Easton

Easton

The amount of magic swirling around is enough to make my skin crawl. It’s a sensation that takes me right back to that cursed time in the forest. I’d shifted for a nap, only to wake up infested with mites, the kind that some twisted mage had created to be immune to fire. The memory of those things burrowing under my feathers, gnawing away at my sanity, feels like it’s happening all over again. Only this time, the magic is the culprit, slithering over me like invisible bugs. The creepy, crawling feeling spreads from my spine to the tips of my fingers, setting every nerve on edge. It’s unbearable, and I can barely stand it.

Then there’s Feray. Lately she’s been my rock, unshakeable even in the worst storms. But tonight, she’s wound tighter than a spring. I can feel the tension radiating off her, making me want to ignite right here and burn away everything that’s causing her distress. Every instinct screams at me to scoop her up and take off as fast as my wings can carry us. But I can’t. My shift isn’t large enough to bear her weight in flight, and that uselessness grates on me, sharp as a knife.

Latin chanting drifts through the air, but something’s off with the rhythm. Instead of soothing, it grates on my nerves, an irritating hum that only adds to the tension. My attention keeps snapping back to that altar, an unsettling beacon shrouded in mystery. I must know its contents to assess the level of danger, but I can only gather fragments from others. The conversation keeps circling around Fi, but my gut tells me this goes way beyond her. There’s something darker lurking here, something waiting to strike. And that knowledge gnaws at me like those cursed mites, a relentless itch that I can’t scratch.

The darkness creeps in, swallowing the last slivers of daylight as the chanting rises around us. Feray keeps herself between Tiernan and Khal, her form hovering between human and wolf, every muscle tense, her eyes darting to every sound, every shadow. The twins haven’t shifted yet, but their rigid stances scream readiness. One wrong move, one signal from Feray, and they’ll unleash hell. The air thickens with foreboding, and my skin crawls with the weight of the magic in the air, the kind that sticks to your bones and refuses to let go. This ritual isn’t just a performance; it’s something darker, something twisted.

At the height of the chanting, my stomach churns as one of the hooded figures steps forward with an ornate box, its design too intricate, too old, to be anything but trouble. My gut twists—nothing good ever comes from a box like that. Tiernan’s eyes narrow, a predator ready to pounce, but he holds back, waiting for the right moment. I see Dezi’s focus sharpen, and I know they’re both weighing the risks, calculating the odds.

Three others step forward, their movements deliberate, almost ritualistic, as they remove the first figure’s hood and cloak. The air chills further as they strip him down to his boxers, exposing him to the cold and whatever twisted purpose they have in mind. The chanting reaches a fever pitch, the sky overhead swirling with unnatural energy. Every instinct in me screams to move, to stop this before it’s too late, but I stay rooted, knowing that the slightest misstep could bring disaster upon us all. The tension is unbearable, the dread palpable. Whatever comes next, it’s going to change everything.

Feray’s golden eyes flick back to me, confusion written across her face, the bond between us crackling with tension. “What are we seeing?” Her voice echoes in my mind, laced with an undercurrent of wariness. I don’t have an answer, not one that makes any sense.

There’s only this gnawing unease in my gut, a primal instinct screaming that whatever’s happening, it’s nothing good. “Not sure,” I respond, trying to keep my voice steady even as my senses bristle. “But it can’t be good. Be ready to run if needed.” The words are bitter in my mouth, a taste of things spiraling out of control.

I lean closer to Torben, the cold air between us thick with unspoken dread. “Feray’s wondering what the hell we’re looking at,” I murmur, keeping my voice low. He nods, but his expression is grim, a mirror of the fear crawling up my spine. His eyes, usually so steady, are clouded with the same dread curling through me.

The acolyte’s hands tremble slightly as they reach into the ornate box, pulling out a clay jar and a blue jewel that catches the fading light. They paint something dark and sticky on the jewel’s back, then place it over his heart. A pulse. Then another. The jewel throbs in sync with his heartbeat, its glow intensifying with every beat, as if it’s feeding off his very life.

The jar’s lid creaks as it’s removed, the sound sharp in the heavy silence. A brush is dipped inside, emerging, coated in a substance so dark it seems to swallow the surrounding light. Blood. Old blood. The acolyte’s hand moves with a dreadful precision, painting symbols onto the man’s bare flesh, each stroke deliberate, each line filled with dark intent.

I glance over at Dezi, trying to keep the rising panic from showing on my face. “Is it what I think it is?” I tap my nose, silently praying I’m mistaken, but knowing deep down that I’m not.

Dezi’s breath hitches as he inhales deeply, his gaze sharpening with recognition. He turns to me, his voice a low, resonant murmur that sends shivers down my spine. “It is,” he confirms, the weight of his words pressing down on us like a storm about to break. “Old blood, mixed with herbs.” There’s a finality to his tone that clenches around my heart. Whatever ritual this is, it’s ancient, dark, and far beyond anything we should be meddling with.

As the surrounding chanting grows louder, the tension in the air becomes suffocating, the shadows deepening as if the night itself is closing in on us. The man on the altar shudders as the blood and herbs seep into his skin, the blue jewel pulsing brighter, faster. My instincts scream at me to grab Feray and run, but my feet are rooted to the spot, dread freezing me in place. This is bad. Worse than I thought. And whatever is coming next, it’s going to change everything.

My eyebrows shoot up as Feray and Tiernan whip their heads around, their eyes locking onto Dezi. Feray’s tail thrashes violently, her body tense with anticipation before she shifts fully into her wolf form. I can almost hear the crack of bones rearranging, her fur bristling as she prepares for whatever nightmare is about to descend on us. On four legs, she’s more agile, more lethal—ready to fight or flee if needed.

The chanting grows louder, more urgent, each word hammering into my skull. The crawling sensation under my skin intensifies, like invisible insects scurrying across my flesh. My instincts scream at me that this isn’t right, that something dark and twisted is about to happen. I glance at Rev, Diaval, Dezi, and Fi—they’re all struggling, their faces tight with discomfort as the surrounding air grows thick with malevolent energy.

Then, the jewel on the man’s chest flickers, its glow faint at first, barely noticeable against the dim light. But it doesn’t stay faint for long. The light swells, pulsating with an eerie rhythm that matches the frantic beat of my heart, until it’s bright enough to burn into my retinas. The man’s limbs jerk and tighten, pulling inward as if some unseen force is crushing him. His body curls into a fetal position, and a chill races down my spine. This isn’t just wrong—it’s deadly.

A sense of impending doom weighs heavily in the air, thick enough to choke on. My muscles tense, every fiber of my being on high alert as I brace for whatever horror this ritual is about to unleash.

The chanting shifts, its tone twisting into something more frantic, more intense, until it reaches a fever pitch that reverberates in my chest. The cocooned man, bathed in that eerie glow, rises, levitating toward the altar. My eyes strain to see what’s on it, but the acolytes block my view. Their hands are raised, their voices blending into one dreadful note that thickens the surrounding air. The magic here is suffocating, pressing down on us, crawling beneath my skin like a thousand unseen insects. Every instinct screams at me to grab Feray and run, but I can’t. I won’t. I force myself to stay grounded, even as that suffocating pressure deepens.

Then, something new, something different, occurs. A tingle claws at my insides, familiar yet disturbingly foreign. It’s like the pull that dragged us here, a tether from another world trying to tear me apart from the inside out. I grit my teeth, fighting it, desperate to stay where I am. I need to see what’s being created; what horror is about to be unleashed. But then, one by one, my nest mates vanish before my eyes. No sound, no struggle—they’re just…gone. As if they were never there.

My heart pounds in my chest, panic tightening its grip around me like a vise. I scan the empty space, my breath catching, until I lock eyes with Feray. Her face is stricken, her wolfish form forced back into her human body, her head snapping toward me. Horror widens her eyes as she reaches out, but before I can move, before I can do anything, she’s gone, too. Pulled away by that same invisible force.

The world shifts violently beneath my feet, and before I can react, I’m yanked through the very fabric of existence. It’s as if I’m on the edge of a rollercoaster, that brief second before the plunge—my stomach twists, my heart misses a beat, and I’m tumbling through an endless void. Everything is disorienting, sickening, like the world is folding in on itself.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, it’s over. My vision clears, the darkness pulls back, and I stand where I was before, in the ice cavern. The cold bites at my skin, the silence around us feels heavier, like the air itself remembers what just happened. I know it happened—I feel it in my bones.

Feray stands at the fork in the tunnel, staring down the left path, her expression distant, as if lost in thought. It’s the same way she stood before we turned down the tunnel and vanished. However, there is something amiss when she effortlessly turns away and walks towards the right path. This time, she doesn’t glance at the left tunnel at all. It’s as if the nightmare we just lived through has been completely erased from her memory.

I take a breath, trying to steady myself, but my mind’s spinning like I’ve been tossed into a storm. Diaval’s hand lands on my shoulder, grounding me, pulling me back from the edge of panic. “Sometimes non-mythics don’t remember magical events,” he says, his voice resonating through the mythic bond we share, calm and sure. “It’s their animal’s way of protecting their human side. The beast will remember, but the human side. Most times, it won’t.”

I nod, but the gesture feels hollow, automatic. My thoughts are tangled in the chaos we just escaped, barely able to process his words. The memory of that unsettling ritual, the eerie glow, and the unnatural energy clings to me like a shadow. “What do you think that was?” I ask. I force the question through the murk of my thoughts, speaking mind to mind as we walk through the tunnel toward Dunnam. The walls seem to close in, amplifying the silence between us.

Diaval’s response comes slow and careful, like he’s weighing each word before letting it out. “I have my suspicions. It’s too early to voice them. Yet… I have to wonder if part of that was a warning of something to come?”

His words hang in the air, heavy and cryptic, like a storm cloud that refuses to break. I’ve learned not to press him when he speaks in riddles—it usually means he’s wrestling with his dragon over some truth too dark or too dangerous to fully reveal. But the unease sticks to me, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. A warning? If it was a warning, then what’s coming must be far worse than anything before.

The tunnel seems to stretch on endlessly, the darkness ahead swallowing the light behind us. My heart pounds in time with our footsteps, the echo of each step a reminder that we’re not out of danger yet. Fear claws at me, refusing to let go. I grip the edge of my jacket tighter, as if it could somehow shield me from whatever horror lies ahead.

Join Feray and her men on the next step in their journey