21. Caine

21

CAINE

The corridor is quiet as I make my way to Violet's room. It's late, or perhaps early, depending on how you look at it. The soft glow of magickal lamps cast long shadows on the stone walls, creating an atmosphere that's both comforting and, under the circumstances, slightly unnerving. My cane taps softly against the floor, the sound echoing in the silence.

I pause outside Violet's door, my hand raised to knock. Hesitation grips me. What if she's asleep? What if she's having another episode? But the need to check on her, to make sure she's okay, overrides my doubts. I've grown protective of her in the short time she's been here, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I want her. I want to possess every fibre of her being. I want her to possess me just as fucking hard back.

I knock softly, but there's no answer. The silence stretches on, and worry begins to gnaw at me. Making a split-second decision, I use my magick to transport myself into the room, materialising in a swirl of frost. The cold air dissipates quickly, leaving behind a faint shimmer in the air.

The sight that greets me makes me raise my eyebrow. Violet and Flint are entwined on the bed, both naked and fast asleep. Flint's arm is draped protectively over Violet's waist, her head tucked under his chin. They look peaceful, content. It's an intimate scene, and I can't seem to tear my eyes away.

This was more than sex. It was comfort, desire, lust, intimacy all rolled into one. This is the core of what Violet is feeling right now. She needs all these things. But the kicker is she is craving them from her fucking arsewipe sire. When I get my hands on him, I will hurt him so fucking bad he will weep for his long-dead mother.

Thoroughly invested in this development, I sink into a nearby chair instead, my eyes fixed on the sleeping pair. I'm not jealous, not by a long shot. Do I wish this is how Violet and I had ended up last night? Obviously. It took everything I had to respect her space and her body. But I know Flint. This wouldn't have happened unless Violet wanted it.

Flint stirs, his eyes snapping open. He tenses as he notices me, then carefully extricates himself from Violet, who mumbles softly but doesn't wake. His movements are gentle, careful not to disturb her.

"Caine," he whispers, reaching for his clothes. "What are you doing here? "

I stand, my voice low. "Thorne needs us. We have to gather some ingredients from the forest."

Flint nods, pulling on his pants. "Give me a minute."

As he dresses, Violet shifts in her sleep, her arm reaching out to the now-empty space beside her. Her eyes open slowly, confusion clouding her features as she takes in the scene. The sight of her, vulnerable and sleep-tousled, naked with curves that make my mouth water, is a bit more than my restraint can take. I go to her, crouching next to the bed. I reach out and flick her nipple gently, eliciting a small gasp from her.

"What's going on?" she asks, not covering herself which really strains on my willpower.

"We need to go on a mission," I explain gently. "For the ritual."

Violet sits up. "I want to come with you."

Flint and I exchange a glance. "No," we say together.

"You need to stay here where it's safe," Flint adds. "Blackthorne told you not to go to the forest, so you can't. It's too dangerous."

Violet looks like she wants to protest, but a yawn overtakes her. "Fine. Go have your fun without me," she mumbles, settling back into the pillows. "But be careful."

"We will come back to you, snowdrop," I murmur. "Nothing will keep us away."

She takes my hand and kisses it. I take it one step further and lean over to capture her lips in a deep kiss that makes her moan into my mouth.

"You want me, snowdrop," I ask with a wicked smile. "Do you want my cock to slide into your pussy, still warm with Flint's cum?"

"Fuck," she groans and pulls me closer by my shirt. "Why do you have to go again?"

I chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose. "Hold that thought. We will be back and be one step closer to removing you from that bastard's life once and for all."

She nods and lets me go with a soft sigh. I pull the blankets over her and tuck her in, stroking her purple hair as she snuggles back down into slumber, and I move away reluctantly.

Flint places a soft kiss on her forehead before joining me at the door.

We are silent as we make our way out of the building and head towards the Whispering Woods. The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and something wilder, more dangerous.

"What are we hunting for?" Flint asks as we slip past the low-level wards that protect the grounds from outsiders but don't stop us from leaving and head towards the treeline.

I hold up the list, and he scans it quickly. "That's it?"

"Thorne said it wouldn't be easy."

"Nothing in this forest ever is," he mutters, giving the piece of paper back .

We lapse into silence again as we enter the forest. The Whispering Woods lives up to its name, with a constant, barely audible susurration filling the air. It's as if the trees are gossiping, sharing secrets we can't quite hear. The air grows thicker, filled with an otherworldly mist that swirls around us, making it hard to see two feet in front of us.

"Stay close," I mutter unnecessarily.

"Way ahead of you," Flint mutters back.

I hold up the list Thorne gave me. "Right, first up is ‘moonflower petals'. Any idea where we might find those?"

Flint nods, pointing deeper into the woods. "There's a clearing some way away over there. Moonflowers bloom there, but only at night."

"Then we'd better hurry."

We set off, our senses on high alert. The Whispering Woods is notorious for its dangers—carnivorous plants and other, darker things that lurk in the shadows. Every snapping twig, every rustle of leaves sets us on edge.

As we walk, Flint suddenly stops, holding up a hand. "Wait," he whispers. "Do you hear that?"

I strain my ears, picking up a faint melody carried on the wind. It's hauntingly beautiful, pulling at something deep inside me. The notes seem to weave through the air, visible for a moment as shimmering strands of light before fading away.

"Siren song," Flint hisses. "Cover your ears!"

We clap our hands over our ears, but the song seeps through, tempting us to follow it to its source. I feel my resolve weakening, my feet itching to move towards the sound. Images flash through my mind—a beautiful woman with scales for skin, promising everything I've ever wanted if I just follow her voice.

Flint grabs my arm, his grip painfully tight. "Focus, Caine! It's not real!"

I grit my teeth, summoning my ice magick. With a grunt of effort, I create a barrier of ice around us, muffling the siren's song. Frost patterns spread across the transparent wall, beautiful and deadly. The urge to follow the song fades, leaving me furious at being tricked by that bitch. Everything I ever wanted is lying upstairs in a soft cocoon of blankets, her violet hair spread out on the pillow, not some fish woman who claims she can give me my father's kingdom. No fucking thanks. If I wanted that responsibility, I wouldn't be here trying to separate myself from it.

But the thought lingers. Why did she offer me that if I don't want it?

I shake it off as a question that doesn't need answering.

"We need to hurry."

We press on, eventually reaching the clearing Flint mentioned. True to his word, delicate white flowers are blooming under the moonlight, their petals glowing with an inner light. The sight is breathtaking, almost worth the danger we've faced to get here.

"Careful," Flint warns as we approach. " Moonflowers are temperamental. They don't like to be picked."

As if to prove his point, one of the flowers suddenly snaps shut, nearly taking off Flint's finger as he reaches for it. The petals, moments ago soft and inviting, now look razor-sharp.

"Fucking hell," I mutter. "Any bright ideas?"

Flint grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just one. Follow my lead."

He begins to hum softly, a melody that sounds vaguely familiar. To my astonishment, the moonflowers begin to sway in time with his song, their petals opening wider. It's as if they're listening, entranced by the tune.

"Now," Flint whispers. "Quickly!"

We dart forward, plucking petals as fast as we can. The flowers don't resist, seemingly entranced by Flint's humming. Within moments, we have a handful each. The petals are cool to the touch, almost liquid-like in their softness.

"That was unexpected," I say as we retreat from the clearing. "Where did you learn that trick?"

Flint shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. "My mum. She always said music soothes even the wildest beasts. Guess it works on plants as well as ferocious Dragon Emperors."

I chuckle, tucking the petals safely away in my coat pocket. "Thinking outside the box. Nice. Right, next up. Frost-bitten oak leaves. That should be right up my alley. "

Flint nods, and we head further into the forest, where the ancient trees tower overhead, forming a canopy that covers the waning moonlight. The mist swirls around us as we approach a stand of ancient oaks. Their massive trunks twist towards the sky, branches creaking ominously in the light breeze. "Those look promising. Do you want to do the honours?"

I crack my knuckles, a grin spreading across my face. "With pleasure."

Approaching the nearest oak, I place my hand on its trunk, channelling my ice magick. Frost spreads from my palm, creeping up the tree and along its branches. The leaves crackle as the cold takes hold, turning them a brittle, icy blue. The sound is satisfying, like stepping on fresh snow.

"Perfect," Flint says, carefully plucking a few leaves. They tinkle like glass as he places them gently in his pocket. "These should do nicely."

As we move on to the next item on our list, a rustling in the brambles catches our attention. We freeze, eyes scanning the darkness. The woods suddenly seem much quieter, as if holding its breath in anticipation.

"Please tell me that's just a cute, harmless forest creature," I mutter, my grip tightening on my cane.

Flint shakes his head slowly. "Since when is anything in this forest cute or harmless?"

As if in answer, a massive shape bursts from the bushes. It's part bear, part wolf, with glowing red eyes and wickedly sharp claws. Saliva drips from its maw, sizzling where it hits the ground.

"What the fuck is that?" I yell, raising my cane and calling on the wilder aspects of my magick to defend us against this thing.

"No idea," Flint shouts back, already shifting into a fighting stance. "But I don't think it's here to help us gather ingredients!"

"No shit, Sherlock," I growl and twirl the cane, the Ice Demon magick flowing through it.

The creature lets out a bone-chilling roar and charges towards us. I swing my cane, unleashing a blast of frigid air that coats the ground in front of us with a sheet of ice. The beast's paws slip and slide as it tries to maintain its footing.

Flint takes advantage of its momentary loss of balance, darting in close to deliver a series of rapid punches to its flank. The creature howls in pain and anger, swiping at Flint with its massive claws. He barely manages to dodge, the claws grazing his shirt and leaving tears in the fabric. The close quarters of the trees around us and overhead make it impossible for him to shift to his Dragon form without taking out half the forest. We both know that would be the worst thing imaginable right now.

I channel more of my ice magick into the ground, creating jagged spikes of ice that jut up around the beast's feet.

Flint circles around to the creature's blind spot. As it turns to follow him, I unleash another blast of cold, this time aimed directly at its face. The beast rears back, momentarily blinded by the frost coating its eyes.

The creature roars, a sound that shakes the ground beneath our feet. Claws digging into the ice around it, it charges forward, faster than something its size has any right to move. The earth trembles with each step, trees bending away as if in fear.

I react on instinct, throwing up a wall of ice between us and the beast. It slams into the barrier, cracking it but not breaking through. Yet. The impact sends shockwaves through my body, and I grit my teeth against the strain.

"Any brilliant ideas that don't include you shifting?" I ask Flint, reinforcing the ice wall as the creature batters against it. Cracks spider-web across the surface with each hit.

Flint's eyes are darting around, assessing the situation. "Maybe. Can you keep it distracted?"

I nod grimly. "Oh, I think I can manage that."

As Flint darts off to the side, I drop the ice wall and face the monster head-on. It roars again, saliva dripping from its massive jaws. The stench of its breath is overwhelming, rotting meat and something sulphurous.

"Come on then, you ugly bastard," I taunt, ice crystals forming around my fists. "Let's dance."

The creature lunges, and I dodge, barely avoiding its snapping jaws. I retaliate with a barrage of ice shards, aiming for its eyes. It howls in pain and fury, redoubling its efforts to turn me into a chew toy. Blood mixes with saliva, staining its teeth a sickening red.

We trade blows, my ice magick versus its brute strength and speed. I'm holding my own, but not really getting anywhere. It's like this fucking thing is resistant to magick.

Wondering briefly what Flint is up to, he answers that question as he comes swinging in on a vine, like some sort of deranged Tarzan, and lands squarely on the creature's back. The sight is so ridiculous I almost laugh, despite the danger.

"What are you doing?" I yell, between snickers, narrowly avoiding a swipe of the monster's claws. They whistle past my ear, close enough that I feel the wind of their passage.

"Improvising!" Flint shouts back, clinging on for dear life as the beast bucks and twists, trying to dislodge him.

"How?" I roar as I encase the creature's legs in thick ice, immobilising it for as long as it will hold. The ice creeps up its body, trapping it in a frozen prison.

He doesn't reply, he just closes his eyes and starts to shift.

"Flint! No!" I roar, but he ignores me, and then I see what he is doing.

I think he is attempting a partial shift. His Dragon claws are wickedly sharp and gleaming. With a growl, he plunges them deep into the creature's back. The beast lets out an ear-splitting shriek of agony, thrashing wildly against its icy bonds.

I watch in awe as Flint's partial transformation continues. Scales ripple across his skin, his eyes glowing with inner fire. He's not fully shifting but channelling aspects of his Dragon form in a way I've never seen before, and it's fucking impressive.

The creature's struggles grow weaker as Flint's claws dig deeper. Black ichor oozes from the wounds, hissing and steaming, kicking up a stench that is vile and like it came from Satan's arsehole.

"Caine!" Flint shouts, his voice deeper and more resonant than usual. "Finish it!"

Summoning every ounce of my ice magick, I create a massive spear of ice, wickedly sharp and shimmering in the moonlight. With a grunt, I hurl it straight at the creature's chest.

The ice spear pierces its hide where Flint's claws had created an opening, driving deep into its body. The beast lets out one final, gurgling roar before collapsing. Its form shimmers and then dissolves, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash and a lingering stench.

Flint jumps clear, his partial transformation receding. He's panting heavily.

"Well," I say, lowering my cane. "That was interesting."

Flint laughs, a slightly frenzied edge to it. "Just another day in the Whispering Woods, right?"

We share a look of disbelief before bursting into laughter. The tension of the fight drains away, leaving us giddy with relief and residual adrenaline. It's the kind of laughter that comes after narrowly escaping death, tinged with hysteria but genuinely joyful.

"Come on. We've still got more ingredients to gather, and I, for one, would like to get out of this arsehole forest before anything else tries to eat us."

Flint nods, brushing leaves and dirt from his clothes. "Agreed. What's next on the list?"

I consult Thorne's scribbled notes. "Shadow moss. He said you'd know what that is."

Flint frowns, thinking. "I've heard of it. It's supposed to grow in places where sunlight never reaches. Maybe we should look for a cave or a really dense part of the forest?"

We set off again, our senses on high alert after our encounter with the monster. The forest presses in around us, the whispers in the trees taking on a more sinister tone. Shadows move in ways they shouldn't, and more than once, I catch glimpses of eyes watching us from the darkness.

After a while, we stumble upon a small cave entrance, almost hidden by thick vines. The plants seem to writhe as we approach as if trying to block our path.

"This looks promising," I mutter, peering into the darkness. "Or like a death trap. Hard to tell in this place."

Flint creates a small ball of snowy light in his palm, illuminating the cave entrance. The shadows retreat, but reluctantly, like they're alive and resent the intrusion. "Only one way to find out."

We enter cautiously, the light from Flint's magick casting eerie shadows on the cave walls. The air grows colder and damper as we move deeper into the earth. Our footsteps echo ominously, and I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched.

"There!" Flint suddenly exclaims, pointing to a patch of what looks like black velvet clinging to the cave wall. "That is shadow moss."

As we approach, the moss ripples, like it's been disturbed by an unseen wind. I reach out to touch it, but Flint grabs my wrist, his grip painfully tight.

"Wait," he says, his voice tense. "Something's not right."

Before I can ask what he means, the moss moves. It peels itself off the wall, forming into a vaguely humanoid shape. Where a face should be, there's only a swirling void of darkness. It's like looking into a black hole, and I have to force myself not to stare too long, fearing I might be pulled in.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I groan. "Can't anything in this forest just be a normal plant?"

The shadow creature lunges at us, its form rippling and stretching in impossible ways. We dive in opposite directions, narrowly avoiding its grasp. I feel a chill where it passes, and that is saying something.

"How do we fight something made of shadows?" Flint yells, dodging another attack. The creature's arm elongates, nearly catching him as he rolls away.

"We need Thorne!" I roar, pissed off he sent us here when he is the one needed. But then, an idea strikes me. "With light! Can you make that light of yours any brighter?"

Flint nods, understanding dawning on his face. He concentrates, and the ball of light in his hand grows larger and brighter until it's almost painful to look at. The cave is bathed in brilliant illumination, every nook and cranny exposed.

The shadow creature recoils, its form wavering as if in pain. I seize the opportunity, using my ice magick to create a mirror-like surface on the cave wall. The light reflects off it, amplified, creating a dazzling display that fills the entire cavern.

The shadow being writhes, its form dissipating like smoke in the wind. It lets out a sound like a thousand whispers screaming, a noise that sets my teeth on edge. Within moments, it's gone, leaving behind only a small patch of the shadow moss we came for.

"Well," Flint says, dimming his light as I collect the moss. The texture is strange, both there and not there at the same time. "That was horrific, even for this place."

I chuckle weakly, exhaustion setting in. "I think that could be the motto for this entire expedition."

As we make our way out of the cave and back through the forest, we head back to MistHallow castle, ingredients safely gathered. I find myself feeling oddly energised despite the night's ordeals. There's something about facing danger together, about relying on each other in life-or-death situations, that forges a bond stronger than any magick.

Something tells me we're going to need that bond, that trust, for what's to come, because gathering these ingredients was just the first step. The real challenge—freeing Violet from Nathaniel's control—still lies ahead.

But for now, as the first light of dawn breaks over MistHallow, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, I allow myself a moment of optimism, however fleeting.