Chapter 99 99
LOIS
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I’m bound, the ropes biting into my wrists, my ankles, tightening until my hands tremble. The air is thick, sweet, as if someone burned something alive and let it drift. There are so many of them now—twenty figures moving around me, their tunics flowing, white, gray, like shadows that don’t touch the ground. Their voices hum, a murmur I don’t understand, and the pain cuts through me, constant, crawling up my skin.
“Hold her,” one says, her voice dry, and a rope tightens further on my arm.
I feel the prick before I see it—a thin dagger slicing my forearm, slow, deep. The blood flows, hot, dripping into a glass vial another one holds. Her hair is red, bright, falling in loose strands, and her gray eyes don’t blink. Another, with hair white as bone, pierces my leg with a needle, and the blood falls into a bowl, mixing with something black, thick, that smells of metal and rot. I can’t move. I want to, but my body won’t answer.
“More,” says one with a deep voice, brown hair braided, and she cuts my wrist with a firm stroke.
I groan, my throat dry, but I don’t let the sound escape. I won’t give them that. My blood keeps falling, little by little, and they collect it, their hands moving between vials and bowls, pouring, mixing. One pours something green, shimmering, that sparks when it touches the red, and the air trembles, a buzz climbing up my spine. They speak to each other, their words slicing me like the edge of their daggers.
“With this, the fae won’t resist,” one says, her violet eyes glowing in the dim light. “Their power is perfect.”
“Yes,” another answers, short black hair, holding a full vial. “The borders will fall soon.”
Fae? My head spins, the pain clouding everything. I don’t know what they are, I don’t know what they’re talking about. I only know my blood serves them, that they want it, that they need it. And that I can’t let them have it all. I don’t want to die here, not like this. I think of them—the twins, their strong faces, their eyes searching for me. I didn’t call them. I couldn’t. If these witches want something with wolves, if my blood brings them here, I won’t put them in danger. Not again.
I think of him, the one running toward me. I called him in my mind when the pain began, when they tied me. I didn’t want to worry him, but it was stronger than me. I feel him now, close, moving fast. My chest trembles, and I clench my teeth, holding on. I have to last until he arrives.
“Increase the flow,” says the redhead, and a needle pierces my neck.
The blood comes faster, and my vision darkens, a black edge growing in my eyes. My body shakes, cold, and they keep going—twenty figures in a circle, their tunics floating as if time doesn’t touch them. The place is strange: tall silver trees rising, golden leaves falling slowly, and the ground etched with lines that glow, red, alive. I don’t understand what this is, but I know it isn’t normal.
“What resistance,” says the white-haired one, her voice soft, almost surprised, as she mixes my blood with something gray that smells of ash.
“She won’t last,” answers the violet-eyed one, cutting my shoulder with a curved dagger.
My breath catches, but I don’t scream. I won’t give them anything. My blood drips, filling another vial, and they sing, their voices rising, a sound that weighs on my head. My body is weak, my hands tremble, and the pain is a pulse that doesn’t stop, climbing through my arms, my legs, my neck. I think of him again, running, closer. I have to hold on.
I know he’ll come.
“The fae will pay,” says the brown-haired one, pouring my blood into a large bowl. “This is only the beginning.”
“Soon,” answers another with black hair, and her hands glow as she touches the vial.
I don’t know what they want, but it doesn’t matter. My mind screams, my body fades, and I think of him—strong, desperate. He’s close, I feel it, his warmth touching me like an echo. I’m not giving up. My blood keeps flowing, my vision slips, but I squeeze my eyes shut, resisting. I have to hold on.
(…)
AIDAN
I cross the last stretch of forest, my breath cutting short, sweat gluing the shirt to my skin. I’ve passed through so many packs, dodging fangs, leaping between trees to save time. Thorne’s wolves nearly caught me, their growls still echoing in my head, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Lois needs me, and every step brings me closer, my body moving faster than I can comprehend. I reach the edge, and the world changes.
The forest opens, and the air grows heavy, sweet, as if someone poured honey over the earth. The trees are tall—taller than normal—with silver trunks that glow from within, and golden leaves fall slowly, floating without touching the ground. Everything is still, too still. No wind, no birds, only a silence that presses on my shoulders.
It’s the first time I’ve been here, the first time I’ve seen this place, and my skin prickles, a chill crawling up my back.
I walk, my steps silent against the soft earth, and look around. I don’t know what this is. It doesn’t smell like wolves, doesn’t smell like vampires. It smells like something old, something that doesn’t belong. My collar vibrates, cold against my neck, but it doesn’t calm me. Something is wrong. Then I see her.
A figure appears between the trees—tall, slender, her white tunic floating though there’s no breeze. Her hair is black, long, falling in waves like a river of ink, and she turns toward me. Her green eyes find mine, bright, deep, and my stomach drops. She can’t be trusted. I know it. I don’t know how, but I know. Her lips curve, a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and my body tenses.
“You’ve come far,” she says, her voice soft, cutting, like a knife wrapped in silk.
I don’t think. I move—fast—my hand reaching her throat before she can blink. My fingers close, hard, and I twist; a dry crack fills the air. Her head flops loose, eyes open, empty, and her body collapses to the ground. It was instinct, pure, effortless, like snapping a dry branch. I stand still, staring at her, my breath ragged. She’s dead. Or she should be.
Then she moves. Her body jerks, a spasm that makes no sense, and her skin changes—wrinkling, darkening, as if something sucks her from the inside. She’s no longer beautiful, no longer young. She’s an old woman, skin hanging in black folds, eyes sunken in empty sockets, yellow teeth showing in a twisted mouth. My throat closes, a shiver racing down my spine. What is this?
“You!” she shrieks, her voice raspy, broken, and she rises—fast, too fast.
I run after her, legs exploding into speed. She’s a white blur among the trees, feet barely touching the ground, but I’m faster. I catch her, my hand seizing her bony arm, and I yank, hard. She spins, black nails raking my face, but I don’t feel the pain. My other hand finds her neck, and I squeeze, lifting her off the ground. Her legs kick, her body twisting, and I twist again, ripping her head free with a sharp pull. Black, thick blood sprays, splashing my hands, and her body falls, twitching, fingers clawing the earth as if still alive.
I stand frozen, chest heaving fast, the air cutting my lungs. Her head lies at my feet, eyes open, staring at me, and the body keeps trembling, fingers digging into the soil. I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what creature can move without a head, with rotting skin and empty eyes. But I know it’s dangerous. And I know they have Lois.
“Damn it,” I whisper, my voice dry, and I look at my hands, black with her blood.
The forest is silent, silver trees glowing, golden leaves falling slowly, as if nothing happened. But the smell is there—rotten, sweet—climbing up my nose. My skin trembles, a cold I can’t control, and I look around. There are more. I know it. I don’t see them, but I feel it—a weight in the air, eyes I can’t find. My head spins, the silence cutting like a knife.
I take a step, and the ground cracks, a sound that shouldn’t be there. I crouch, fingers brushing the earth, and I see lines—etched, glowing faintly, red, alive. I don’t know what they are, but they freeze my blood. This place isn’t normal. It isn’t a forest. It’s something else—something that watches me, that waits for me. And Lois is here, trapped by them, by these things.
“I have to find her,” I say, low, my voice shaking even though I don’t want it to.
I stand, fists clenching, and run, my steps slicing the silence. The trees close in, branches crossing above me, and the air grows heavier, sweeter, as if swallowing me. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what’s coming, but I know she’s close. Her pain reaches me—an echo I don’t hear but feel—and my chest tightens, hard, cold. I’m not leaving her with them. I’m not letting those things touch her anymore.
Something moves to my left—a whisper of fabric—and I stop, head snapping around. Nothing. Just trees, golden leaves, silence. But it’s there. I know it. My skin prickles, a chill crawling up my neck, and I glance back at the old woman’s body, still twitching in the distance, fingers scraping the earth. She isn’t dead. I don’t know if she can die. And there are more—hidden, waiting.
I run again, heart pounding hard, the forest closing like a cage. I have to reach her. Before they find me.
“Lois! I’m here.”