Malik's POV
Luna ended the call abruptly. A part of me seethed. I wanted—no, needed—to hear her voice for just a moment longer. The delicate cadence of her words, the way my name sounded when she spoke it. That fragile connection was all I had left. But I knew. In exactly two days and thirteen hours, our paths would cross. And she would finally be safe in my arms. I sent her updates relentlessly. Text after text. A reminder that I was coming. That I was close. But nothing. Not a single reply. Not even a damn read receipt. The silence gnawed at me, more vicious than any wound. I told myself she had turned off her phone, maybe to conserve battery, maybe to keep herself hidden. But something gnawed at me. A festering unease in the pit of my stomach. A whisper of dread curling through my veins. And then the two days passed. I called. Again. And again.
No answer.
By the time I pulled into the gas station parking lot—the agreed meeting place—my nerves were raw. My pulse pounded behind my eyes as I climbed out of the car, my hands twitching, fingers flexing restlessly. My eyes darted around, hoping to see them, they weren't here, maybe the trees? The world blurred around me, my focus narrowing to one desperate thought—where was she? The air smelled of gasoline and damp earth, but none of it masked the gnawing absence of her scent. My eyes darted toward the treeline, scanning for movement, waiting for a familiar figure to emerge. Waiting to smell her. But there was nothing. The world was too quiet. An unnatural, suffocating stillness. A chill slithered down my spine. Something was wrong. I raced for the tree line and shed my human skin, tearing my clothes in the process, embracing the primal strength of my wolf. The shift was instantaneous, bones snapping, muscles contorting, fur bursting through my skin. My paws hit the dirt, and I tore through the forest, following the route I knew she had to planned to take. The sun dipped below the horizon. Then hours bled into the next day. Still nothing. And then—the smell. A stench so foul it clawed at my nostrils. Putrid. Rancid. My stomach twisted violently. I followed it. My nose stuck in the dirt. I came upon a small clearing. The trees were all scorched, blackened husks standing like grave markers. The grass beneath them had been charred, the earth split and cracked from extreme heat. Ash drifted in the air, carried by a breeze that reeked of death. My lips peeled back into a snarl. The scent hit me all at once—burned flesh.
Audra. No, he wouldn't kill her, Luna. Luna. My rage simmered, only for a second. Greif washing over me. He had killed her. Burned her to ash. I let out a sorrowful howl. I must continue on. I still couldn't smell Audra. A guttural growl tore from my throat as I scoured the scene, sniffing frantically, searching—praying. There. Her scent. Faint. Almost buried beneath the stench of carnage. My claws raked through the earth as I chased that fleeting trace, my breath ragged with desperation. And then I saw it—a jagged stone jutting from the earth, its edge glistening in the dim light. Red. A drop. Another. A dark smear. I didn't have to smell it to know. Audra's blood. A deep, shuddering growl escaped me. She was here. She was hurt. And she was gone. I stood there, staring at the crimson stain like it held the answers I needed. My breath came in ragged snarls, my body trembling with the effort to keep myself from losing control. I forced myself to inhale. For now. I latched onto those words like a lifeline. She is alive. She has to be. But the rage in my chest burned hotter than the scorched remains around me.
Acheron.
I will find him. I will rip him apart.
And by the time I'm finished, his head will be on a spike.
Sylvin's POV
Acheron and Audra returned hours later, her clothes drenched, water dripping from the ends of her hair. She looked exhausted, her expression tight, her arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold in her own warmth. Her usual fire was absent, replaced by something raw—something shaken. I glanced at Acheron, silently questioning him, but he only offered a small, knowing smirk as he passed by. Something about it sent unease crawling down my spine. I followed them upstairs, watching as he escorted Audra to her room. He murmured something low in her ear before shutting the door, leaving her alone. Then, without a word, he turned and strode toward his office, expecting me to follow. Once inside, he moved behind his desk, settling into his chair with a casual ease that didn't match the weight in the air. The only sound was the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the polished wood. Then, finally, he spoke. "I threw her in the lake." My body stiffened. "What?" He twirled a pencil between his fingers, eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I had to know if Nixthul would reach out to her. She tried to last time Audra fell in.".My pulse quickened. "And?" Acheron leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head, the very image of self-satisfaction. But beneath the amusement, something sharper lurked. Calculated. Dangerous. "I think we have our answer." A cold weight settled in my stomach. "You mean she—?" He waved a hand dismissively. "We'll see soon enough." The words were light, almost careless, but I knew better. He wouldn't have done this unless he was certain. Which meant that Nixthul had, in some way, responded. My mind raced. "We're moving up the ritual," he said, his face turning serious. I furrowed my brows. "What? Why?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. He looked at me sharply. "I just told you, Sylvin. Do I need to spell it out?" I clenched my jaw and shook my head. "No." "Good. We're done here." Dismissed, I wandered to the gardens, sitting by the koi pond. Out of the faint corner of my eye, I saw her—on the other side of the water.
Audra's POV
After Acheron left me in the room, I immediately went for a shower. That lake water was disgusting. But it was who was in the lake that made my mind reel. What did she mean? Didn't steal? And not worthy? I watched her, in a vision of the past. She absorbed Mallory's magic. Draining her, killing her slowly. How is that not stealing? She said she was a water demon? What gives her the right to decide who is worthy? The only way for me to know would be to ask her. I finished my shower and threw on some sweats and a hoodie. My footsteps echoed on the stone stairs as I made my way down to the garden. The sun was just now starting to rise, painting the sky in gorgeous hues of violet, gold, and orange. I sat by the Koi, tracing my now red and peeling finger across the surface of the water. "Go forth, little tide. Grab hold of your destiny." Her voice—gentle, carried on the breeze, it startled me, slightly. Nixthul? Suddenly small tendrils of water coiled up my hand, pulsing with brilliant blue hues. The water was healing me. I gently placed my other hand in the water, it wapped around it, enveloping it, healing it. I inspected my hands, and cried. They were almost fully healed.
I'm going to live, Luna. For you.