Chapter 23

SWYN

The air inside the house is still, heavy with dust and memory. I step over the threshold and the sensation washes over me—a pulse of magic, old and deep, like the house is alive, breathing beneath the surface.

I can feel it in the floorboards, the walls, even the faint chill in the air. My family's magic is embedded here, woven into every corner of this space.

I move slowly through the entranceway, glancing around as I take it all in. The lounge is the first room I step into. It's grander than I expected, with high ceilings and large windows that let in the dull light of the overcast day.

The furniture is draped in dusty white sheets, but beneath them, I can see the richness of the dark wood and old velvet upholstery. A stone hearth dominates one wall, and I notice the charred remains of a fire long gone cold in the grate.

Someone was here, but how long ago? My fingers brush along the mantle, and a soft warmth hums beneath my touch. Magic lingers here, like an old friend waiting to be woken.

The parlour is next, filled with more covered furniture, but it feels cosier. A large wingback chair sits by the window, a perfect reading spot for afternoons long forgotten.

There's an old gramophone in the corner, and I can almost imagine the faint strains of music that would have filled the room, paired with quiet conversation and laughter.

I leave the parlour and head into the kitchen. It's surprisingly large, with a long wooden table in the centre, the surface worn smooth from years of use.

Pots and pans hang from hooks along the walls, and jars of dried herbs line the shelves—each one labelled in my family's meticulous handwriting. I smile faintly.

It's like a time capsule, perfectly preserved beneath the dust. As I pass the stove, there's another ripple of magic, a subtle reminder that the house hasn't truly been abandoned.

The conservatory catches my eye next, and I step toward it, curious.

The conservatory is a greenhouse-style room off the kitchen, its glass walls clouded with age, but still allowing light to filter through. Inside, the space feels like an apothecary—rows upon rows of plants, most of them withered now but once full of life.

Shelves hold ancient tomes and vials of dried ingredients. The scent of lavender and rosemary lingers faintly in the air. I kneel beside one of the pots, brushing the dried soil with my fingers, and a faint spark of magic flickers at my touch, making me smile.

This house is a sanctuary of sorts. Forgotten, but not lost. And I can feel it welcoming me, almost as if it knows I've returned.

The guys have spread out through the house, checking to make sure it's safe. Kel's heavy footsteps are above me, Ri's voice as he calls out something to Sol from the back rooms.

But when I'm alone, for the briefest moment, I feel it. The sensation of being watched. A prickle runs down the back of my neck and I whirl around, but there's nothing—just the house settling around me.

Still, the feeling lingers, like a pair of eyes just out of sight.

I shake it off, turning back to the conservatory. There's nothing here but memories.

A few moments later, the guys come back downstairs. Kel is the first to appear, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"All clear," he says, his voice casual. "You should go explore, we'll wait down here."

Sol steps into the room, nodding in agreement, and before I can respond, he leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek, his lips warm and soft against my skin.

"Go on, then," he murmurs with a smirk.

Kel isn't far behind. His kiss lands on the other side of my face, a little more lingering, a little less playful. My breath hitches for a moment, caught between them, and I try not to let it show on my face.

Then there's Ri. He stands a little further back, watching. For a moment, I think he's going to kiss me too, but he hesitates. His eyes meet mine, something flickering in them that I can't quite place.

Instead of stepping closer, he tilts his head slightly, his lips pressing together in a thin line. The tension in the room becomes something palpable, heavy between us.

I wait, heart pounding for some reason I can't explain, but he doesn't move. Doesn't close the distance. The moment passes, and he looks away, stepping back into the kitchen as if nothing happened.

There's a strange pang of disappointment in my chest, but I brush it aside. Now isn't the time to dwell on it. There are more important things at hand.

Like the secrets this house is keeping from me.

"Alright," I say, trying to sound more confident than I'm feeling. "I'll go take a look upstairs."

They all nod, and I turn towards the staircase, feeling their eyes on me as I leave.

The staircase creaks beneath my feet as I make my way up to the next floor. The old wood groans with each step, but it feels sturdy—solid, as if the house itself is rooted deep into the ground, weathering everything that's come and gone.

Dust floats in the shafts of light filtering through the tall windows lining the landing, and I can smell the faint scent of age and wood, mixed with something else—magic, still pulsing beneath the surface like a heartbeat.

The second-floor hallway stretches out before me, lined with doors on either side. I push open the first one I come to, my hand hesitating briefly on the handle.

The room is large, bathed in muted light. A bedroom, clearly. The four-poster bed still has its tattered canopy, a rich burgundy fabric that's faded to a dull red over the years.

The bedspread is thick with dust, and a wardrobe stands against one wall, its door ajar. I cross the room, trailing my fingers along the bed's carved frame, and glance inside the wardrobe.

Old dresses hang there, draped in time, preserved like relics of the past. Some of them are elegant, fine materials woven with intricate designs.

It makes me wonder who lived here last. My ancestors, of course, but who exactly? And why did they leave?

I close the wardrobe and move to the vanity by the window. There's a mirror, tarnished with age, but it reflects my face well enough. I catch a glimpse of my eyes, and for a moment, I almost feel like someone else is staring back at me—someone older, wiser, with secrets I have yet to uncover.

With a sigh, I turn away from the room, closing the door softly behind me, and move to the next.

The second bedroom is much the same—smaller, simpler, but no less significant. A child's room. There are faded drawings on the walls, stick figures that look like they've been drawn by a young hand.

It's strange, seeing something so innocent in a house that feels so weighted with the past. The bed here is smaller, and there's a rocking horse in the corner, its paint chipped but the form still intact.

I run my fingers over the wood, feeling another pulse of magic through the grain. Whoever lived here, they were protected by this house, just as I am now.

I close the door behind me again, heart heavy with a strange kind of longing. It feels like I'm walking through the ghosts of my family—walking in their footsteps, but not quite belonging.

As I continue down the hall, I come to the third door, which leads into a study. This one feels different, more personal. The desk in the centre of the room is cluttered with old papers, books, and quills.

I step inside, picking up one of the books. It's a journal, though the writing is faded. I squint, trying to make out the words, but they're too far gone.

Still, I can feel the magic woven into the leather of the cover, ancient and powerful.

This room holds more weight than the others. It feels like decisions were made here—important ones. There's a map pinned to the wall, and I move closer to inspect it.

It's a detailed drawing of Spells Hollow, much like the map Kel showed me earlier, but older. There are markings on it, circles and runes sketched along the borders.

I trace my fingers over the lines, trying to make sense of it. What were they trying to protect?

The feeling of being watched returns, heavier this time, as if the air itself is holding its breath. I turn sharply, half-expecting to see someone standing in the doorway, but it's empty.

My heart races in my chest, but I push the feeling down. It's just the house—its memories, its magic. I'm alone.

But am I?

I leave the study and make my way further down the hall. One last door remains at the very end, and as I approach it, I intuitively know exactly where it leads.

The attic.

The final step in this strange journey through my family's past. My hand rests on the doorknob for a moment, feeling the cold metal beneath my fingers.

Something about this door feels different—more important, as if whatever is waiting for me beyond it holds the answers I've been searching for.

The staircase leading to the attic is narrow, steeper than the others. It creaks with each step, but this time, the sound echoes in the silence, almost like a warning.

The air grows colder the higher I climb, and when I reach the top, I'm met with another door—this one smaller, older, and locked.

I try the handle, but it doesn't budge. The lock is old, rusted, and I can't help but wonder what's on the other side. My pulse quickens as I press my ear to the door, but there's nothing.

No sound, no magic. Just an overwhelming sense of anticipation. I take a deep breath, stepping back from the door.

I'll need to find a way to unlock it. I know there's a key somewhere. There has to be. My family wouldn't leave this place without a way to access everything.

I scan the hallway once more, my gaze falling back toward the study. If there's any place a key would be kept, it's there.

Back in the study, I start opening drawers, pulling out old, brittle papers and ledgers that crumble at the edges. There's a strange sense of calm as I search, like the house itself is guiding me.

After a few moments, I find a small, brass key tucked into the back of one of the drawers, half-buried beneath loose parchment. It's heavier than it looks, the metal cool against my skin.

This has to be it.

Heart pounding, I hurry back along the corridor, aiming for the narrow staircase, the key clutched tightly in my hand.

Just as I reach the base of the stairs, a shadow shifts at the edge of my vision. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. The air around me thickens, and a chill runs down my spine as the dark figure steps out of the shadows.

It's him.

Ri.

Before I can react—before I can tell him off for scaring me—he moves swiftly, closing the distance between us. His hand grabs my wrist, and in one smooth motion, he pulls me against him.

His eyes, stormy and unreadable, bore into mine for the briefest moment before his lips crash down on mine.

The kiss is hard, urgent and demanding, sending a shockwave through my body. I'm too stunned to pull away, my heart racing in time with his erratic pulse.

There's no hesitation in him, no doubt. His mouth moves against mine with a possessive hunger, as if this moment has been brewing for far longer than I realised.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it's over. He pulls back, his breath warm against my lips as he mutters, "Didn't want an audience for our first kiss."

He releases me, stepping back with a smirk before turning and walking away, disappearing into the shadows as silently as he came.

I stand there, rooted to the spot, my body trembling, my mind spinning. My lips still tingle from the kiss, and a mix of confusion, anger, and something far more dangerous swirls inside me.

I clutch the brass key in my hand, my fingers shaking, my breath uneven. Everything feels off-kilter, as if the ground beneath me has shifted in ways I wasn't prepared for.

Shaken, I stare after him, heart pounding harder than ever.

When I reach the door again, I slide the key into the lock, and with a soft click, the door swings open. A gust of stale, cool air brushes past me, carrying with it the scent of old wood and something faintly herbal, like sage and lavender.

The space beyond is dim, but enough light filters through the small, round windows that I can see. The staircase continues upward, spiralling, leading to the highest point of the house—the tower I saw from the outside.

I follow it, each step feeling like I'm moving closer to something monumental, something sacred.

At the top, the narrow staircase opens into a large attic room—the sanctum.

The air here is thick with magic, an ancient, potent energy that hums through my veins the moment I step inside. It's like the entire room is alive, buzzing with the remnants of spells cast long ago.

The walls are lined with shelves, each filled with jars of dried herbs, potion bottles, and ancient-looking tomes. Crystals of all shapes and sizes catch the light from the windows, casting shimmering rainbows across the floor.

In the centre of the room stands a stone altar, smooth and dark, its surface littered with candles that have long since melted down to stubs.

There's an array of tools spread out—an athame, a wand, small cauldrons—and a thick, leather-bound book. My breath catches in my throat as I move closer, recognising the symbols etched into the cover.

The Book of Shadows. My family's book.

I run my fingers along the worn leather, feeling the power that pulses through it. It's warm to the touch, like the book itself is alive, waiting for me to unlock its secrets.

I flip open the cover, the pages brittle but intact, filled with handwritten spells, notes, and diagrams. Each entry is dated, some going back centuries. I skim through a few of the pages, seeing my family's history laid out before me in ink and magic.

There's something awe-inspiring about this place. It's as though I've stepped into a piece of my lineage that I never knew existed, a part of my family's soul that's been preserved just for me.

It feels right, like I'm meant to be here, like I belong.

Yet, beneath that sense of belonging is something else—a weight, a pressure that bears down on me as I stand before the altar. The weight of the curse. The weight of being the last Galdur.

It's almost suffocating, as if the magic in the room is trying to remind me of the task ahead. The deadline looms in the back of my mind, the constant reminder that if I don't succeed, everything will be lost.

I place the Book of Shadows gently back on the altar and glance around the room once more. Shelves of potions, ingredients, bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling beams, and candles scattered in every corner.

There are sigils carved into the stone floor, protective symbols, though some look faded and worn with time.

My eyes drift to the windows, small and circular, letting in beams of light that feel almost golden in the dusty air. From up here, I can see the whole of Spells Hollow, the woods beyond, the river winding through the land.

The view is breathtaking, serene. But as I stand here, soaking it all in, that feeling of being watched returns—stronger this time.

It prickles the back of my neck, sending a chill down my spine. I whirl around, half-expecting to find someone standing behind me, but the room is empty.

I'm alone.

A cold sweat breaks out along my skin as I move to the window, trying to shake the feeling. The house might be safe, but something out there isn't. I can sense it.

I place my hand on the glass, staring out at the horizon.

Maybe I should take the Book of Shadows back to the motel with me. I'll need time to read through its pages, and I don't want to keep the guys waiting too long.

The thought of leaving this place, though—leaving behind the magic that pulses in every stone—feels wrong. Like I'm abandoning something sacred. But I don't have time to dwell. If I'm going to break the curse, I need answers, and fast.

Carefully, I pick up the book, holding it to my chest. It's heavier than I expected, its power almost tangible in my hands. The warmth of the leather seeps through my fingers as I close my eyes, letting the ancient magic of my ancestors settle over me.

There's an energy here that feels both comforting and terrifying, a reminder that I am the last of the Galdurs.

I turn away from the altar, heading back down the spiralling stairs. The weight of the book is a constant presence, like it knows how important it is to me, to all of this.

Each step echoes in the quiet, the only sound my boots against the worn wood. It's strange how much this place feels like home, even though I've never been here before.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, that creeping sensation of being watched prickles the back of my neck again. I freeze, clutching the book tighter.

There's no one here, no sound but the faint rustling of leaves outside and the distant creak of old wood. Still, the air feels thick with something unseen, something that watches from the shadows.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the unease. "You're just being paranoid, Swyn," I mutter under my breath, pushing open the door to the second floor and stepping back into the hallway.

The guys are downstairs, their voices muted but distinct, a comforting reminder that I'm not completely alone. They must be going through the rest of the house, making sure everything's still in one piece.

I need to focus on the task at hand—breaking this curse. There's no time to let paranoia or fear cloud my judgement.

I descend the final staircase, the smell of old wood and dust filling my lungs as I pass through the parlour. The fire in the hearth catches my attention again—burnt down to ashes, yet still smouldering faintly, as though someone had been here recently.

Someone other than us.

Shaking off the feeling, I move to the kitchen. The conservatory catches my eye again as I walk past. The shelves filled with jars, plants, and herbs remind me of an apothecary, perfectly preserved, like a time capsule of everything my family practised.

Will I find answers in there? I'll come back to explore it later.

But right now, I need to get out of here.

The front door creaks as I pull it open, the sound of birdsong and wind in the trees, filling my ears as I step outside. The weight of the house's magic lingers in the air, clinging to my skin like a second layer. I take a deep breath, closing the door behind me with a soft thud.

"Swyn?" Kel's voice calls out from the side of the house. "Everything alright?"

I nod, even though he can't see me from where he's standing. "Yeah, I'm coming," I reply, glancing down at the book in my arms. I need to focus on what's in here, on what it can tell me. The sooner I can figure this out, the sooner I can make sure everyone is safe.

Kel, Ri, and Sol are waiting near the front garden, their eyes scanning the woods and the surrounding area. As I approach, Kel raises an eyebrow at the book in my hands.

"Found something?"

"The Book of Shadows," I say, holding it up. "It's… well, it's everything. I think it might have the answers I need. But I'll need time to go through it."

Sol glances at Ri, then back at me. "You want to take it with you?"

I nod. "I'll take it back to the motel, give it a read there. No point dragging you all through this dusty old house while I sit and study."

Ri frowns, his gaze lingering on the book before shifting back to me. There's something in his expression—concern, maybe—but he says nothing. Instead, he gestures at the path.

"Let's get moving, then. We shouldn't linger too long."

Kel chuckles softly, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah, no telling what else might be lurking around here."

I feel a flicker of guilt. They've done so much for me already, yet here I am, dragging them through this mess. But I push that thought aside. This curse isn't just my burden—it could affect all of us if I don't stop it.

We walk back to the truck, the woods quiet around us, but my senses are still on high alert.

That's when I sense it. The air shifts, growing cold, unnaturally still. My breath catches in my throat as the familiar weight of dark magic presses against my chest.

I stop, my heart pounding in my ears. A presence—shadowed and menacing—lurks just beyond the treeline, barely visible but undeniably there. My eyes scan the woods, searching, but all I see are shadows dancing in the fading light.

"Wait," I whisper, barely able to get the word out. "Do you feel that?"

Kel is the first to react. His body tenses beside me, and his gaze snaps towards the darkness. Ri is already moving, positioning himself between me and the woods, his hand raised as if he can somehow sense what's coming.

Sol's eyes narrow, lips pulled into a grim line. There's no need for words. They know.

Without warning, a figure steps out from the shadows. Cloaked in darkness, its form is barely discernible, but the magic it emanates is unmistakable—foul, oppressive, like the very air around it is rotting. I take a step back, my instincts screaming at me to run, but there's nowhere to go. The figure moves slowly, deliberately, the ground beneath its feet withering as it approaches.

"Get behind us," Kel growls, his voice low and rough.

I can't tear my eyes away from the figure. Its presence fills the air with dread, but there's something almost familiar about it. The way the magic twists and coils, like a snake ready to strike.

"Now!" Ri barks, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I stumble back, clutching the Book of Shadows tightly to my chest as Kel, Sol, and Ri move in front of me. Their bodies ripple with energy, their shifting forms flickering like smoke before solidifying.

I've seen them shift before, but this time it's different. There's a fluidity, a synchronisation in their movements that I've never witnessed.

The three of them meld together, their bodies shifting into one massive form—a single, monstrous creature with three heads and a body built like a fortress.

A Cerberus.

Holy shit.

The ground trembles beneath its weight, and its dark fur bristles with barely contained fury. Three sets of eyes gleam with a primal, protective instinct, each pair trained on the shadowed figure, watching its every move.

The figure pauses, as if reassessing the situation. The tension crackles in the air, the dark magic swirling like a storm ready to break.

The creature, this Cerberus that is somehow my protectors fused into one, lets out a low, rumbling growl that shakes the earth. Each head bares its teeth, a terrifying display of strength and warning.

But the figure doesn't retreat. Instead, it raises an arm, the shadows around it thickening, curling toward us like tendrils of smoke. The magic it wields is dark, older than anything I've ever felt before.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I take another step back, but I refuse to run. I can't leave them—my mates—alone to face this.

The Cerberus snarls, all three heads in unison, and charges. The ground quakes beneath its massive paws as it launches itself at the figure, and the dark tendrils lash out to meet them.

Magic clashes against magic in an explosion of power, the very air vibrating with the force of it. The figure stumbles back, clearly not expecting the full might of a Cerberus.

The creature—my creature—snaps and bites at the tendrils, tearing through the dark magic as if it were nothing more than fog. I watch, breathless, as the battle unfolds.

The figure begins to retreat, its shadowy form dissolving into the darkness from which it came.

Within moments, the threat is gone, leaving nothing but the eerie silence of the woods. The Cerberus stands motionless for a heartbeat, staring at me with all three heads cocked to the side which is eerie and disconcerting.

I shake trying to take in everything I just witnessed. Then, slowly, the massive form begins to break apart. In a swirl of energy, Kel, Sol, and Ri re-emerge, their human forms solidifying once again, each of them panting from the exertion.

Kel wipes his brow, throwing me a half-smile.

"Well, that was fun."

I try to catch my breath, but my hands are shaking, my pulse still racing from the encounter. "What the hell was that?" I manage to ask, my voice shaky.

"We're shifters - you know that," Sol explains. "But together we form a?—"

"Cerberus. Yep. Got that bit," I snark. "I mean, what the hell was that trying to attack us?"

Ri steps forward, his expression grim. "Someone—or something—is watching you. And they're getting bold enough to come out in the open."

"Whoever it is," Sol adds, his voice low, "they're using some seriously dark magic."

I swallow hard, my gaze shifting between them. "I think we need to get out of here."

Kel nods, placing a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "We will. But first, let's make sure you're safe."

"Me? I'm fine. What about the three of you?"

"Most fun I've had in ages," Ri mutters.

"That's cause you've not taken our girl here out on date yet, brother," Kel replies cheerily, slapping Ri on the back, which makes him scowl even more.

I bite back a smile, though it's hardly a laughing matter. We were just attacked by something dark, and I'm fated to three guys who can morph into a three headed dog.

Fuck. Deep breaths, Swyn. You've got this.

"Is there a different route we can take back to the car? I don't fancy heading that way." I glance back at the woods, the dark magic still lingering in the air, and then at the three of them, my protectors.

The sense of danger is far from over, but for now, at least, we've survived.

"Yeah follow me," Sol says, shifting into his dog form once more.

"Don't expect me to pick up your poo," I mutter, shifting the heavy book under my arm and falling into step beside Kel.

Once we're back to the truck, I settle into my seat, the Book of Shadows resting on my lap. I can feel its warmth again, pulsing faintly, like it's alive.

Like it's waiting for me to open it and uncover the secrets within.

And I will.

Because I have no choice.