34. Atticus

34

ATTICUS

“ E asy,” I said. “Focus on my voice.”

The wind howled around us, branches snapping like brittle bones. The ground beneath our feet trembled, mirroring the disquiet that came to me through our bond.

“Atticus… I can’t…” Her words were almost lost in the roar of the elements.

“Look at me!” I grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eye. “You’re stronger than this.”

Her eyes, wild with fear and power, finally locked onto mine. “How do I stop it?”

“Watch out!” I shouted as a tree groaned, tearing from its roots and falling where we’d stood seconds ago.

“I don’t know how to stop this!” Aria yelled over the roar, her hands outstretched as if to hold back the onslaught.

“Stay with me. Breathe.” I grabbed her hand, the vibrations of her power pulsing against my skin.

Another bolt of lightning split a nearby tree, its bright flash illuminating the terror on her face. The river churned wildly, a waterspout reaching up to the gray sky, fish and frogs suspended alongside rocks and various plants in mid-air.

“Everything’s out of control,” she cried.

“Not everything,” I said, squeezing her hand tighter. “I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m with you.”

A gust whipped around us, almost tearing her away, but I held on, planting my feet firmly into the dry riverbed. Twigs and leaves battered my face, but I didn’t so much as flinch.

“Find a calm spot inside you,” I instructed, aware of the irony as debris whirled around us like a mad carousel. “Use it as an anchor.”

Nodding, she closed her eyes. The havoc around us seemed to hesitate, waiting for her command.

“What can you feel? What is real?” I urged her, trying to pull her back from the brink.

Her grip on my arms was so tight that her nails left half-moon indentations in my skin.

Through her tears, she choked out, “You. Your shirt.”

“Good, that’s good, Aria,” I said as that raw energy began to ebb. “What can you hear?” I couldn’t decide whether I was terrified or in awe of the intense power radiating from her.

“Your voice,” she said, and the wind died down in response.

“You can do it, Aria. What can you smell?” Her nose wrinkled as she inhaled, scenting the air.

“Stop!” Her voice cracked like thunder as her eyes snapped open. The wild energy retreated completely as quickly as it had exploded. The forest fell silent except for the sound of settling debris.

Heart hammering, I glanced around at the toppled trees and scattered river life gasping on the barren riverbed. “You stopped it. You did it.”

She swayed on her feet, her gaze locked on the wreckage. “What have I done?” Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, her hands digging into the dirt.

“It’s all right.” I crouched beside her, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through me. “This isn’t on you.”

“How can you say that? I destroyed everything.”

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “It’s just a bit of a mess. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re learning. That’s what matters.”

“Learning?” She looked around the decimated forest, tears streaming down her face. “At what cost?”

“Without control, power can be destructive,” I admitted, feeling the weight of my own past. “But fear isn’t the answer. Harnessing this strength inside you is.”

“Easy for you to say,” she spat.

“Trust me, I’ve seen darkness.” I met her gaze. “But you, Aria, you have light in you. And I’ll be damned if we don’t figure out how to use it right.” I grunted, pushing against the ground. “I need to get up.”

But it wasn’t happening. My arms shook, and the world tilted as I stumbled, a sharp stab of pain slicing through my midsection.

“Atticus! You’re hurt!”

“Am I?” I mumbled, looking down at the jagged piece of wood jutting from my abdomen. Blood spread around it, soaking my shirt. I hadn’t even felt the branch pierce the skin. The rush of adrenaline had numbed the pain. My priority had and always would be her.

“Gods, no,” she cried out, crawling to me, her own exhaustion painted across her face. “This is my fault.”

“Stop that.” My hand found her cheek, thumb brushing away the tears trailing down. “This is not your fault.”

“How can you say that?” Her eyes were wide as she gestured to the disarray around us. “Look at the forest. Look at you!”

“Accidents happen.” I forced the words out, trying to remain conscious. “Especially when we’re testing our limits.”

“Accident? I did this to you!” Her trembling hands hovered over the wound.

“Focus on me, not the wound. We’ll fix this. I’ll be okay.”

“Can you shift? Make it back to the den, to Mia?” She scanned my face for signs of the immense amount of pain I was trying to hide from her.

“Should be able to,” I said, gritting my teeth at the idea. “It might speed up the healing.”

“Okay.” She gave a quick, decisive nod. She stepped back, giving me space. “Do it.”

Taking a deep breath, I focused on the change, on the familiar pull and twist of muscles and bones. My vision clouded as the transformation took over, fur replacing skin, limbs reshaping. The pain didn’t subside, though. It stayed, sharp and insistent.

I stood on four legs now, but the relief I expected didn’t come. Confused, I glanced down. For fuck’s sake.

We were surrounded by wolfsbane. No wonder the pain persisted.

“ Careful ,” I warned her through the telepathic link my powers allowed. “ Wolfsbane .”

“Shit.” She looked around at the purple-tinged plants. “We need to move out of this.”

Growling, I limped forward. Each step sent a jolt through my body.

“Atticus, please hold on.” Aria’s voice was strained with worry. “I’m right here.”

I panted, my strength waning.

“Let me help you.” She nudged my side to offer support. “Can you do that thing you mentioned? Shadow travel?”

“Can’t shadow walk right now,” I told her between shallow breaths. “ Wolfsbane’s done a number on me.”

She snarled in frustration. “Damn this forest! Please, whatever god is listening, help us!”

The trees still standing around us shuddered, leaves rustling in response to her call, but nothing else happened. We continued on our long walk to the den.

As we pushed our way through the tangle of trees along the river bed, and her eyebrows shot up in disbelief as she gazed down at me.

“This isn’t the path, is it?” she asked in surprise.

I grimaced as a sharp pain shot through me. The blood loss was really taking its toll on me. The encroaching darkness impeded my vision as I glanced around. Doubt crept into my mind. I had to be hallucinating because the forest had opened a path that brought us closer to the den.

“It is, but we’re much closer to home than we should be,” I said.

Aria pushed me onward, determined to get me to safety.

As we trudged down the short path, I leaned against Aria for support. When we finally reached a distance close enough to be heard, she started yelling.

“Mia! Joren. Someone please help. Atticus is hurt.”

Joren emerged from behind the curtain that concealed the den, scanning the forest to pinpoint the origin of the commotion. When he saw us, he was at my side in an instant. “Shift, Atticus. I’ll carry you in.”

I did, and he carefully lifted me and took me inside. Aria’s weeping reached my ears, and I desperately wished to comfort her, but weariness overwhelmed me.

Mia rushed over to us and inspected my wound. With a sharp intake of breath, she ran to the storage area and grabbed clean linens, which she threw over one of the long sofas. “Lay him down.”

He set me down, and I winced at the movement. The pain was a constant, fiery throb. Aria came up beside me, holding two pillows. She carefully lifted my head and slipped the pillows underneath. As she made to move back, I grabbed her hand, as much for my own comfort as hers.

I tried to gauge Mia’s reaction as she examined the piece of wood protruding from me. “Is it bad?”

“Could be worse,” Mia replied curtly, though her furrowed brow betrayed her. “We need Ilaric.”

“Ilaric?” Confusion laced my voice. “Why?”

“Trust me,” she said, not looking up.

Aria swayed slightly at my side. “I’ll go.”

“No.” I squeezed her hand. “You’re weakened.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted as she extricated her hand from mine.

“Really, Aria, you don’t have to?—”

“Be back soon,” she cut in and was gone, shifting fluidly as she darted out the door. The world was a hazy fog around me as I slipped closer into unconsciousness.

“Rest now,” came Mia’s distant voice. “Save your strength.”

I strained to concentrate on her instructions, but the edges of my vision turned dark, and I struggled to remain awake. Sounds from the outside world grew fainter, and I slipped into a restless sleep, where reality and dreams mingled.

“We’re back,” Aria said when she returned with Ilaric in tow. My eyelids fluttered open. I had no idea how much time had passed.

“Good,” Mia nodded. “Ilaric, we need your help.”

He knelt beside me. “Whatever you need.”

“Your ability,” Mia started, hands glowing faintly as she held them above my stomach. The piece of wood was gone. She must’ve done that while I was passed out. “Can you amplify me?”

“I can,” Ilaric confirmed, placing his hands near hers. “But...”

“But what?” I managed through gritted teeth.

“His power enhances the power of others,” Mia explained, looking from Ilaric to me.

“It’s why the forest reacted so violently to Aria’s emotions while she was practicing her magic,” Ilaric admitted.

“Enhances?” Aria looked between them, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “You knew?”

“Until today, I only suspected it,” Ilaric said, avoiding her eyes. “What happened earlier, with you, it was too much. I had to leave.”

Aria looked away, and I felt the sting of betrayal from her through the bond.

“I am so sorry, Aria,” he whispered after a moment.

Mia pressed her trembling hands against the wound, and the throbbing intensified, making me waver on the edge of unconsciousness. Ilaric stood beside her, his hands resting firmly on her shoulders. In the past, when Mia healed injuries in this manner, she’d stay in one position for a long time, a subtle heat emanating from her hands that resulted in partial closure of the wound.

With Ilaric’s boost, a surge of intense heat came through Mia’s hands, fleeting yet powerful. When I glanced down, the deep gash had vanished, leaving only a lingering ache and dried blood on my skin. Curiously, I gently probed the area on my side. There was a twinge of discomfort as the muscles underneath reacted, although it was nowhere near as intense as before. I was exhausted, and every blink felt like a battle to stay awake.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice raspy.

“Your gift,” Aria said softly. “It’s not just about enhancing magic. It amplifies who you are... Your wisdom, your kindness, your gentleness.”

Ilaric looked at her, a watery sheen in his eyes. “I... hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Is there anything else he’s now become extraordinary at?” Joren chimed in, a hint of lewd humor in his tone.

Before anyone could answer, I caught a shift in Aria’s energy, a spike of panic. I turned to see her face had gone white.

“Mia!” I shouted.

Aria’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she crumpled to the floor, her body limp and lifeless.

Mia was beside her in an instant, her capable hands swiftly moving over Aria’s body, searching for any injuries.

“Is she...” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“No. She just succumbed to the exhaustion of using up her power,” Mia explained in a calm but urgent voice. “Ilaric and I will handle this.” She pointed at me. “ You stay put.”

I tried to sit up, biting back the pain that flared in my side. “I need to...”

“You need to stay down!” Mia hissed. “You’re no help to her if you push yourself too fast.”

“But she needs?—”

“Atticus,” she snapped, “you’d only be in the way. Lie back.”

Gritting my teeth, I sank back onto the sofa, the protest dying in my throat.

“Put her next to me,” I said after a moment, voice firm despite the pain. “Our bond does something when we’re close.”

Mia raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips as she regarded me, then nodded at Ilaric. They gently picked Aria up and settled her beside me.

“See?” I said. Our markings shimmered faintly, like embers coming to life.

“Interesting,” Mia murmured.

Aria’s body warmed next to mine and her breathing evened out. She stirred, nuzzling closer to me, instinctively seeking the comfort of our connection.

Every muscle in my body relaxed as I felt her steady presence once again.

My heavy eyelids slid shut as a restless sleep yanked me back in time to my childhood.

I was ten years old again, a small, scared child. Shadows clung to corners of my bedroom, their whispers offering comfort. They were my allies, my shroud when my father prowled around the house. Tonight, his boots thumped an ominous rhythm that matched my racing heart. That sound was the prelude to a night of fear.

“Atticus. Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sang with mock warmth. “Where are you, boy?”

I didn’t answer, just edged backward into my room. The door creaked as I closed it softly behind me. I knew better than to think hiding would save me, but old habits die hard. Beneath my father’s enthusiastic mask, there simmered a mixture of anger, disappointment, and a warped notion of what it meant to be a parent.

“Come on, son. Don’t you want to play?” His voice rose, a crescendo of false cheer.

I pressed my back against the wall, willing myself to melt into the shadows, to become unseen, untouchable. His footsteps neared, each step a heavy thud in the terrifying silence.

I slipped into the closet, the darkest place I could find. No windows, no light, just me and the shadows. Here, they seemed alive, wrapping around me like a second skin. It was strange how they responded to even the smallest flicker of my thoughts. I despised and appreciated them in equal measures. The shadows were what made me different and caused my father to hate me so intensely, but in moments like these, they were my only solace. When something or someone threatened me, they acted as a shield.

“Atticus.” My father’s voice was closer now. The floorboards outside groaned under his weight. “You think you’re so clever, hiding. But I can hear your heart pounding from here.”

I squeezed into the corner, letting the shadows swallow. His taunting continued as he stepped into my room.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” he said, each word dripping with a venom that made my stomach twist. “If only you could have fixed what is broken in you. Your mother would still be alive, and I wouldn’t have to do this to you. But you’ve left me no choice.”

Clamping my hand over my mouth, I held my breath to keep the sob from escaping. I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. As I curled into a tight ball, the darkness became my protector. It kept me hidden. Kept me safe.

I could hear the snarls, the growls, the heavy breaths of the wolf that was my father. He’d shifted. His breath, tainted by stale alcohol, hung in the stillness as he inched closer. I braced myself, squeezing my eyes shut, every muscle tensed for the impact.

“Come on out,” he taunted in my mind. “ It’s time, Atticus .”

I was cornered, a child, defenseless against the towering presence of the wolf that stalked me. A steady stream of tears flowed down my face, and I tasted salt on my lips. Hardly a fair fight.

I braced myself, ready for the pain, for the end. At least I’d see my mother again. Hopefully.

I waited, but then… nothing. Just silence and the eerie sensation of complete stillness. Confused, I cracked open one eye, then the other, and peered through the darkness that cloaked me. I couldn’t believe it. There he was, the big, menacing wolf, frozen in place. He was pinned to the floor, his limbs forced into his flank. Shadows pressed down on him as if they’d sprung to life on their own accord. My father struggled, muscles rippling under his fur, but the shadows held firm.

“Atticus,” he roared, shifting back from beast to man, straining against the inky darkness that ensnared him. “What is this?”

I didn’t answer, just watched, stunned by a power I didn’t fully understand. The power that had saved me once again.