50. Aria

50

ARIA

I stood in the middle of Atticus’s room in the den, surrounded by shadows that seemed to whisper his name. A sudden jolt, like lightning striking through my veins, seized me without warning. His mental shields crashed, and a wave of pure torment cascaded into my mind.

I gasped, clutching at my chest. “Atticus.”

Pain—his pain—lanced through me, a million needles piercing my skin and my soul. Somewhere out there, beyond my reach, Atticus was in agony. It clawed at me with ferocious intensity. I knew he wouldn’t want me to go to him. His pride, his need to protect, was as much a part of him as his inked skin, but the connection between us screamed at me to do something, anything.

“God, no...” My cry filled the room, bouncing off the walls, mocking me with its helplessness.

Every nerve in my body was on fire. Within the flames, I searched for that thread, that tether which bound me to him. Behind the disorder of his emotions, behind the distress, was the link that tied our souls to each other. I could feel him there, wrestling with demons in the dark.

“Atticus, hold on.”

My mind reached out, fumbling, grasping for the source of his pain. When I found it, it was like touching a live wire. I recoiled but held on, examining it, trying to understand. Then, with everything in me, I began to pull.

“Ah!” I stifled the scream that threatened to burst forth as the anguish intensified, flooding my senses. This was his suffering, his torture, and I was taking it on myself.

“More,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “I have to take more.”

I pulled relentlessly, each tug a test of my will, each draw a measure of our attachment. The pain grew unbearable, unyielding, but so did my purpose. If I could just take some of it away from him, if I could just bear a fraction of his burden...

“Please,” I begged the silence, “let this work.”

The pain finally let up. I got to my feet and staggered out of the den. I had to get to the manor, to Ilaric, Seren, and Eldan. We needed a plan, and we needed it fast. The ground passed swiftly under my feet as I thought only of reaching my friends and figuring out what the hell we were going to do.

Silver Claw Manor was a silhouette against the overcast sky, and I set off toward it with purpose.

My senses sharpened as I moved, each step crisp and deliberate. The usual night sounds were amplified—a branch snapping, the whisper of leaves rustling. Rancid magic buzzed at the edge of my consciousness, a tangible force that I could almost reach out and grab. My mind had been through the wringer, but now it was laser-focused.

“Who’s there?” I called out, spotting shadows shifting just beyond the tree line. They were too deliberate to be animals.

“You’re dead now,” a voice hissed from the darkness, several figures stepping forward into the faint moonlight. Their unblinking eyes locked on me.

“What do you want?” I demanded, taking a defensive stance.

“There’s no place in the new Lycanterra for you, Aria Winters,” one of them intoned, stepping closer. “Caius will rule, and you will die.”

I was ready for whatever came next. “I make my own destiny.”

The creep of dread tried to claw its way in. It was like a cold hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing tight. But I wouldn’t let it win. I thought of Atticus, of the rogue wolf who had fought through worse than this, who wore his scars like armor. I couldn’t show fear, couldn’t let my guard down.

“Get out of my head,” I muttered. Pushing back against the invasive thoughts with an iron will, I built up walls in my mind like I was fortifying a castle. Atticus didn’t need to sense my panic. He had enough to deal with without my demons adding to his load.

“There have been a few who have tried to defy him,” another of Caius’s believers spoke. “All have failed.”

“Then I’ll be the first to succeed.” My words were defiant, a banner raised against their grim certainty. “You don’t scare me, and neither does your leader.” I sneered.

“Your hubris will be your downfall,” they warned, circling me like vultures waiting for a carcass to fall.

“Enough talk,” I snapped, setting my stance and readying for what I knew was coming. “Do what you came here to do.”

They hesitated, but only for a second. Then they advanced, and I braced myself for the onslaught.

The wind answered my call with a howl, spiraling around me as I stood my ground. Leaves and debris whipped into the air, creating a barrier between the warped shifters and me. They staggered, arms raised to shield their faces, but I was already moving, kicking up a wall of earth to intercept a volley of dark energy hurled in my direction.

“Come on then, “ I taunted, feeling every bit of my elemental magic surge within me. The familiar strength it brought drowned out any lingering pain from earlier. My hands moved with purpose, crafting gusts sharp enough to slice through the thickening tension.

One lunged at me but I sidestepped, letting his momentum carry him past. “Your fate is sealed,” he hissed, recovering and turning to face me again.

“Sealed by who? You?” I laughed as I threw a punch that carried the force of a gale behind it. He flew backward, skidding across the ground.

They outnumbered me, but they weren’t coordinated enough to withstand the havoc of my storm. I drew the moisture from the grass beneath my feet, forming ice along the surface, watching them slip and scramble.

“Enough of your games,” one of them growled, regaining his footing.

“Games?” I said. “This is survival.”

Another assault came, dark tendrils of tainted magic reaching for me like the fingers of death. I threw my arms wide, shattering them with shards of ice. Each movement was crisp, deliberate, a dance I had never performed but somehow knew.

I could feel Atticus’s presence in the back of my mind, a silent support that bolstered my courage. I wouldn’t let these zealots win. Not today.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I challenged, even as fatigue began to creep in.

They regrouped. Behind their masks, I saw the uncertainty and fear in their eyes. They were beginning to realize they weren’t fighting just another shifter; they were fighting a storm incarnate.

With a roar that was both primal and magical, I summoned a final, powerful gust. It swept through the ranks, leaving them scattered and defeated. Their retreat was a sweet symphony to my ears.

I scanned the forest. The path ahead twisted into a narrow chokepoint between gnarled trees. Perfect. I darted forward, feigning weakness. Behind me, their footsteps pounded in pursuit.

“There she goes! Don’t let her escape!” one shouted, eager with anticipation.

“Spread out,” another commanded, trying to keep their formation.

“Idiots,” I muttered.

I reached the path and turned sharply, channeling a surge of wind to topple a nearby tree, blocking the way behind me. Only a few had managed to follow me through.

“Got you now,” I said.

One lunged at me, dark magic swirling in his hands. I sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and used his momentum to slam him into a tree. The connection to my power buzzed through my veins. I wasn’t just using the elements, I was one with them.

“Take her down, “ another screamed.

“Try it,” I challenged.

They came at me, but the cramped space worked against them. I ducked a blow, sent a gust of wind to knock another off balance, then summoned roots from the ground to wrap around his legs. My movements were fluid, each step deliberate. I was the squall, the river, the earth beneath us, I was everything.

“Fall back, “ one of the men yelled, terror lacing his command.

“Too late for that,” I said.

I was Aria Winters, heir to the Silver Claw Pack, and this was my fight.

I stood my ground as the last of them circled me. He charged, a blur of rage and shadow, but I was ready. I kicked him in his chest, and he stumbled back. With a twist of my hand, water surged from the nearby steam and knocked him off his feet .

“Enough,” I said.

He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with alarm, then fled into the forest, disappearing like a ghost among the trees. One by one, the others followed, leaving me alone in the clearing.

My chest heaved as I fought to catch my breath. The fight had drained me, but victory was sweet. His devoted shifters, twisted with dark magic, had underestimated me.

“I did it,” I whispered.

I looked around at the eerily silent woods. In the distance, the manor stood untouched. I had protected it, protected everyone. At what cost?

Crimson Fang and Silver Claw had never been allies, but we’d maintained a fragile peace until Caius Thorne. His magic had twisted those shifters into mindless fanatics. We had to put an end to this. Without him, the hold he had over Crimson Fang would end.

Face hardening, I turned toward my childhood home. There was work to do, plans to make. I wouldn’t let fear dictate my path. Not now, not ever.

I trudged through the thick underbrush, my legs heavy with fatigue. The sun was a mere whisper behind the clouds, barely touching the earth with its light as it rose. I paused, closing my eyes to focus inward. I reached out for Atticus’s essence, that enigmatic presence that lingered in the corners of my mind.

“Atticus?” I whispered into the void, a silent plea riding on the tendrils of our link.

There was a glint, a strengthening of the connection. His shields were up again, solid and impenetrable, but they didn’t mask the vital hum of his existence. He was alive. My knees buckled, and I nearly fell to the ground in relief. Then worry set in. Why were his defenses so tight? What had shaken him?

“Please be okay,” I murmured, the words lost to the wind. “Check in soon.”

I resumed my journey, pushing through the last of the trees. Suddenly, as if conjured by thought alone, the cabin Philesia had given us access to appeared, its timbers aged and windows dark. She was treading carefully, doing her best to help while maintaining a delicate balance. I sent out my thanks, hoping that wherever she was, the words reached her ears.

I approached with caution. The door stood ajar, inviting or warning, I couldn’t tell. Hesitation gnawed at me, but curiosity was a stronger force. I pushed the door wider and stepped inside.

“Hello?” I called softly, half-expecting an echo that never came.

The silence wrapped around me like a blanket. It was the wonder of this impossible place, the magic that seemed to vibrate in the very air, that held me captive. I let out a slow breath and ventured deeper, ready for whatever lay ahead.

The crunch of paper stopped me short. Two figures hunched over a pile of books, their attention so deep it was like they were devouring the words.

“Seren? Lorian?” I whispered.

They jerked up, eyes wide. Seren’s face lit up with that familiar warmth that always made the worst days better. “Aria, “ she exclaimed and rushed over, nearly tripping on a stack of books. Her hug enveloped me in comfort and the faint scent of lavender.

“How did you know about this place?” I asked, pulling back to look at her.

“Lorian suggested a walk to clear my head. I kept thinking we were missing information, that if we just had the last bits of the puzzle, I could put it all together, then this cabin just... appeared,” Seren said. “Like magic.”

“It is,” I said. “It’s Philesia’s. She can’t outright tell us the answers, but she has a way of nudging us in the right direction.”

We shared a smile before she dragged me over to the table littered with open books. “Look at these,” she said, pointing to a hefty leather-bound book.

I leaned in closer, the text swimming before my eyes. It spoke of Lycanterra’s magic, how it laced through the realm, tying into other worlds. A balance that must be kept or all would spiral toward ruin. My heart sank.

“Doesn’t this mean I might have to...” I couldn’t finish the sentence, the thought of sacrifice hanging heavy between us.

Seren’s hand found mine, her grip firm. “We aren’t there yet. We’ll find another way.”

I nodded, wanting to believe her. Doubt gnawed at me like a relentless pest. If my life could ensure the safety of the realms...

“Maybe they should take me,” I murmured more to myself than to her.

“Hey,” Seren said sharply. “Don’t go down that road.”

“Right.” I forced a smile, though inside, the turmoil churned stronger. If giving myself up meant Atticus could live free, maybe even find happiness with someone else... it could be worth it.

“Whatever it takes,” I whispered.

The shadows in the corner of the cabin swirled and twisted into a human form, and before I could process what was happening, Atticus stumbled out of the darkness and collapsed into me. His weight bore down on me, and I wrapped my arms around him. Seren was at my side in an instant, her hands already under his arms, helping me ease him onto the floor.

My fingers trembled as they found the rugged line of his jaw, seeking the life force beneath his skin. It thumped steadily against my touch, strong but erratic.

“His heart’s racing,” I said. On the outside, Atticus looked untouched, the tattoos on his arms as vibrant as ever, but I knew better. Something inside him was wrong, terribly so. The pain he’d endured wasn’t visible, but it was there, lurking beneath the surface.

“Here, let me look.” Seren moved quickly, her eyes scanning over Atticus’s prone figure. “There’s nothing...no cuts, no blood.”

“Outside doesn’t matter,” I muttered. “It’s the inside that’s screaming.”

“Wait.” Seren’s pointed toward the counter where an array of bottles and jars stood like soldiers waiting for their orders. “I saw something earlier that might help with this.”

She darted to the counter, then returned with two small glass bottles. One held a liquid that shimmered like liquid emerald, the other clear as the mountain air.

“Nerve pain and restoration potion,” she read from the first label, her fingers tightening around the cool glass. “This one’s labeled ‘oxygenate.’”

Taking the potions from Seren’s outstretched hands, I turned back to Atticus. His breaths were shallow and ragged.

I held the potions in my hand, but doubt paralyzed me. What if I made things worse? Atticus’s chest rose and fell rapidly. I couldn’t just sit here doing nothing. Hesitantly, I leaned closer to him.

“Atticus?” I whispered uncertainly. “Can you hear me?”

His eyelids fluttered. He was still fighting, still with us. Then, a weak squeeze from his hand shot relief through my veins. He stirred and said, “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?” Confusion laced my words even as I returned the pressure of his hand. “No, don’t be sorry. I’ve got you. I love you too.”

He struggled to open his eyes, the ice-blue of them dulled by pain. There was recognition there, a defiance I knew only too well.

“Can you tell me what hurts? I need to know how to help you.”

“Everything.” His voice cracked. “My father... he tortured me. Set my nerves on fire, stole my breath until I blacked out.”

The stark reality of his words hit me like a physical blow. Guilt washed over me. He was suffering because of me.

“It’s my fault,” I whispered, tears threatening to spill. The thought of confronting Caius myself surfaced, but I crushed it instantly. Caius would trap me, steal my magic. I shuddered at the thought. No, Atticus had protected me by striking that deal. Now he was paying the price for it.

I cradled his head and tried not to sob as I uncorked the vial for nerve pain. I held it to Atticus’s lips, tilting it gently. The liquid disappeared past his lips, a silver glint in the dim cabin light.

“Come on, come on...” I murmured.

His chest rose more evenly, and color returned to his face. The change was rapid, almost miraculous. I followed it with oxygenate potion, and his breaths deepened.

“Atticus?”

His eyes fluttered open, clearer now. He looked at me with awe. “Aria, how did you?—?”

“Shh, don’t talk yet.”

He persisted. “You did something more than just give me those potions. Did you take some of my pain?”

“Does it matter?” I avoided his face, focusing on the empty vials.

“Yes, it does,” he said firmly. “I don’t want you hurting because of me.”

“I’m fine, really.” I met his eyes, steeling myself against the worry I saw there. “I can handle it. And I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“Please promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I can’t promise that,” I said with a resolute shake of my head. “We share this burden now. You need to lean on me too.”

He took my hand and squeezed. “You’re incredible. But I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around.”

“Too late.” I gave him a small grin. “I’m in this with you, all the way.”

A tear slid down Atticus’s cheek, and he brushed it away with the back of his hand. “You’ve fixed something for me. Something I didn’t even realize was broken.”

“What do you mean?” I watched him closely, the lines of pain still creasing his face, but now there was something else. A vulnerability I hadn’t seen before.

“Inside. You’re healing parts of me.” His ice-blue eyes locked onto mine, filled with an intensity that made my heart race. “I love you so much.” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Atticus? What’s wrong?” My voice trembled, fear creeping into the edges of my mind.

He looked away for a beat, then met my eyes again. “My father has decided. Tomorrow, he wants me to mate with Valora.”

“Tomorrow?” The word echoed in the small cabin like a death knell. “Why? How can he?—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, tears welling up again. “I’ve run out of time. I thought we had more...”

“Atticus, no.” I reached out, cupping his face with my hands, willing him to look at me. “We’ll find another way; we always do.”

“There isn’t another way.” His voice cracked, and he shuddered under my touch. “If mating with Valora will keep you safe from him, then... I have to do it.”

“Safe? What about us? What about what we have?”

“Nothing changes how I feel about you.” His hands covered mine on his face. “I will only ever want you, but I need to protect you, even if it means...”

“Even if it means breaking both our hearts.” The words spilled out, bitter and sharp.

“Please understand, I’m doing this for you,” he pleaded, his blue eyes searching mine for forgiveness, for some sign of acceptance.

“Atticus, don’t.” I pulled my hands back, feeling a hollow emptiness crack open inside me. “I love you, but I can’t... This is too much.”

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“Sorry doesn’t change anything.” My heart was hollow, my thoughts spiraling. His warm embrace couldn’t chase away the cold realization settling over me. My love wasn’t enough to save him—to save us.

I struggled to swallow down the panic rising in my throat. “Atticus,” I started, but the words lodged in my throat, useless.

Before I could figure out what to say next, Seren spoke. She stood by the door, her eyes troubled, clutching a book to her chest as if it were a lifeline.

“I don’t want to make things worse,” she began hesitantly, “but I’ve been digging into some old texts looking for information on Caius’s magic.” She paused, biting her lip, then rushed on, “The ties he uses... they’re not like anything I’ve seen before. They’re unbreakable, tied to life itself.”

My heart stuttered, hope and worry warring within me. “What are you saying?”

She looked to Atticus, then back to me, filled with regret. “The only way to remove them is... through death.”

“Death?” The word fell from my lips, cold and final. The room seemed to tilt, reality warping at the edges.

“Whose death?” Atticus said in a low growl, his muscles tensing as he pushed himself to sit up.

Seren’s mouth opened, then closed, no sound escaping. Her silence spoke volumes.

“Damn it, Seren. Whose death?” Atticus pushed again, more forceful this time.

“Either the caster or the one bound,” she whispered.

No one moved. No one breathed. The truth of her words settled over us.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, though I sounded distant, detached from the deluge of sensations inside me.

She nodded, her eyes not meeting mine, and slipped out of the room, leaving us to grapple with the impossible choice laid bare before us.