Chapter 116 Blood and Restoration
Wynter‘s POV
I pulled out Anne's handkerchief, holding it up so the fading light caught the clumsy embroidery. "This belonged to a girl named Anne. She made it when she was seven years old, gave it to her governess as a gift. She was kind then. Innocent. Before her father broke her."
Morvanna's eyes narrowed, but she didn't close the door.
"Anne grew up in Bloodrock," I continued, my voice gaining strength as I found the thread of the narrative. "Raised to be a weapon, a tool for her father's ambitions. She was taught to be cruel, and that power was the only thing that mattered."
I took a breath, feeling Chase's support through the Bond, feeling Jax's steady presence at my back.
"But somewhere inside her, that seven-year-old girl survived. And when she saw children being hurt—Rogue children who had nothing, who'd been stolen from their families and turned into weapons—that little girl woke up. She chose to betray everything she'd been taught. She chose to save a stranger's sister. She chose to steal evidence that would destroy her own father."
I held up the burned ledger with my other hand. "And when we were escaping with this—with proof of all her father's crimes—she had a choice. She could have run. She could have saved herself. But she chose to make sure we got away with the truth. She chose to sacrifice herself so that her story—so that all of our stories—could be told."
Morvanna was silent, her eyes moving between the handkerchief and the ledger. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer. "And this evidence. It was damaged in your escape?"
"Shot with an incendiary round," Chase said. "We have fragments, but not enough to prove what Draven's done. Not enough to save the children he's still holding. Not enough to justify rescuing Anne before he breaks her completely."
"Anne," Morvanna repeated, and something flickered across her ancient face—recognition, maybe, or memory. "The girl who made this." She touched the handkerchief gently, and I saw her eyes glaze slightly, as if she was seeing something we couldn't. "I can feel her in the fabric. Her innocence. Her hope. And underneath... yes. I can feel the moment she changed. The moment she chose courage over comfort."
She looked at me directly. "You're right. This is a story worth preserving. But restoration magic of this magnitude comes with a price."
"Name it," I said immediately.
"Blood," she said simply. "From each of you. Not much—just enough to bind your intentions to the spell. You—" she pointed at Chase, "—will promise to use this evidence for justice, not revenge. You—" her finger moved to Jax, "—will promise to remember all the victims, not just the ones you knew personally. And you—" she fixed me with those storm-cloud eyes, "—will promise to tell Anne's true story. Not the villain the world sees, but the girl who found her courage."
"We promise," I said, and felt Chase and Jax echo me.
"Then come inside. We have work to do."
Morvanna's cottage was larger on the inside than it had any right to be—a single room that seemed to stretch into infinity, walls lined with books and scrolls and artifacts that hummed with old magic. The air smelled of herbs and ink and something else, something that made my wolf pace nervously.
"Place the ledger here," Morvanna instructed, gesturing to a circular table carved with more of those ancient runes. "And give me your hands."
She produced a small silver knife that looked older than the marsh itself. With practiced efficiency, she pricked each of our fingers, letting three drops of blood fall onto the ruined ledger.
The blood didn't pool or spread. Instead, it sank into the burned pages like water into sand, and the ledger began to glow with a soft red light.
Morvanna began to chant in a language I didn't recognize, her hands moving in complex patterns over the book. The air grew thick with magic, making it hard to breathe, and through the Bond I felt Chase's wolf rising in response to the power filling the room.
The ledger's pages began to shift and writhe, the burned sections slowly—painfully slowly—beginning to regenerate. I watched in awe as blackened fragments filled in with text, as charred edges smoothed and healed, as Owen's careful handwriting emerged from the damage like a message from the dead.
"It's working," Jax breathed.
But Morvanna's face was tight with concentration, sweat beading on her forehead. "This damage... it's more extensive than I thought. The incendiary round was laced with magic specifically designed to destroy evidence. Whoever made it knew what they were doing."
"Can you fix it?" I asked, my heart clenching with fear.
"Yes," she said, but the word came out strained. "But it will take everything I have. Don't interrupt. Don't break the circle. And whatever you do, don't touch the ledger until I say it's safe."
She returned to her chanting, her voice growing louder, more insistent. The red glow intensified until I had to look away, until the light was so bright it painted the walls crimson.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time felt strange in that space, stretched and compressed by the magic working through it.
Finally, just when I thought I couldn't bear the tension anymore, Morvanna's chanting stopped. The red glow faded, leaving us blinking in the sudden dimness.
"It's done," she said, her voice hoarse with exhaustion.
I looked at the ledger. It lay on the table, completely restored—no charred edges, no missing pages, no damage at all. Owen's handwriting was clear and precise, every entry legible, every piece of evidence intact.
"It's perfect," Chase said, wonder in his voice. "How did you—"
"I told you. Blood magic. Your intentions, your promises—they gave me the power to restore not just the physical book, but the truth it contains." Morvanna sagged against the table, looking suddenly older. "But hear me now. This restoration is permanent. The pages cannot be damaged by normal means anymore. But—" her eyes fixed on me, "—if someone tries to destroy it with magic again, if they use the same type of spell that damaged it before, it will be obliterated completely. No second chances."
She pulled a small amulet from around her neck—a crystal wrapped in silver wire. "Take this. It's a one-time shield. If someone tries to hit the ledger with a destruction spell, this will absorb it. But only once. After that, you're on your own."
I took the amulet with shaking hands, feeling the power thrumming through it. "Thank you. We can never repay—"
"You already have," Morvanna interrupted, her eyes softening slightly. "You gave me a story worth preserving. That's payment enough." She looked at the handkerchief, still lying on the table beside the ledger. "Take this too. Return it to Anne when you rescue her. Tell her that her seven-year-old self would be proud of who she became."
I carefully folded the silk and tucked it into my pocket, next to my heart.
"Now go," Morvanna said, gesturing toward the door. "You have what you came for. Use it wisely."
We left the cottage as the sun was setting, painting the marsh in shades of gold and red. The ledger rested in my pack, whole and perfect, and for the first time since Anne's capture, I felt something like hope.
"We did it," Jax said, disbelief in his voice. "We actually did it."
"Now we just have to get it to Lord Aldric and Lord Julian," Chase said. "And pray they'll listen."
Through the Bond, I felt his determination mixing with mine, and I knew—whatever came next, we would face it together.
We were halfway back to the marsh's edge when I felt it—a prickling at the back of my neck, my wolf's instincts screaming danger.
"We're being followed," I said quietly.
Chase's hand went to his knife immediately, his eyes scanning the darkening marsh. "How many?"
"I don't know. But they're good. I can barely sense them."