the mood."

"I know." She sat down beside me. "But you need to. It'll help."

I shook my head. "I don't want—"

"Mathias." Her voice was gentle but firm. "Look at me."

I looked.

Her eyes were soft, filled with concern. She reached out and touched my arm.

"You're fragmented," she said quietly. "Your mind is scattered. I can see it. I can feel it. You need something to help you calm down, or you're going to spiral."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that nothing could help, that I was too far gone, that there was no point.

But the look in her eyes stopped me.

"Please," she said. "For me."

I sighed. I took the cup.

The tea was warm in my hands. I brought it to my lips and took a sip.

The taste was... strange. Herbal and bitter, with a hint of something sweet underneath. I felt it slide down my throat, warm and soothing.

And then I felt it.

A gentle warmth spread through my chest. It moved outward, into my limbs, into my mind. The edges of my panic started to soften. The chaos in my head began to quiet.

I took another sip.

"How do you feel?" Elara asked.

"Better," I admitted. "A little."

"Good. Finish it."

I did.

By the time I set the cup down, my mind was clearer. Not fixed—not even close—but clearer. The panic had receded. The despair was still there, but it wasn't drowning me anymore.

"Thank you," I said.

Elara nodded. "You're welcome."

I leaned back and let myself flop onto the end of the couch. I stared up at the ceiling, at the wooden beams and the shadows that danced across them.

Neither of us spoke for a moment. The fire crackled. The wind whispered outside.

Then Elara said, "I never understood how my brother fell in love with her."

I opened my eyes and looked at her.

"Your mother," she continued. "She was a werewolf. And my brother was a witch. We were raised to believe that the two worlds shouldn't mix. But your father didn't care about any of that."

She paused, a small smile touching her lips.

"She had this fire in her. This spirit. She didn't care what anyone thought. She didn't care about rules or expectations or what was proper. She loved him, and he loved her, and that was enough."

I felt my throat tighten.

"She was the bravest person I ever met," Elara said. "And I was always jealous of her. Jealous of her courage. Jealous of her freedom. Jealous of the way she could laugh in the face of danger and never back down."

"You never told me that," I said quietly.

"I never told you a lot of things." She looked at me. "You were just a child. And then you were a young man carrying too much weight. I didn't know how to reach you."

"I was angry," I admitted. "At everyone. At the world. At myself."

"I know."

"The hybrid thing. It's—it's been the hardest part." The words spilled out before I could stop them. "I don't fit anywhere. I'm too witch for the wolves, too wolf for the witches. I'm an abomination. A monster. A creature that should never have existed."

"Mathias." Elara's voice was sharp. "Stop."

I looked at her.

"You are not an abomination," she said. "You are unprecedented."

I blinked. "What?"

"You are the first of your kind. A witch-wolf hybrid. There has never been anything like you in the history of either race. Do you understand what that means?"

I shook my head.

"It means you are not something that should not exist. You are something new. Something unique. Something that has never been seen before." She leaned forward. "Your father gave you the wisdom of the witches. Your mother gave you the strength of the wolves. You carry both within you. That's not a curse. That's a gift."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that I was broken, that I didn't feel like a gift.

But something in her words stuck.

A gift.

"What if I mess up again?" I asked. "What if I hurt someone else?"

"You will mess up," she said. "You will make mistakes. That's what it means to be alive. But you will also learn. You will grow. And you will become the man you were always meant to be."

I didn't say anything. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting her words settle into me.

And then I thought about Rafael.

I thought about the way he had looked at me. The hatred. The pain. The betrayal.

I thought about everything I had done to him.

"I need to talk about Rafael," I said.

I opened my mouth to continue.

And then the pain hit.

It was sharp. Sudden. Like something had stabbed me directly in the chest. I gasped, my hand flying to my heart. My body convulsed. I fell off the couch, landing on the floor hard.

"Mathias!" Elara was at my side in an instant. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't breathe. The pain was overwhelming. It was like something inside me was being ripped apart. Like a part of my soul was being torn away.

And then I felt it.

The bond.

The bond I had never really understood. The bond between a son and his mother.

It was breaking.

No.

I felt the connection sever and the piece of me that had always been tied to her went silent.

No. No. No.

I knew what it meant. I knew what it could only mean.

My mother was dead.

The scream that tore out of me wasn't human. It wasn't animal. It was something else. Something broken. Something that had lost everything.

"Mom," I choked out. "Mom, no. No, please, no—"