Chapter 5
Chapter 5
T he cottage looked smaller than I remembered. The thatched roof sagged slightly, and the smoke curling from the chimney was faint, almost hesitant, like it had been waiting too long for someone to come home. My boots crunched against the gravel path as I approached the door, and I paused, my hand resting on the worn wood.
It felt strange to be here. To be back after everything.
The bond pulsed faintly in my chest, a steady, rhythmic reminder of her—of the Harpy. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was like a thread wound tight around my heart, tugging gently with every beat, pulling me back to where she waited.
But I pushed it aside. For now.
I opened the door, the familiar creak echoing through the quiet house. “Ma?” I called out, my voice cracking slightly.
Her voice came from the bedroom, weak but clear. “Locke? Is that you?”
I dropped my pack by the door, the sound of it hitting the floor barely registering as I crossed the room in a few quick strides. My chest tightened the moment I saw her. She was sitting up in bed, her face pale and her breathing shallow, every movement weaker than I remembered.
The sight of her hit harder than I’d expected. She looked... smaller somehow, more fragile, like the time I’d spent away had chipped away at what little strength she had left. Guilt clawed at my chest, sharp and unrelenting. I should’ve been here. I should’ve found a way to fix this sooner.
But then her eyes lit up when she saw me, a faint spark of life breaking through the haze of exhaustion. “You’re back,” she said, her voice trembling.
And just like that, the weight in my chest shifted. Relief, raw and unsteady, fought its way through the guilt. Everything I’d endured to get here, everything I’d given up—it was all worth it if I could save her.
“I told you I’d come back,” I said, forcing a smile as I knelt beside her. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the small vial the Harpy had given me, along with the necklace I’d fashioned with one of her feathers, its edges shimmering faintly with an otherworldly light.
“This will help,” I said, holding up the relic. “It’s not just the concoction—it’s this, too. The feather holds the magic. You’ll need to wear it.”
She looked at the vial and necklace, her brow furrowing slightly. “What is it?” she asked, her voice soft.
“It’s... complicated,” I said. “But it will work. Just trust me.”
She nodded, her hands trembling as she took the necklace. I slipped it over her head, and the feather rested against her chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I uncorked the vial and held it to her lips. “Drink,” I said. “All of it.”
She hesitated but obeyed, the dark liquid sliding down her throat in a single swallow. Her face twisted at the taste, and she coughed, clutching at the necklace. “Locke—” she started, but then her body stiffened, and a shudder ran through her.
I froze, panic clawing at my chest, but then the color began to return to her face. Her breathing steadied, her trembling stopped, and she blinked up at me, her eyes wide with wonder.
“I feel...” She paused, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I feel better. I feel... alive.”
Relief washed over me, so strong it left me lightheaded. I sank back on my heels, my hands trembling. “I told you,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I told you I’d fix this.”
She reached out, her hand brushing against my cheek. “You did,” she said. “But, Locke... what did it cost you?”
By breath caught in my throat. I wasn’t expecting her to just know . But then, she was my mother—she always knew me best. I looked away, the bond tightening again, a silent reminder of what waited for me. “It doesn’t matter,” I said finally. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she said softly, her voice sharper now. “What did you give up?”
I hesitated, my hand brushing against the mark on my chest where the Harpy’s claws had sealed the bond. “Everything,” I said finally. “I gave up everything.”
Her fingers tightened painfully around mine as her eyes welled with tears. “You can’t stay, can you?”
I shook my head. “No. But I’ll come back. I’ll... write, or find a way to visit. I promise.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and I could see her swallow hard. “Just make sure it’s worth it, Locke. Whatever you gave up, make sure it’s worth it.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what to say. “It is,” I said finally. “And it always will be.”
The woods were quiet as I made my way back to the Harpy’s domain. The bond pulled me forward, a steady, unrelenting force that made it impossible to linger anywhere else. The cottage was behind me now, fading into the distance, and with every step I took, the air grew heavier, darker.
She was waiting when I arrived. Perched on the same stone pillar, her wings folded behind her, her glowing eyes fixed on me. Her lips curved into a faint smile as I stepped into the clearing, and the bond pulsed sharply in my chest.
“You returned,” she said, her voice lilting, almost teasing. It was like she was expecting me to try to turn my back on her after I got what I wanted. My new mate didn’t know me yet. What was the point of running?
“The lamb has wandered home again,
to shadows deep
and Harpy’s den.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” I said, though the words lacked bite.
Her wings shifted as she descended, landing gracefully in front of me. Her claws brushed lightly against my chest, tracing the mark she’d left there and was hidden by my clothes. “And yet,” she murmured, her voice dipping into something softer, “you came willingly.”
I met her gaze, my heart steady now. “I did.”
Her smile widened, her wings folding behind her as she stepped closer. Her claws lingered against my chest, her eyes burning into mine. “You are bound to me now,” she said, her voice a low, throaty purr. “Heart, blood, and soul. Do not forget that.”
I swallowed, my chest tightening as her words pressed against the bond between us, steady and unyielding. I already knew what I was—what I’d become. Her claws lingered against my chest, a silent reminder of the choice I’d made, the one I’d never regret. “I won’t.”
Her laughter was soft, sharp, and strangely comforting. “Good,” she sang, her song having a bite to it. Her claws pressed against my skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point clear. “Because I would never let you.”