Chapter 65 65

Chapter 65 65
Garrick's POV

I watched her hair disappear first.

Dark strands whip behind her like a battle flag as she tears into the forest.

I sigh.

“Great, Garrick,” I mutter to myself. “The first girl you ever propose to, sprints into the wilderness.”

Not even a dramatic pause.

Not even a “let me think about it.”

Just pure, unfiltered flight response.

I don’t chase immediately. I’ve learned that chasing Ravena, Eve, whatever name she’s using in the current emotional spiral, only makes her run faster.

Instead, I rub a hand over my jaw and look up at the sky like maybe the gods want to explain why this is my life now.

Rygar gets obedience.

I get chaos in human form.

Or is this what my brother has to go through for seven moons with her?

“Ravena!” I call after her, pitching my voice to carry but not threaten.

No answer.

Just branches snapping. Leaves scattering. The distinct sound of someone who has absolutely no survival strategy beyond panic.

I close my eyes briefly.

Fine.

If Ravena doesn’t work…

“Eve Jones!”

“Stay away from me!” Her voice bounces back through the trees, furious and breathless.

There it is.

The full government name clearly did not calm her.

I start walking after her, unhurried. Long strides. No rush. She’s fast for someone running on adrenaline and indignation, but I’m not concerned.

With the sound of her voice, I found her at the edge of the world.

I can track a wounded stag across stone.

She forgets I can hear her heartbeat from here.

“I’m not chasing you,” I call lightly. “Technically, you’re just running in a circle.”

That earns me nothing but more crashing foliage.

I shake my head.

“You do realize,” I continue conversationally, stepping over a fallen branch, “this forest is not a friendly place to have an emotional outburst.”

No reply.

Just more frantic movement.

I pick up the pace slightly, not sprinting, just lengthening my stride. Enough to keep her within range.

The deeper she goes, the quieter it becomes.

That was the first sign.

Birds didn't scatter.

Insects didn't buzz.

The air tightens.

I feel it shift along my skin.

And suddenly my humor thins.

“Ravena,” I call again, this time sharper. “Slow down!”

“I said stay away from me!” she yells back, her voice cracking slightly.

I exhale through my nose.

“I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

She doesn’t hear that part.

Or maybe she does and chooses to ignore it.

Typical.

I vault over a low rock and land smoothly, following the path she’s cutting through undergrowth like a very determined storm.

For someone who claims she doesn’t belong here, she is remarkably talented at attracting danger.

“Eve,” I try again, more serious now. “Stop running.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then…

A scream torn straight from her lungs.

There we go.

I draw my swords as I run.

Steel sings as it leaves the sheath, the sound clean and familiar in my hands. Whatever this is, it picked the wrong day to interrupt my already complicated courtship attempt.

I follow the direction of her voice, slicing through brush and shadow, every sense sharpened now.

The forest has gone dead quiet, but her screaming doesn't stop.

That’s good.

As long as she’s screaming, she’s breathing.

I break into a clearing…

And stop.

It was empty.

No Ravena.

No creature.

Just disturbed the earth and snapped branches.

I scan fast. Left. Right. Ground.

Nothing.

“Ravena?” I call, stepping forward cautiously.

No answer.

Wait. I stopped

There’s a faint, frantic sound.

Muffled.

Above me.

I look up.

And there she is.

Strung up high in a tree like some shrine decoration.

Upside down.

Hair hanging toward the ground, tangled and wild. Ankles bound tight in something dark and sinewy that pulses faintly like it’s alive. Her wrists are tied too, pinned awkwardly against her torso.

Her mouth is sealed.

Some kind of slick, shadowy film stretched over her lips.

She’s making furious sounds behind it, eyes wide, face flushed with panic.

I blink once.

“Well,” I say dryly, craning my neck. “This is new.”

She thrashes slightly, making louder muffled noises.

“I’m sorry,” I call up to her. “I cannot hear you through the… whatever that is.”

She glares at me.

If looks could kill, I’d already be bleeding out under this tree.

She shakes her head violently and starts jerking her chin downward.

Then to the side.

Then down again.

I squint.

“What?”

She widens her eyes.

Moves her chin sharply over my shoulder.

Ah. That kind of signal can only mean one thing. There's something behind me.

Slowly, very slowly, I turn.

And.. bugger.

An Endophine.

And not the scrawny, half-formed kind that lurks near marshlands and feeds on scraps.

No.

This one is fully grown.

Towering over me like a living piece of rock.

Its body is all warped muscle and stretched grey flesh, looking too tight over bone. One elongated arm drags slightly along the ground, tipped with hooked claws. The other hangs twisted at an unnatural angle but somehow looks stronger.

It grins. Or at least, the split across its lower face widens enough to suggest amusement.

“Well,” I murmur, adjusting my grip on my swords. “Nice to meet you, too.”

It tilts its head.

“You do realize,” I continued, “that hanging my… potential bride upside down is considered poor manners in most circles.”

The Endophine lets out a low, guttural sound that vibrates through the clearing.

Ravena makes another frantic noise above me.

“Yes, I see it,” I say under my breath.

The creature moves first and fast.

Far too fast for something that size.

It lunges.

I pivot, bringing one blade up, but I misjudge the reach.

The elongated arm swings wide and hits me off the clearings.

A tree trunk cracks on impact, bark splintering under the force.

The world blurs.

My swords tumble from my grip as I drop to one knee, vision swimming.

I roll my shoulder once, testing it.

Still attached.

Good.

Across the clearing, the Endophine turns its grotesque head slightly, as if assessing whether I’m finished.

Above it, Ravena is still hanging, still struggling, eyes locked on me in absolute horror.

I spat red into the dirt.

“That,” I mutter hoarsely, pushing myself upright, “was rude.”

The Endophine takes a step toward me. I grabbed my sword and readied myself for a very good dance.