40. Aria

40

ARIA

T he kitchen in Atticus’s den was a pocket of warmth filled with the heavenly aroma of coffee. The first rays of sunlight peeked through the windows. Atticus, Mia, Lyza, and I were huddled around the table like it was any normal day, like our world hadn’t just turned upside down.

“Okay, so I’m not crazy.” Atticus’s voice had an edge, one that told me he’d been through hell and back before breakfast. “The dream was too vivid to ignore.”

The silver streak in his hair caught the light, reminding me of lightning about to strike. The dream he recounted sounded more like a premonition, a warning from the depths of his subconscious.

“Was anyone else there? Can you think of any clues that could help?” Mia asked. She emanated the kind of warmth that could soothe even the deepest wounds.

Lyza snorted. “Forget following dreams. We should just hunt this bastard down before he hurts you. Right, Aria ?”

Her words were loaded, a hidden jab at me for past mistakes. For hurting Atticus. I felt her anger. It twisted my gut. But I nodded, shoving down the guilt.

“It could be a trap,” I said, trying to sound as level-headed as Mia. “We need to be careful.”

Atticus nodded along. I could see the wheels in his mind turning. “Let’s think this through,” he said finally. “No rushing in blind.”

“Fine,” Lyza conceded, though the glint in her eye said she’d prefer immediate action. “But if it comes down to it, I’m ready to fight.”

“Of course you are,” Atticus replied with a half-smile. There was more at play here, something personal for him. And I knew better than to think he’d let it go easily.

“I can come with you,” I said.

He shook his head. “Aria, no. This is my past. Mine to confront.” His ice-blue eyes held mine. “You have your own battles. I won’t add to them.”

“But—”

“I need to do this alone.”

I exhaled, a silent admission of defeat, and nodded.

“Okay, you know where I am if you need me.” I sighed. “I need to return to the Silver Claw lands,” I said, my voice smaller than I intended. “I caused a lot of destruction, and it’s time I faced it.”

Mia patted my shoulder. “You’re doing what’s right. That takes courage.”

Lyza leaned back, arms crossed, but her eyes softened. “Yeah, well, it’s about time things got put back how they should be.” She glanced briefly at Atticus. “We’ve got your back. In more than one way.”

Their words and support were like a salve to the raw wounds of guilt that had festered within me. I nodded, grateful for their understanding, for their outsider’s insight that shed new light on the path I had to walk.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “I’ll make things right. Whatever it takes.”

Atticus grabbed his jacket, the leather creaking as he moved. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, giving me a brief glance before heading out the door.

“How is he, really?” I whispered.

Mia poured another cup of coffee. “He missed you,” she said, handing me a steaming mug. “Every night, staring at the moon as if he could find answers there.”

“His nightmares got worse,” Lyza added, pushing a plate of toast toward me. “Kept waking up in cold sweats. We did what we could, but...” She shrugged, her face tight.

A lump formed in my throat. Devastation washed over me, guilt twisting in my gut.

“I never wanted to hurt him,” I said, clutching the warm mug for comfort.

“None of us ever do,” Mia said.

Lyza cleared her throat, shifting uneasily on her stool.

“Lyza, I need you to know how much Atticus means to me.”

She said nothing, just stared me down.

“I’m dealing with so much right now,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, “and I know I’ve made mistakes. Huge ones. But I’m working to fix them—for him, for everyone.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Lyza said flatly.

“I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I needed to clear the air.”

Lyza shifted her weight, the leather of the stool creaking under her. She looked down at her hands before meeting my gaze again.

“Look,” she started, “I won’t pretend to understand everything you’ve been through or all your reasons for the choices you’ve made. But I see what you’re doing now, trying to make things right.”

She paused, clearly choosing her words carefully.

“Atticus is family to me. You hurt him, and that’s not easy to forget.” Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then softened. “But I also see how much you care and how hard this is for you. So, yeah, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. For Atticus’s sake. Sorry is as sorry does. Just don’t let us down. Don’t let him down.”

“Thank you,” I said with a small sense of relief. “I won’t. I can’t.”

“Good.” She nodded. “Now go on, do what you need to do.”

I stood up, my legs stiff from the tension. “I will. And... thank you.”

“Sure,” she replied, almost smiling, but not quite.

With that, I left. The road I had to walk was paved with intentions I needed to turn into actions.

Ten minutes later, a sliver of morning sunlight pierced the clouds and caressed my skin as I made my way to the manor. The world felt different in that light, softer somehow, despite the insanity that had become my norm. As I walked, I went over the lessons in mental shielding that Atticus had drilled into me.

I stopped and closed my eyes for a moment, letting the serenity settle. Exhaling slowly, I pictured those invisible barriers I was learning to construct around my mind. It was like flexing a muscle I never knew I had, but each time it responded more readily, shaping itself to my command.

“Stronger,” I murmured as I walked, imagining the shields thickening, becoming more solid and impenetrable with each step. There was a rhythm to it, the practice merging with my pace, my heartbeat, until I could almost see the shimmer walls.

Damn it. The shields were there, but they still felt flimsy, too easily swayed. I needed structure, something concrete to hold them up.

My father’s office came to mind, the order of it, the way he filed everything from documents to artifacts. With that clarity came the sharp jab of loss, and my shields wavered.

“Stop,” I ordered myself, refusing to let the grief breach the barriers. If I wanted this to work, I had to disconnect from those feelings. I needed a neutral memory, a place without the sting of recent sorrow.

The kitchen. Yes, that could work.

I recalled the manor’s kitchen and its smells and sounds. The staff who moved like parts of a clockwork, each knowing their role. The counters always gleamed. Behind the cooks, a wall of ingredients stood at the ready, a perfect system of organization. I clung to that image, using it as a blueprint for my mental defenses.

“Shelves,” I whispered, picturing them lining the walls of my mind. “Labels. Compartments.”

The pain eased as I focused. I could almost feel the shelves solidifying, the disorder of my thoughts being sorted neatly into place. It was working. My magic hummed in agreement, the raw energy finding channels through the structure I imposed.

I opened my eyes and reinforced the visualization as I went.

My footsteps grew more confident as I continued down the path. The sense of control was empowering, a small victory in a sea of battles yet to be fought.

In my mind, I slid a jar of sugar crystals onto the shelf, each granule sparkling like a memory from my childhood. The laughter, the games, every sweet memory sealed inside with a soft pop of the lid closing.

“Perfect,” I murmured, turning to the next jar that contained a swirl of golden honey, thick and slow-moving. It glimmered with the light of a first love, the rush of warmth that had once bloomed. I placed it gently beside the sugar, a treasure among treasures.

Fingers shaking slightly, I reached for the bitter herbs. They dangled from the rafters, their scent sharp and unforgiving. Each leaf was a hurt, a worry, an anxiety I carried. The drying process had taken the edge off, but the bite remained.

“You don’t control me anymore,” I said, more to convince myself than anything else.

The dusty bag of cayenne pepper came next. It crinkled as I set it down, the sound echoing a betrayal’s fiery sting. I didn’t linger on it, nor on the strong coffee grounds that represented days and nights of intense focus and fatigue.

A smile touched my lips as I handled the jug of fresh milk, feeling its promise of purity and simple joys. It brought back memories of innocence, of a time when choices were easy and laughter came quick. That carton found its place among the other containers, neatly labeled and ordered.

Finally, I approached the icebox. Its door opened with a creak, the cold seeping out and wrapping around me like a ghostly embrace. I hesitated, then steeled myself, and placed the blocks of ice carefully inside. These were the worst of my memories, frozen not to forget but to contain. I could still feel the chill of them, but they were under lock and key now.

“Stay there,” I commanded, my breath misting in the air. “I’ll deal with you on my terms.”

It was all there, my life organized and compartmentalized. With each memory stored away, I was lighter, more in command.

I was sorting through the last of my memories, the jars clinking softly as I placed them on the shelves in my mind. The control was perceptible, a foreign sensation I welcomed. My magic no longer felt like a wild river but more like streams I could navigate and direct. It was working, I was actually doing it.

The power settled within me. Each jar snapped into place with a satisfying click, each emotion compartmentalized.

Then, without warning, that sense of calm shattered. My steps faltered as a shadow loomed ahead on the path. Caius stood there, an unmovable mountain of dark intent, blocking my way.

“Fuck,” I cursed. This wasn’t just fear, it was something primal, something that knew death was staring it right in the face.

“Lost, little alpha?” His voice slithered through the air, cold and taunting.

“Get out of my way, Caius,” I said, summoning every ounce I possessed. My hands twitched at my sides, itching to summon the water. Would it be enough against him?

The silence between us snapped like a twig underfoot as Caius unleashed a torrent of dark energy. I jerked to the side, feeling the whoosh of his power arcing toward where I’d just stood. I threw my hands forward, pushing out a haphazard shield of water that barely managed to deflect his next assault.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he sneered as his hands moved in a relentless rhythm, casting spells with lethal precision.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to call on the calm of my mental cabinets, but panic was a wildfire in my veins. My response was a desperate splash of energy, more instinct than skill, that fizzled against the onslaught of Caius’s magic.

I dodged another strike that splintered a tree behind me. I was dancing on a knife-edge, reacting rather than acting, every move costing me dearly.

The ground tilted. I wasn’t just fighting Caius, I was fighting to keep my own powers from turning wild. He was a force of nature, his control absolute, while I was still the tempest-tossed sea, unpredictable and dangerous.

“Pathetic,” Caius spat out, every word tinged with venom as he stepped closer, his magic crackling around him.

Each clash drained me, my shields fraying at the edges. The destruction my untamed magic had wrought in the village, the fear in my pack’s eyes, sprang to mind unbidden. At least here, in the woods, only the trees bore witness to my potential failure.

I summoned every last drop of strength. Doubt was a seed already taking root, threatening to sprout into full-blown despair. I was outmatched, and deep down, I knew it.

He stepped forward, my body instinctively moved backward, my eyes darting around to find a way out. My options grew slimmer until I was trapped, my back pressed against the trunk of the tree.

Caius’s magic pinned me to the tree like an invisible vise. His eyes, a cold and lifeless black, roamed over me with a newfound curiosity, like a predator appraising its caught prey.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself. The pressure of his magic increased, squeezing the breath from my lungs as he tilted his head and studied me.

I struggled against the hold, but it was no use. Caius was too strong. My mind raced. I needed to escape, to fight back, but my body refused to obey. I was trapped, and this bastard was enjoying every single second of it.

His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “I’ll get more out of you than Larkin did, and I don’t mean information.” His gaze dropped, lingering on my chest. “Might as well have some fun before I put you where you belong.”

That chilled me to the bone. He wasn’t just planning to kill me. Bile crept up my throat. Death would be a mercy compared to what he wanted.

“You must be a good lay if Atticus is sniffing around you so much.” His voice was a low growl, and I could physically feel his eyes crawling over my skin, stripping away more than just my dignity.

White-hot anger flared within me. I wouldn’t let him see my fear. “Go to hell,” I spat.

Caius only laughed, his magic making the air crackle with malice. “Oh, we’re going to have quite the time, you and I.”

His magic sliced through my shirt like it was nothing, tearing it in half. I shrieked, my body jerking against his invisible restraints.

“Stop struggling, sweetheart,” Caius cooed, mockery lacing his tone. “You’ll only make it worse.”

I glared at him, ignoring the panic that clawed at the edges of my mind. His lips curled into a grotesque smile as he stepped closer, close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin. My stomach churned as my breakfast threatened to make a violent return.

He traced my jawline with a deliberate slowness, ice trailing in its wake. A shiver of revulsion ran through me. I wanted to turn away, to escape his touch, but the magic held me firm, a puppet in his cruel hands.

“Such delicate skin,” he murmured. His finger followed the tear in my clothing, down over my collar bone, between my breasts and over my stomach, stopping just above the waistband of my trousers. “What a waste.”

“Get your hands off me,” I hissed.

“Patience,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. “All in good time.”

“Atticus,” I gasped, the mere thought of him igniting a spark in the pit of my stomach.

Caius’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the change in my demeanor. “Thinking of your hero?” he snarled. “Don’t bother, he can’t hear you,” Caius taunted. “I’ve made sure he’s deaf to your call.”

“Shut up!” The knowledge of what he intended to do next sent icy tendrils down my spine. It wasn’t just fear for myself that fueled the fire in my belly. It was the realization that if I didn’t make it out of this, Atticus and the pack would suffer, too. I couldn’t— wouldn’t —let that happen.

I focused on the remnants of strength left in my body, feeling them coalesce into something potent, something fierce.

“I’m not done yet,” I whispered.

“Brave last words,” he mocked, but I didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

I willed my magic to rise, to break through the constraints Caius had placed on me. My hands trembled, but the bindings loosened ever so slightly. I had to time this right and gather every ounce of power I had left for one final push.

With a sudden surge of energy, I fought against the magic holding me, imagining it as a physical force that I could shove away. It gave, just a crack, but that was all I needed. I lunged at him, slamming my fist into his face.

“Get back,” I screamed. I refused to go down without a fight. Not now, not ever.

The forest seemed to pull back, as if it could escape the violence. I was running on fumes, my magic a mere whisper compared to what it usually was. But I had to try. With everything left in me, I summoned a surge of elemental power, pushing it toward Caius.

My power collided with his darkness. “Take that, you fucker.”

For a second, he staggered. Hope sparked within me. Maybe, just maybe, I could push him back.

Then he grinned, that cruel, knowing smirk that set me on edge. “You’re a frisky one,” he said, adjusting himself in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Stay back.” My voice broke, high and panicked.

Caius only laughed, his steps slow and deliberate, each one a promise of pain.

I stumbled backward, tripping over roots and rocks. I had to get away, had to?—

A shadow of dark energy whipped toward me that I couldn’t dodge in time. It struck hard, sending me flying through the air.

I crashed into the ground. Pain shot through me, the world tipping and spinning out of control. I squinted against it and tried to push myself up. My arms shook, then gave out. Caius’s dark silhouette towered over me, blocking out the sunlight.

“You thought you could stand against me?” He loomed closer. “You’re nothing but a child playing with forces beyond her comprehension.”

I tried to speak, to hurl an insult or a threat, but only a pained breath left me.

I tried so hard to get up, but my body wouldn’t obey. Air sawed in and out of my lungs, and I clenched my jaw against the pain pulsing through me. I glared up at Caius, defiance burning behind the fear.

“You’ll never win,” I gasped in a threadbare whisper. “As long as we stand, you’ll never break us.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, cold and sharp as shards of ice. “Brave words for someone so utterly defeated.” He leaned down, his breath foul with the stench of dark magic. “Don’t worry, you’ll be useful yet.”

I wanted to spit at him, to claw at his smug face, but my limbs were leaden.

“Once I harness your powers, my victory will be sure,” he continued. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can get properly acquainted while we’re waiting.”

“Never,” I hissed, though it was more air than sound.

Caius chuckled, low and dangerous. “When the seers and prophets told me about how powerful you were becoming, I laughed it off. But you, my dear… You are something.”

I flinched as dark energy whipped around my wrists, cold and unyielding. Caius stood over me, his face a mask of triumph. “Pathetic,” he sneered, and with a simple gesture, the shadows tightened their grip.

“Let go of me,“ I struggled against the dark bindings, but my efforts were laughable. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing, my feet dangling helplessly above the ground.

“Struggle all you want, it makes no difference,” Caius said in a low rumble.

“Atticus will come for me,” I hissed, clinging to the thought of my defender in the darkness encroaching on my mind.

“Ah, the rogue. My son .” Caius chuckled. “He’ll die just as easily.”

I swung at him with the little movement I had, my attack feeble and off-mark. He slapped me, the force of his blow disorienting me. The forest spun into a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds muted to a distant hum.

“Sleep now, Aria.” Caius’s voice filtered through the haze. “Your new life begins when you wake.”

Everything went black.

Cold seeped into my bones as awareness crept back in. I blinked against the oppressive dark. My lungs pulled in air thick with the mustiness of decay and damp. I tried to move, to sit up, but my body was slow to obey.

“Where am I?”

I squinted, struggling to make sense of my surroundings. Stone walls loomed over me, close enough that I could feel their chill. Runes crawled along their surface, pulsing with a light that seemed alive. The glow did little to illuminate the space.

“Great,” I muttered sarcastically, despite the dread tightening its grip on me. “A magic dampening cellar. Just what I needed.”

This was no ordinary prison. This place was sharpened by sorrows long past, honed into a weapon against the unwary.

“Atticus...” His name was a lifeline, a hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find me even here.

There was only silence, a void where his presence used to linger in the corners of my mind. I was truly alone.

I squeezed my eyes shut, then snapped them open again. Nothing changed. The darkness remained absolute.

“Got to get out,” I muttered, pushing against the cold floor with trembling hands. I rose unsteadily to my feet, the stones beneath me slick with unseen moisture. I reached out, trailing my fingers along the wet walls. The runes there hummed with an energy that made my skin crawl.

“Atticus?” My voice sounded so small and frail in the suffocating silence. No answer came. No comforting brush of his thoughts against mine. “Atticus, can you hear me?”

I waited, straining to catch any hint of him. There was nothing but the echo of my own desperation.

I was alone.

A chill ran down my spine, but I quashed it, refusing to let the fear take hold. I had to find a way out.

Feeling my way along the wall, I searched for a door, a window, anything that could get me out of this hell hole.

Tears leaked from my eyes as a gaping chasm opened in my heart. Atticus had always been there, a constant presence in the back of my mind. Now, in this place of ancient malice, even that had been stolen from me.