Chapter 47 Liam #3
“That,” the Fetch purrs, “was crafted by your father after the night of the fire. A punishment. A leash. A vow.” It leans closer, empty sockets inches from mine. “Two souls tied as one. When one bleeds, the other weakens. When one dies…” A smile pulls across its torn mouth. “The other does too.”
The world tilts under me, a slow, sickening roll.
The Fetch continues, savoring the moment. “Ares’s mother’s murder was the catalyst. Such a shame, watching her burn like that. Your father saw the raw force Ares unleashed that night, and he decided to harness it. Turn the boy into a weapon for your mistakes. His first true servant.”
“That wasn’t Ares’s mother,” I whisper, heart pounding. “It was Sebastian and Anne’s parents. It’s always been-”
The Fetch erupts into laughter, sharp and delighted.
“Oh, you stupid, stupid child.” The sound scrapes across my nerves.
“Think. For once in your cursed life, think. How does someone have years of memories with another person unless they lived them? Why do you believe the Parker boy claws at your memory like a dying man reaching for air? Why do things in your life fall into place with such unnatural ease? Why Vireldan? Why him? Why any of it?”
My breath falters. The photo flashes in my mind, five teenagers locked together in joy, Ares’s arm around me like it belonged there.
“What about Theo?” I try, my voice barely sound.
“The brother’s lover?” The Fetch scoffs. “Your father regrets never binding those two. A unity tie between them would have simplified things.” Its head twitches. “But he cannot rewrite every mistake. Only the ones that matter.”
“Ares and me-” The words scrape up my throat, fragile and trembling, but the Fetch slices through them with grotesque enthusiasm.
“Were together? Yes. For years,” it says, its satisfaction almost intimate.
“Some would argue you still are, since you never actually chose to part. He was your other half long before your father decided to carve your lives into pieces. The night of the fire… ah, such chaos. His mother spoke out of turn. Your father ended her. Snapped her life in front of him like a twig. Ares lost control, attacked your father, the first and only to ever draw Shadeborne blood. And Andrew, in all his brilliance, saw exactly what he could exploit. The boy’s love for you.
” The Fetch leans closer, gloating. “A leash, made from devotion so deep even death couldn’t sever it.
And you-” its smile stretches, cruel and delighted “-you walk around believing the memories he left you with belong to someone else.”
My pulse slams against my skull. “What are you saying?” My mind throbs, the block screaming, begging me to stop before I pull out something forbidden.
“There is only one person in that cabin who is new to you,” it whispers. “You just don’t know it yet.”
Sebastian’s image flashes across my mind. My breath fractures on instinct. I look up sharply, panic forming a noose.
“Someone in there is working with my father?” My voice is a cracked whisper, but the Fetch’s grin widens like splitting skin.
“How do you think I found you?” it hisses. “You still believe all this is your father’s orchestration alone?”
My stomach drops. The blood in my veins feels cold.
“The memories felt so real.” The confession escapes me on a shaking inhale, but the creature laughs, a sound like bones snapping underfoot.
“Oh, child. You should know better than anyone.” Its face inches closer. “Never trust your own memories.”
Pain detonates in my skull. I clutch my head, trying to hold the pieces together.
“The story,” I gasp through clenched teeth, recalling Ares’s voice, the ache in it, the plea woven between the lines. “The raven… that was us. He-” My voice fails. I try again. “My father took him from me. Replaced him. Rewrote him.”
“And who,” the Fetch breathes against my ear, “do you think gave him the idea?”
Everything inside me freezes. The creature drags a single claw down my spine, laughing, savoring how the truth shatters through me.
Then...impact.
A violent thud echoes through the trees.
The Fetch jerks forward with a strangled shriek.
Althea appears behind it, hair wild, eyes burning, stabbing downward with feral precision.
Ares crashes into the monster next, ripping it from her grip and yanking it into his own.
His rage is incandescent. He pins the creature beneath him and tears into it with raw, desperate violence, clawing at its face with his bare hands.
Every strike is personal. Every blow is history.
The Fetch convulses, its death cry rattling the air. Liam collapses to his knees as the spell on him breaks, Theo hauling him up with shaky arms. The world feels tilted, too small, too loud, too fast. My lungs seize. My thoughts dissolve into static.
Someone grabs me, hands on my arms, hauling me upright. Sebastian. His voice is soft, coaxing, strangling me with care I cannot trust anymore. “Harper, it’s okay, I’m here-”
“Please, Sebastian,” I choke out, jerking away from him, panic clawing at my ribs. “Let me go-”
“I’m trying to help,” he insists, tightening his hold.
A hand lands on his shoulder.
Ares.
Then chaos. Ares rips Sebastian away from me, slamming him into the ground with a snarl.
His face is streaked with blood, his hands torn and raw, his body trembling with fury.
Sebastian shoves back and they crash into each other, two forces colliding with enough heat to burn the forest down.
Althea lunges between them, trying to pull Ares off.
Theo cries out. Liam’s breathing is still uneven. Everything spirals.
And then, the world narrows.
A cold arm hooks around my throat.
Not rough.
Not clumsy.
Purposeful.
Terrifyingly familiar.
Scars brush my skin.
A scent I know far too well chokes the air.
Everyone freezes. Ares goes rigid. Sebastian’s face drains of color. Liam lets out a broken noise. Theo covers his mouth.
“Your thoughts are so loud, my dear,” my father murmurs behind me, voice soft as poison. “You practically called me to you.”
The forest itself seems to recoil.
He points a finger over my shoulder, straight at Ares and Sebastian, both boys suddenly stricken with utter confusion, horror rippling through them.
“I told you to stop her from remembering,” he says, voice lowering into disappointment.
They don’t understand.
I do.
And the realization almost kills me.
“Shame,” my father sighs, turning me in his arms, forcing me to look into eyes darker and older than the ones in my memories. A cruel smile carves itself across his face.
“Now no one gets you but me.”
The world collapses into darkness.