26. Chapter 26
26
Chapter 26
Bronwen
Adar’s concern for my appearance did nothing but irk my nerves. I should have been thankful he didn’t notice anything else—the shadows of my secrets that clung to me, threatening to unravel at any moment. What I did. What I kept hidden. But leave it to Adar to make me want to punch him in the face instead of embrace him after weeks apart. How dare he comment on my appearance when he had no idea of the weight I carried?
The worst part was, I had a solution. A solution that sickened me as much as it tempted me. I hated that I needed August—that he had become the one thing that could quiet the relentless torment of my nightmares. Yet, here I was, wandering the woods, hoping August would sense me and grant me the elusive rest I so desperately craved. Each step felt heavier, not just from exhaustion but from the weight of my reliance on him. It gnawed at me, the bitterness of needing someone like him—someone I should hate—mingling with the shame of the relief his presence brought.
Our spot had been ruined, thanks to August and his games. Yesterday after he took me away, he brought me to the edge of the woods near my home and I quickly left him after the unsettling closeness and nausea from the speed swept through me. No decision to meet again—or where, and I didn’t leave last night with Adar home.
I waited all day for him, taking Shadow for a ride, pacing the woods, but he never came. After warming by the fire and waiting for my parents to fall asleep, I changed into my leathers and went out into the darkness, hoping to finally find him.
I changed my direction today, leaving from the front of our cottage and walking down the small road that led closer to town. The recent rain had left the path damp, and the cool air carried the faint scent of wet earth. As I passed the Miller’s house, I remembered that one of their mares had just given birth. My curiosity piqued, breaking the monotony of my wandering, and I turned toward their barn.
The Miller’s barn was grand compared to ours, with its freshly painted beams and carefully organized stalls. Inside, I crept quietly down the aisle until I found the mare and her foal. The foal was nestled close to his mother, his tiny body trembling as he adjusted to the world. He was a pretty thing, delicate and small, with a tawny brown coat and a sleek black mane that glinted faintly in the filtered light streaming through the slats of the barn.
I stayed a while, running my fingers along the rough grain of the stall doors, marveling at the strength and beauty of the other horses. Their glossy coats and steady eyes spoke of careful tending—something that seemed worlds apart from the chaos I carried.
When I finally stepped back onto the path, the barn fading into the distance, a sharp pain raced through my scars, stealing the breath from my lungs. The sensation was unlike anything I had experienced before, like a warning bell ringing deep within me. My hand instinctively flew to my neck, brushing against the fabric that concealed the marks. Most days, I forgot they were even there, hidden by carefully placed fabric and willful ignorance. But now, they burned as though reignited by some unseen force.
I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, and then another wave of pain ripped through me, forcing a strangled cry from my lips. My knees buckled, and I clutched a nearby tree for support. The unsettling sensation churned in my chest, a mix of fear and urgency I couldn’t ignore. Something was wrong, horribly wrong.
I straightened with effort, forcing myself to move. Whatever was happening, I couldn’t afford to stand still. The forest around me felt darker, the trees leaning in as if they, too, sensed the weight of my unease. I had to find him. Had to understand what this pain meant before it consumed me whole.
“What are you doing out here alone?” A sinister voice from behind me spoke.
I couldn’t think. I had to do something fast.
Just as the vampire advanced towards me, I turned around and placed my hand on him, feeling the familiar surge of power that came with siphoning his life force. The euphoria was immediate, a heady rush that made my skin hum with energy. It was as if every nerve in my body awakened, vibrating with life that wasn’t my own. I relished the control, the way he crumpled before me, completely at my mercy. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt whole, like this was how I was meant to be all along. The intoxicating sensation made my heart race, even as another wave of pain tore through me, grounding me back in reality.
I focused on the vampire in front of me, his magic draining into me like water through parched soil. The rush of power surged through my veins, warm and electric, as though I was being filled with pure vitality. It was overwhelming, but I didn’t care. I reveled in the sensation, feeling unstoppable, untouchable—finally myself. When his strength waned and his eyes dimmed, I grabbed the stake strapped to my leg and plunged it into his heart with calculated precision. I couldn’t use fire on him like I loved to do once before. I had to spare every ounce of power I could because I knew whatever I was about to walk into, it wouldn’t be good.
But it didn’t matter what danger I’d be stepping into. Every part of my being was telling me, pulling me to save him.
After pulling the stake out of the vampire and strapping it back to my leg, I ran back to the horse stable. Another wave of pain had me falling to my knees, but I pushed myself up to take a few more steps to get to the stable.
After mounting the brown mare from the first stall, I raced through the woods following a magical pull that was forcing me to find him. As I went deeper into the woods, I heard a faint, familiar sound. The chants grew louder, low and rhythmic, and I realized what it was.
Spells.
As I emerged from the cover of the woods, the clearing stretched out before me, bathed in pale moonlight. A dozen or so witches formed a tight circle, their bodies swaying in unison as their chants filled the air. The air felt charged, thick with magic, and each step forward sent a shiver down my spine. At the center of it all, I saw him—August—on his knees, his usually commanding figure reduced to something frail and broken. Blood soaked his shirt, streaking down his arms and pooling beneath him. His skin was paler than usual, a stark contrast to the crimson staining him, and his chest rose and fell with labored breaths as though every movement pained him.
I dismounted the horse and gave her a hit to send her away. I pulled the strings that kept my cloak on, allowing it to fall to the ground. Before I could comprehend what I was doing, the few witches that were blocking my view of him were screaming as they burned into nothing. August’s eyes raised to mine, and he smiled when he saw it was me.
I took a step forward and stabbing pains shot through my head as I could feel someone’s magic being used on me. I raised my hand to my head and grabbed the invisible flow of magic and gained control of it. This magic was nothing like I’ve felt before. A woman with brown curly locks screamed when she felt only what I could imagine as someone ripping an organ out with their bare hands. Her screams grew louder as I ripped her connection to magic away from her. Her terror was palpable, her wide eyes brimming with fear as she scrambled backward.
“Siphoner!” someone yelled, the word laced with panic, and the witches began shifting uneasily, their confidence fracturing as they realized what I was.
One man, perhaps more foolish than the rest, pulled a sword from his belt and charged at me, his movements reckless with desperation. With a single thought, I formed two swords and prepared for his advance.
His sword came down hard but I met him with the defense of the sword in my right hand as I pushed the sword in my left into his abdomen.
Another man came to my right and cut through the fabric on my arm before I moved out of the way. Blocking his next advance with one sword, my other ripped through his stomach all the way to his neck. Blood splattered across my face when I pulled the sword to me as he fell to the ground.
A sharp wave of pain seared through the scar on my neck, and I glanced back to see the remaining women huddled closer, forming a tighter circle around him. Their chanting grew more frantic, the words an unintelligible blur that reverberated through the clearing. Whatever they were doing, it was clear they weren’t finished.
My swords disappeared and with one motion, I had them flying up into the air before they hit the ground with such force that I could hear the crack of their bones from the distance I was from them.
Another woman, hidden in the shadows until now, darted forward and wrapped her arms around the curly-haired witch, trying to lift her to her feet.
Her voice cracked as she screamed at me, “You don’t understand what you’re doing!” Her tone was a mix of fear and pleading, as if hoping her words could stop the inevitable.
I lifted my hand, my fingers curling with purpose, and gave them nothing but a single motion. The sound of their necks snapping echoed through the clearing, sharp and final.
I stood frozen, my breath catching as I took in the aftermath of my actions. The blood-streaked ground glistened under the pale moonlight, and the acrid scent of burned flesh stung my nose, mixing with the bitter tang of iron that clung to the air.
My hands trembled, slick with blood and trembling from the amount of magic I had wielded, yet my gaze stayed locked on him. Guilt simmered just beneath the surface, battling with an unspoken triumph I didn’t dare acknowledge.
But more than anything, I was worried. Worried for him.
It took him a moment to stand, his movements slow as if each subtle moment pained him. Blood still oozed from the wounds the witches had inflicted, the stark red dripping onto the earth with every shaky step. His shoulders sagged under an invisible weight, and his chest rose and fell with labored breaths, each one seeming to cost him more effort than the last.
As August began walking toward me, I noticed the slight limp in his stride, the way his hand briefly pressed against his side as if to hold himself together. His usually sharp, mocking gaze was dulled, clouded by pain and something else—something I couldn’t quite name. His silence unsettled me as much as his battered appearance.
For once, there were no biting remarks, no infuriating smirks or cryptic quips. The air between us was heavy, charged with everything left unsaid. The closer he came, the more I could see the toll the fight had taken on him. His pale skin seemed almost translucent under the moonlight, and the shadows under his eyes were deeper than I’d ever seen them.
August stopped a few feet away, his lips twitching as if he wanted to respond, but no words came. Instead, he simply looked at me.
“August,” I said. “What—”
Before I could finish, he reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek. His touch was cold, trembling slightly, but there was an urgency in the way his fingers lingered. It caught me off guard, stealing the rest of my words.
Then, without warning, he pulled me closer, his lips crashing against mine with a raw intensity that made my breath catch. It wasn’t calculated or teasing, like I would have expected from him—it was consuming, frantic, like he was pouring every ounce of himself into this single moment.
After the initial shock faded, I was left with utter panic. My heart raced, each beat a furious reminder of how good this felt. Anger surged through me—anger at him for crossing a line, but mostly at myself for feeling anything but revulsion.
I had kissed him before, yes. But that kiss was nothing more than a distraction. Nothing more than to keep us both alive.
But when he kissed me now, it wasn’t the same. There was a desperation in the way his lips moved against mine, a hunger that was both foreign and terrifying. This wasn’t the usual predatory desire I had come to expect—it was something deeper, something that made my chest tighten with emotions I didn’t want to name. It couldn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.
It couldn’t.
So I did the only thing I could do. I pulled the stake off of my thigh and stabbed him in the leg.
He stared at me, eyes wide with a mix of shock and . . . amusement? His lips twisted into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, even as he collapsed to the ground. The glint in his eyes made my stomach churn with frustration, and before he could utter a word, I disappeared with the little magic I had left.