Chapter 64 Forest

Chapter 64 Forest
The night stretched out quietly.

I didn't sleep. I lay rigid under the scratchy wool blankets, my body acting as a human radiator for the man who had broken his back to save my sister.

Vesper’s skin, initially corpse-cold against mine, slowly began to steal my heat. His shivering subsided into occasional, violent tremors that wracked his entire frame, drawing low groans of pain from deep in his chest even while unconscious.

Every time he hitched a breath, my own broken shoulder throbbed in sympathy. But the physical pain was a distraction, almost welcome, compared to the poisonous thoughts swirling in the dark.

My father's voice looped in my head, perfectly timed with the crackle of the dying fire.

Hera is your mother.

I stared into the gloom of the cabin ceiling, feeling the weight of Vesper’s arm slung heavily over my waist. I thought about the Troll in the sewer, exploding backward. I thought of the way I’d held a gun on Markov, the cold thrill of absolute power when I paralyzed my father’s arm.

Was that me? Or was that Her waking up inside me?

I had spent my life terrifyingly ordinary, the disappointing, soft daughter of a hard man. Now I knew why I never fit into his world.

A tear leaked out of the corner of my eye, hot against my cold skin. I hated it. I hated that my blood was poisoned. I hated that the only reason I was strong enough to fight back was because of the monster who wanted to wear my skin.

Vesper stirred beside me. His breathing hitched, then settled into a deeper rhythm. His eyes peeled open slits in the darkness, glinting faintly.

"Your mind..." he rasped, his voice barely audible, rough as sandpaper. "It's shouting."

"Sorry," I whispered, sniffing. I tried to pull back slightly, to give him space, but his arm tightened around my waist, holding me fast against his warming side.

"Don't go," he mumbled. He shifted his head, pressing his nose against the side of my neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell like smoke. And fear. And... something else I can't decipher."

"It's the wall Estava taught me," I said. "I'm trying to keep it up."

"Good," he murmured, drifting back toward the blackness of exhausted sleep. "Build it high, Princess. Don't let the bastards in."

He fell asleep again before I could ask him if I was one of the bastards.

Morning arrived with a gloomy cloud, light filtering through the dirty windows of the cabin to reveal dust motes dancing in the cold air.

Estava was up first, prodding the embers of the fire back to life. I carefully extricated myself from under the blankets. Vesper was still deeply asleep, his face pale beneath the bruises, but his skin was no longer deathly cold.

I shivered as the cabin air hit my bare legs, quickly pulling on my stiff, dirty jeans and the oversized canvas jacket over my tank top and sling.

My first thought, now that the immediate crisis of Vesper’s temperature was managed, was Sylvia.

She was awake. She was sitting on the crate where I’d left her, knees pulled to her chest, wrapped in a blanket that swallowed her small frame. Aleera was asleep on the floor next to her, head pillowed on her own arm.

She was staring into the flames, her eyes wide and unblinking, dark circles bruising the pale skin beneath them. She looked like a porcelain doll that had been dropped and glued back together wrong.

"Lil-bit?" I whispered, kneeling beside the crate.

She flinched slowly, turning her head to look at me. It took her a moment to register who I was. I'm sure I looked like a far cry from the sister who used to braid her hair before school.

"Is he dead?" she asked flatly, jerking her chin toward the cot where Vesper lay motionless.

"No. He's sleeping. He got hurt getting us out."

"He jumped," Sylvia said, her voice devoid of inflection. "We fell. And then... there was purple light. It felt like jelly." She looked me right in the eye. "You did that."

My stomach twisted. I wanted to lie to her. I wanted to tell her it was a trick of the light, a hallucination from the fear. I wanted to protect her from the reality of what I was.

But she had spent three days in a steel box because of lies. I couldn't give her more.

"Yes," I said quietly. "I did that."

"Are you a witch, Sylvie? Like in the stories?"

"I don't know what I am, Sylvia," I admitted, reaching out with my good hand to tuck a strand of matted hair behind her ear. She let me touch her, but she remained rigid. "But whatever this power is... I'm going to use it to make sure no one ever puts you in a box again. Do you believe me?"

She studied me for a long, agonizing moment with eyes that looked far too old for her face.

"Enzo said you were the bad guy now," she whispered.

"Enzo wanted my dad's job," I said bitterly.

"Your... dad looked scared," Lily said softly, returning her gaze to the fire. "When the big man—Vesper—when he grabbed him. He looked little."

That was the crux of it. Their entire world view—my dad as the ultimate authority—had been shattered in ten minutes of violence.

"Vesper is... very strong," I said carefully.

"He held me tight when we fell," Sylvia murmured. "He didn't let go."

"No. He didn't."

She leaned her head slowly against my good shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a massive victory. I wrapped my arm around her, holding her close as the cabin slowly warmed up.

By mid-morning, the reality of our situation set in. We had no food, very little water, and a critically injured Alpha.

Julian returned from a scouting perimeter, looking spooked by the sheer density of the ancient forest. "It's thick out there. No trails, no signs of life. If anyone is tracking us, they’re doing it the hard way."

Estava sat by the fire, nursing a cup of hot water, looking ancient and grim.

"We have three days until the moon reaches its peak," she announced. "Hera won't move until the last night. She needs the lunar energy to complete the possession ritual. That buys us time, but not much."

"Time to run?" Julian asked hopefully.

Estava shook her head. "No more running. Vesper can't be moved again for at least forty-eight hours without risking permanent paralysis. We make our stand here."

The weight of that statement settled over us. This ramshackle cabin in the middle of nowhere was going to be a battlefield.

"This land is old," Estava continued, tapping her staff on the dirt floor. "The ley lines here are chaotic, primal. I can use them to weave defenses that will make the wards in the city look like cobwebs. We will force Hera to fight for every inch of ground to get to this cabin."

She turned her black, bird-like eyes to me.

"But wards are just walls, Sylvania. They buy time. They don't win wars. When she breaks through—and she will break through—you are the only thing standing between her and Vesper."

She stood up, the firelight casting long, dancing shadows that made her look like a vengeful spirit.

"You spent last night warming your mate with the energy your mother gave you. You know what it feels like now. You know it’s part of you."

I swallowed hard, the shame burning in my chest again. "I don't want it to be."

"Tough shit," Estava snapped. "It is. And if you don't master it in three days, it will master you on the fourth night. Vesper did his part. He broke his back to get you here. Now it's your turn to carry the weight."

She pointed a gnarled finger at the cabin door.

"Go outside. Find a clearing. We begin now. And this time, Sylvania, you don't hold back. If you want to save that little girl"—she gestured to Sylvia, who was watching us with wide eyes—"you need to stop being afraid of being a monster, and start learning how to be a better one than your mother."