Chapter 5
I walked for hours, crossing the lush, untamed forest of Eldaerenth, which stretched across all of Ceilte like a vast green mantle until it kissed the mountain ranges of An Teallach.
The deeper I ventured into the woods, the quieter and more dangerous my journey became.
The trees grew taller and more imposing, their trunks wide enough that it would take ten large Fae to encircle them.
Some of them had bark dark enough to melt into the shadows, while others bore leaves in the strangest shapes.
Their canopies, dense as the webs of the giant spiders that dwelt in the caves of An Teallach, wove together tightly, allowing only the faintest traces of moonlight to pierce through.
Fortunately, since my body changed, my night vision has sharpened.
I could see every stone and twisted root in my path, no matter how dark it was.
I tried not to think about all the dangerous creatures that might be lurking nearby.
Every so often, I could hear leaves rustling or a branch snapping, but so far, nothing had emerged to meet me.
It was a relief, yet I knew exactly what a silent forest meant. I was walking on the hunting grounds of a predator.
Suddenly, the Orb of Caith in my hand hummed, warm against my palm. Its green glow flared, directing me to a single spot: the edge of a narrow stream winding between thick, gnarled roots.
I followed the pull, my heart hammering in my chest. Instinct screamed at me to turn back, but stubbornness drove me forward. If the Orb brought me here, there must be a reason.
When I reached the bank, I stopped. The water was so clear I could see the stones and crystals scattered along the bed. A breeze drifted through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, but what truly stole my breath was the reflection staring back at me.
I stepped closer, unable to look away. The trembling surface distorted my features, though not enough to conceal the monstrosity that now wore my face.
I nearly recoiled.
The delicate, beautiful features I once possessed were twisted into something ripped from my nightmares.
My green skin clashed harshly with my dark, wavy blonde hair.
My blue eyes seemed unnaturally large, and my lips, once full and naturally pink, had faded to a dark green—tiny fangs jutted from them, sharp and gleaming like needles.
Every detail was a cruel reminder of who I had been and who I was meant to be.
Princess Fiona, the most radiant flower of Ceilte, raised to be graceful and flawless, no longer existed.
Where she once stood, a grotesque creature now emerged, caught in the limbo of two worlds that would never accept her.
I lifted trembling fingers to my face, as if touching my own skin could somehow reveal a trace of the High Fae I had been before Merith’s curse. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it all to be a cruel illusion, but when I opened them again, the face staring back at me hadn’t changed.
“What did I do to deserve this?” I whispered, my voice the only sound in the silent forest.
The stream continued to flow, indifferent to my plight.
A drop fell onto the surface of the water, distorting my reflection once more.
Only when another fell, and then another, did I realize I was crying.
Thick, heavy tears rolled down my green skin and disappeared into the stream, joining the infinite droplets of water.
I let them fall for a while, each tear loosening the tight knot lodged in my throat. I had no sense of time as I knelt in the soaked earth, breathing in shallow, trembling gasps, the world shrinking to the narrow space between one sob and the next.
When the last tear fell, I pushed myself upright, splashing cold water over my face and washing away every trace of weakness. This would be the last time I mourned my appearance or the life I had lost. From now on, only one path remained: survive this curse—and then find Merith and make her pay.
I straightened, drawing a deep breath when a terrible, piercing howl ripped through the forest.
The sound came so suddenly that my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. It vibrated through my bones, echoed off the trees, and made the stream’s surface shiver.
I recognized that howl. Though I had only joined a few hunts with my father and brother, I would have recognized a dùthragh’s cry from miles away.
The magical wolf was a herald of death, his ghostly wail leaving no survivors. Judging by the sound, he was close.
My body moved before my mind could catch up. I sprang to my feet so quickly I nearly slipped in the mud, my heartbeat thundering loud enough for the creature to sense.
Driven by pure instinct, I bolted from the sound, pouring every ounce of strength into my legs.
My longer strides carried me across the stream, and I vaulted over a fallen trunk with an ease that still surprised me.
The forest blurred around me as the tattered remains of my gown whipped against my thighs, and air tore in and out of my lungs.
Unfortunately, the dùthragh was faster, quickly closing the distance between us.
Heavy paws tore through the underbrush behind me, the thick stench of musk and wild beast filling the air.
He was too close. I couldn’t keep running mindlessly.
The dùthragh hunted with ruthless patience; if I didn’t find a way to shake it, he would catch me and tear me apart like a helpless lamb.
I needed a place to hide, somewhere I could catch him off guard.
My eyes swept the forest, searching for a hollow between the trees, a cave, or a large rock—but the dense, dark woods offered no refuge.
Just as I was about to give up and run for my life, I spotted the thick, twisted roots of an ancient oak.
Too small for a proper hiding spot, but it would have to do.
In a single, desperate motion, I dove toward the roots, curling myself into the hollow.
Goddess Danu, I begged silently. Help me.
Magic surged from my fingertips into the earth.
The roots around me stirred, slowly at first, then faster, twisting and weaving together until they formed a thick barrier.
I closed my eyes, focusing all my energy, shaping the soil and roots into a green fortress—a hidden underground chamber that swallowed me completely from view.
The sliding of paws on the dirt fell silent. A stench of old, rotting blood hit my nose, making me gag as the dùthragh stood just beyond the roots, waiting.
I held my breath, forcing my racing heart to slow. The dagger Kristan had given me pressed against my chest, ready in case the beast detected me. His hulking frame approached the oak, muscles rippling under matted fur as he sniffed the air, hunting for the slightest trace of me.
One minute passed. Two. Three.
A frustrated growl cut through the silence, followed by the sound of paws retreating. I exhaled in a long, shaky sigh, feeling the adrenaline drain from my body, leaving me boneless.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the roots that had shielded me, letting the magic slip away.
The tangled green walls slowly receded, unveiling the forest once more. I stepped out cautiously, scanning the area, but there was no sign of the dùthragh. The Orb of Caith flared to life in my hand, its green glow so fierce that I had to blink rapidly to clear my vision.
I pushed myself to my feet, brushed the dirt from my body, and continued forward, taking the lightest steps I could muster in this oversized body.
No sooner had I taken a step than a low growl rolled through the air. I froze, holding my breath. From behind a massive dark trunk emerged a creature the size of a bull, moss-green fur blending seamlessly with the forest as two crimson eyes burned in the darkness like embers.
The dùthragh had the body of a common wolf, his pointed ears turned in my direction, catching every sound I made, including my erratic heartbeat. His mouth opened slowly, revealing rows of long, sharp teeth. The growl deepened, pulsing through the air with magic.
I took a step back, bumping into a thick tree trunk, my mind spinning as I scrambled for memories of hunts with my father. He had always said that when a dùthragh found you, there were only two options.
The dùthragh was a herald of death—three howls, and you were finished.
Flee before the third, and you might survive.
When my father had told Leone and me this, I’d thought it was simple: Just run and hide.
But now, staring into the beast’s glowing eyes, my legs betrayed me, locked in place as fear rooted me to the forest floor.
The wolf crept closer, wary but not yet attacking. I needed to get out of there before he howled again. I refused to die in the middle of this forest, alone and wearing a different face.
Swallowing the fear clawing at my throat, I forced my feet to obey as I took careful step to the side, eyes locked on his smoldering red gaze. He mirrored me, a guttural growl vibrating through his chest, muscles coiled and shoulders tensed, ready to strike.
It was now or never.
My long-dormant survival instinct, buried beneath years of life as a princess, snapped awake.
I launched myself in the opposite direction of the dùthragh, sprinting with every ounce of strength I had.
The ground trembled beneath his weight, and I could feel his hot, fetid breath on my heels—so close he seemed ready to snap at my ankles.
Damn it!
I weaved through the forest, dodging trunks and roots on my way. He might be faster, but I was more agile. Branches tore at my skin and leaves slapped my face, yet I pressed on. My breath came in ragged pants, my heart hammering like it might burst. Behind me, the snarls drew ever closer.
Before I could get far, the wolf knocked me down, his claws tearing through the rest of my dress and the skin beneath. An agonizing cry escaped me as the pain hit with the strength of a thousand sharp swords.
I struggled to push him away, but the beast was too strong.
His teeth closed in on my neck, the stench of blood and rot making me gag.
In that moment, all I could see was my mother’s face.
If I died here, she would never forgive me.
Her words—the ones she always used to calm me when I was angry with Father or Leone—echoed in my mind:
A Kerridan never bows her head. To anyone.
Drawing strength from the memory, I let out a grunt and, summoning the last of my energy, willed the roots of the surrounding trees to move. A thick, twisted root shot into my peripheral vision. It wouldn’t be enough to kill the dùthragh, but it could buy me a moment.
The root struck with a dry snap, sending the beast sprawling several yards until his massive body collided with a tree trunk. Pain shot through my back as I staggered upright. The forest tilted around me, and I pressed my hands into the ground to steady myself.
The dùthragh rose, more terrifying than ever. His green fur bristled like twisted needles, his jaws stretched wide to reveal unnaturally long teeth, and his red, hungry eyes burned with a supernatural glow.
I should have been trembling with fear, begging for mercy—but instead, fury consumed me. Done with this wretched day, I lifted my chin and bared my fangs at the beast.
“If you think I’ll submit to you,” I hissed, “you’re gravely mistaken.”
Adrenaline surged through me. I clenched the dagger and forced myself upright, legs trembling like a newborn calf. Every muscle screamed in protest, but I rose anyway, gasping, my back ablaze and my vision wavering.
The beast slammed a massive paw against the ground, as if sensing I wouldn’t be easy prey. His jaws opened wide, chest rumbling. My blood ran cold as I realized it was preparing for the third, fatal howl.
Before it could unleash the howl, a thunderous roar tore through the forest, yanking his attention away. The red eyes flared even brighter, and the beast pivoted toward the sound, ignoring me.
Still half-dizzy, I barely made out a towering silhouette emerging from the trees, wielding an axe larger than I was, held at the ready. The newcomer advanced toward the wolf with confidence, fearless and unyielding.
He was huge. Taller and much more muscular than I was in my current form, with leaf-green skin, long black hair tied in braids decorated with small bone beads. Thick leather armor hugged his massive frame, while scarred, tattooed arms wielded a battle-axe like it was a toy.
He was, without a doubt, an orc. Instinct made me step back—the axe looked capable of separating my head from my body in a single swing. Yet the orc barely spared me a glance, his attention fixed entirely on the dùthragh.
He didn’t hesitate. With a fierce growl that sent shivers down my spine, he swung the axe above his head as if it were weightless.
The massive blade arced toward the wolf’s neck.
In a flash, the creature dodged, and the axe slammed into the ground with a muted thud.
Undeterred, the orc pulled it back and struck again.
I could do nothing but stare, stunned, as the brutal fight played out before me.
Despite being a mountain of muscle, the orc moved with uncanny agility, dodging every lunge the wolf threw at him.
The scent of wet earth and the beast’s musk hung thick in the air.
With a guttural sound, he pivoted, swinging his axe with precision, forcing the dùthragh to retreat.
Furious at being cornered, the wolf leaped, claws outstretched, aiming straight for the orc’s broad chest.
Instead of dodging, the orc let out a raspy, predatory laugh and, to my shock, thrust his arm straight into the wolf’s path. His fangs sank deep into his forearm, dark green blood spurting instantly and staining his leather armor. The orc didn’t even flinch.
With the dùthragh clamped onto his arm, he swung the axe with the other. The blade sank into the wolf’s side with a sickening, wet crack. The beast howled in pain—a guttural sound unlike his deadly howl before—and thrashed violently, desperate to break free.
The orc didn’t release his hold. With his wounded hand, he seized the wolf’s neck and lifted him off the ground. The dùthragh, once an unstoppable force, now thrashed uselessly in the orc’s iron grip.
Then, with one final roar, the orc bared his fangs and, in a display of brute strength that made my bones shake, crushed the wolf’s throat with a single hand.
The herald of death fell silent; his red eyes went dull, and the body went limp in the orc’s grip.
He drew a deep, ragged breath, chest rising and falling heavily, and finally turned to me.
My heart froze. In a moment that felt like a dark comedic play, my vision blurred, and the last thing I saw was the orc letting out a huff.