Chapter 42 CHAPTER 42
Rafael's POV
"Welcome," she said, her voice carrying easily through the still air, "to the Thornwood Coven."
Mathias stepped forward slightly, his posture relaxed despite the dozen witches surrounding us. "Elara. Thank you for allowing us entry."
Elara didn't respond immediately. Her expression remained completely neutral—no warmth, no hostility, nothing. Just that unnervingly calm assessment as her purple eyes moved between Mathias and me.
But the witches around her?
They weren't nearly as composed.
I could feel their hostility like a physical weight. Eyes glowing with power—some purple, some green, one a bright silver—all of them fixed on us with open hatred. A few had their hands raised slightly, fingers positioned in what I recognized as spell-casting gestures.
Ready to attack at a moment's notice.
My wolf snarled, pushing against my control. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to shift, to defend myself, to get the hell out of here before this turned into a massacre.
"Easy," Mathias said quietly, not looking at me. He could probably feel my tension through the pack link.
"They look like they want to kill us," I muttered back, keeping my voice low.
"They do. But they won't."
"You sound very confident about that."
"I am."
One of the witches—a woman with dark hair and silver eyes—took a step forward, her hand fully raised now. "Elara, why are we allowing wolves into our territory? They're—"
"Guests," Elara cut her off, her voice sharp despite its softness. "Under my protection. As I made clear to the coven council yesterday."
The silver-eyed witch's jaw clenched. "They're abominations. They don't belong here."
"Your opinion is noted, Sera." Elara's tone didn't change. "And dismissed. Lower your hand."
Sera hesitated, clearly wanting to argue. But after a long moment, she dropped her hand, stepping back into line with the others.
The tension didn't dissipate though. If anything, it got worse.
I could see it in their faces—the barely contained rage, the disgust. Some of them were whispering to each other, too quiet for me to hear but their body language said enough.
They hated us.
Which, to be fair, was completely understandable.
Werewolves and witches had a long, bloody history. Territorial disputes, power struggles, fundamental differences in how we viewed and used magic. There were packs that hunted witches. Covens that cursed entire wolf bloodlines.
The fact that we were standing here, alive and unharmed, was honestly kind of miraculous.
"Rafael," Mathias said quietly. "Breathe."
I realized my hands were clenched into fists, claws starting to extend. I forced myself to relax, pulling my wolf back with effort.
"Nothing is going to happen," Mathias continued, his voice calm and steady. "We're under a protection guarantee. They can't hurt us without serious consequences. Elara wouldn't have invited us here if she planned to kill us."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true." He finally glanced at me. "Trust me. Please."
I wanted to. But trusting Mathias meant trusting these witches, and every survival instinct I had was screaming that this was a mistake.
Still, we'd come this far.
I took a breath, forcing my body to relax. My claws retracted slowly.
Elara watched the entire exchange with those unreadable purple eyes. Then, seemingly satisfied that I wasn't about to attack anyone, she turned.
"Follow me," she said simply.
She started walking deeper into the forest, the other witches parting to let her through.
Mathias moved to follow immediately, clearly comfortable with all of this.
I hesitated, turning back toward where we'd entered.
The barrier was still there, that purple doorway shimmering in the distance. Our way out.
Except it was getting smaller. The energy pulling back together, closing the gap.
"Rafael," Mathias called. "Come on."
The doorway shrank further.
If I didn't move now, we'd be trapped in here with no exit.
I could run. Make it back to the barrier before it closed completely. Get out while I still could.
But that would mean leaving without answers. Without a solution to save Vivienne.
The doorway was barely three feet wide now.
"Rafael!"
I turned away from it and followed Mathias.
Behind me, I heard the soft sound of the barrier closing completely.
No going back now.
\---
The forest was wrong.
That was the only way to describe it.
At first glance, it looked normal—just trees and undergrowth, paths winding through the woods. But the longer I walked, the more I noticed the details that didn't fit.
The trees themselves were massive, way bigger than they should be. Some of the trunks were so wide that it would take five or six people holding hands to circle them. And they glowed—faintly, just at the edges of my vision, a soft luminescence that came from the bark itself.
The air was thick with magic. Not just the presence of it, but actual visible manifestations. Tiny lights floated between the trees like fireflies, except they pulsed in patterns that were too deliberate to be natural. The ground beneath our feet hummed with energy, and I swear I could hear whispers in languages I didn't understand.
Everything here felt alive in a way that normal forests weren't. The trees seemed to watch us as we passed. The shadows moved when they shouldn't. Even the fog, which still clung to everything, felt sentient.
It was beautiful.
And deeply, deeply unsettling.
We walked for maybe ten minutes, following a path that curved between the ancient trees. Elara led the way, her white hair flowing behind her. The other witches had dispersed, melting back into the forest, but I could still feel their presence. Watching. Waiting.
And then I started seeing the homes.
They weren't houses in any traditional sense. They were part of the forest itself.
Some were built into the trees—doorways carved directly into the massive trunks, with windows that glowed with warm light from inside. Others seemed to grow from the trees, organic structures that looked like they'd been shaped rather than built. I saw stairs spiraling up around one enormous oak, leading to what looked like rooms nestled in the branches.
And everywhere, there were witches.
They emerged from their tree-homes as we passed, drawn by the presence of wolves in their territory. Most of them just stood in doorways or on platforms, watching us with hostile eyes.
A few were more vocal.
"Wolves," one hissed as we passed, her hands glowing faintly green. "Filth."
"Ignore them," Mathias said quietly.
I tried. But it was hard to ignore the sheer hatred radiating from every direction.
An old witch—hunched and wrinkled, but with eyes that burned bright yellow—spat at the ground as we walked by. "Abominations. They'll bring ruin to us all."
A younger witch, maybe in her twenties, actually took a step toward us before an older woman grabbed her arm, pulling her back.
"Not worth it," the older woman said, though her glare at us was just as venomous.
I kept my eyes forward, my expression carefully neutral. Showing fear would be weakness. Showing anger would be provocation.
So I just walked, maintaining that calm exterior even as my wolf paced restlessly inside me.
More witches appeared the deeper we went. Some watched from high up in the trees, perched on branches that shouldn't have been able to support their weight. Others stood in small groups, whispering to each other as we passed.
I caught fragments of their conversations:
"—never should have allowed this—"
"—disrespect to our ancestors—"
"—if they try anything, I'll—"
"Charming place," I muttered to Mathias.
"Yeah, they really roll out the welcome mat for visitors."
Despite the tension, I almost smiled at that.
We passed what looked like a central gathering area—a clearing with a massive tree at its center, so huge it made the others look small. The trunk had to be at least fifty feet across, and carved into it were symbols and runes that glowed with that same purple energy as the barrier.
Witches filled the clearing, at least thirty of them. All of them stopped what they were doing to stare at us as we passed.
The silence was deafening.
I could feel their eyes on my back long after we'd left the clearing behind.
"How much further?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
"Not far," Elara said without turning around. "My home is at the heart of the coven. We're almost there."
The heart of the coven. Great.
Even deeper into witch territory, even further from any possible escape route.
This just kept getting better.
The path curved sharply, and suddenly we were in a smaller clearing. At its center stood another massive tree, but this one was different. The trunk split into multiple sections that curved and intertwined, creating what looked like a natural doorway. Purple light spilled from the entrance, brighter than the ambient glow of the other trees.
Elara stopped at the entrance, turning to face us.
"Before you enter my home," she said, her purple eyes locking onto mine, "you need to understand something."
I waited.
"What you're asking for—what you want me to help you with—it's dangerous. Not just for you, but potentially for everyone involved. The kind of magic required to solve your problem doesn't come cheap. And the consequences of failure..." She paused. "Let's just say they would be catastrophic."
"I understand," I said.
"Do you?" She tilted her head slightly. "Because from where I stand, you're a desperate wolf willing to do anything to save himself. Desperation makes people reckless. Makes them agree to things they shouldn't. Makes them overlook warnings they should heed."
"I'm not reckless."
"No?" Her expression remained neutral. "Then why are you here? In the home of your natural enemies, surrounded by witches who would kill you without a second thought if given the chance? That seems fairly reckless to me."
I met her gaze evenly. "Because I don't have another choice. My mate is human. Completing our bond will kill her. And I'm dying without that bond. So either I find a solution, or my wolf dies. Those are my options."
Elara studied me for a long moment.
Then, finally, she nodded.
"Very well," she said, turning toward the entrance. "Come inside. We have much to discuss."
She disappeared through the doorway, purple light swallowing her form.
Mathias and I exchanged a glance.
"Last chance to run," he said.
"You wish."
"Just checking."
We stepped through the doorway together, into Elara's home and whatever answers—or dangers—waited inside.