Chapter 23 #2
I lifted the glass carefully, giving the creature its freedom. For a moment, the beetle remained still, as if stunned by its sudden release. Then it righted itself with deliberate movements, antennae twitching as it oriented to its surroundings. Within seconds, it was crawling.
I watched its steady progress and raised my hands again, focusing on the ancient words that had almost worked before. I felt I needed to dig deeper, find that connection again, and hold on to it. Not just connect. Bond.
"Kythara vel'neth, thaelon mi'dar. Seren'dor kalanis, veridian talar."
The moment the words left my lips, warmth pulsed inside my chest and flowed down through my arms. The connection snapped into place with an almost audible click.
It was unreal. I could feel it inside and outside of me. Almost like a lock that clicked into place to tether me to my magic.
I held on tightly to that feeling—mind, body, and soul, refusing to let it slip away. The book had stated that time magic wasn't about force but about weaving yourself into the very fabric of moments and convincing them to bend to your will.
Like before, a soft golden glow began to shimmer around the beetle.
The gold was the threads of time taking shape from the spell’s command.
This was where I needed to focus. On those delicate strands of light, on maintaining that warm pulse inside my chest, on keeping the magical connection steady and strong.
I willed everything to hold, and focus I did.
The golden threads brightened, shining lighter than before.
Wispy tendrils flickered out like fingers, and then the beetle’s movements slowed dramatically, each step stretching into an eternity.
Its antennae moved like they were pushing through thick amber, and its wings barely fluttered once, then stopped against the heavy weight of manipulated time.
“Gods, it’s working,” I muttered, drawing in a breath.
I kept my focus. I wasn’t done yet. This wasn’t quite control.
I pressed deeper into the connection, feeling something more profound shift inside my chest, like a door opening to a room I'd forgotten existed. The magic pulsed stronger within me, and I poured everything I had into those golden threads.
That’s when the beetle stopped completely.
Not the natural pause of a creature choosing to rest but something far more otherworldly. The very air around it seemed frozen, caught in crystalline suspension.
Blessed Mother, even the tiny motes of dust floating in the candlelight had ceased their gentle dance, trapped in the sphere of my influence.
I held my breath and watched, waiting for the beetle to move again. It didn’t.
I smiled to myself. I did it. Gods, I actually did it.
Now to see if I could truly control time with the spell.
“Vethalan kaetrhis,” I spoke the words to release the spell, and the beetle started moving again. "Kythara vel'neth, thaelon mi'dar. Seren'dor kalanis, veridian talar," I chanted, and the beetle froze once more. It didn’t even slow. It just froze.
My smile widened. For the first time since this nightmare began, hope rose within me, cresting like a wave of possibilities.
Again. I needed to do it again.
"Vethalan kaetrhis." The beetle resumed its crawl. "Kythara vel'neth, thaelon mi'dar. Seren'dor kalanis, veridian talar." It froze once more, caught mid-step like a tiny sculpture.
Smiling to myself, I repeated the process three more times, each casting feeling smoother and more natural.
The magic flowed through me like water finding its course, and the golden threads responded to my will with increasing eagerness.
On the final attempt, I barely had to concentrate. The spell felt as easy as breathing.
My heart hammered with excitement, and I thought of the task that lay before me.
"Sirril said she came this way." The sudden sound of Arielle's voice cut through my triumph like a blade.
“Yeah, he told me that, too.” That was Garrick. “Thought she might be blowing off some stress.”
Shit. I really didn’t want to see either of them.
I knew they meant well, but I…
I just wanted to be alone, and I didn’t want to feel guilty about what I was planning to do.
The library door creaked open, and I quickly spoke the release word as their footsteps echoed across the stone floor.
The beetle scuttled away into the shadows just as I spotted Arielle walking between the towering bookshelves. The floating books nearby drifted toward her, begging to be read, but she dismissed them with a wave of her hand.
I was still quite far away. If I were quiet enough, I could sneak out through the back unseen and avoid them completely.
Quietly, I picked up my journal, the spell book, and two other books on phasing I’d borrowed from the shelves, then I tiptoed across the room, keeping close to the tallest shelves.
“Elariya,” Arielle called out.
“Maybe she went back to her room,” Garrick said, his footsteps overpowering Arielle’s.
“No, I was just there.”
I reached the far wall with a narrow door that led out to the manor's back gardens. The brass handle turned soundlessly under my trembling fingers.
Cool night air rushed in to greet me as I opened the door just wide enough to slip outside.
I pulled the door shut behind me with the softest click. Hopefully they didn’t hear.
I made a move, rushing into the garden. I’d have to go through the woods to get back to the main section of the house, but I didn’t mind. I’d prefer to get through the night without seeing anyone.
Before me stretched the manor's back grounds, manicured gardens giving way to wild grass, and beyond that, the dark line of the forest. I clutched the books tighter to my chest and hurried along.
I moved carefully through the undergrowth, letting the darkness swallow me whole. The deeper I went, the more alive the forest felt. Ancient oaks swayed lazily in the wind, night creatures rustled in the shadows, and the distant sound of waves crashed against the shore.
The woods grew thicker, wilder. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in silver patches, just enough to guide my steps.
As the trees began to thin, I caught the scent of salt in the air and heard the rhythmic crash of waves growing stronger. The forest was leading me toward the coast, to where the woodland met the beach.
I’d come out here yesterday for a break.
A different sound made me freeze. A low, rumbling growl that seemed to shake the very ground beneath my feet.
I crept up to the cluster of wild branches and peered ahead.
There, in a clearing where the forest opened onto the moonlit sand, stood Wolfe.
My breath stalled in my throat. Seeing him threw me off guard. And he was shirtless.
His powerful frame silhouetted against the silvery beach beyond, and moonlight painted his skin like marble, highlighting every carved line of muscle across his chest and shoulders. Dark tattoos spiraled down his arms, intricate patterns that seemed to shift and dance in the pale light.
His long, wild hair hung loose around his shoulders, stirring gently in the sea breeze.
Even hating him as I did, I couldn't deny the treacherous flutter inside my chest that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with him.
His raw beauty was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
He was chanting something I couldn’t quite hear. Then the sky above him erupted in movement, and a massive dragon descended like a falling star.
It was Pyrion. She soared above him, magnificent and utterly terrifying.
Her scales gleamed in the sky, her amber eyes glowing as smoke curled from her nostrils.
Now was not the time to be fascinated. This was the guy I was planning to run from. I should mind my own business and continue on to my room.
But I couldn’t help myself. Watching a dragon flying across the sky was not something one would ever see in the mortal lands. Neither was seeing a warrior Fae prince.
I risked getting a little closer. Just a little closer so I could see what he was doing.
Wolfe stretched his hands toward the sky, beckoning the dragon forth, and it breathed blue fire down upon him.
I gasped, my heart racing as I thought the flames would incinerate him. But they didn't.
Within the blue fire he stood, untouched, directing it across the sand, where it rippled like stones skipping across the water.
The display was mesmerizing and frightening in equal parts. The flames danced to his will, painting patterns in the air that left trails of azure light lingering in my vision. It was like watching living art.
The dragon descended then landed right beside Wolfe. The flames faded from his body.
Pyrion lowered her massive head toward Wolfe with something that looked almost like affection, and he reached up to stroke the creature's snout with the same gentle reverence he’d used on me when he’d touched my face and told me hate was better than nothing.
He’d meant it.
I’d wondered if the nothingness he’d spoken of was the reflection of the hollow inside my soul.
An unwelcome pang coursed through my chest, and I thought of all the things I’d written about him in my journal.
If our situations were reversed, I thought I would choose hatred, too, over nothingness.
At least with hatred, you knew where you stood.
But nothingness was simply nothing. Hatred did hurt less.
As if he could hear my thoughts, he turned his head slightly in the direction of where I hid.
“You can come out, Ziyka. I know you’re there.” His voice carried across the night air, gentle despite the command. The wrath from yesterday was gone, replaced by subdued resignation.
My entire body went rigid, caught between the instinct to run and the paralysis of being discovered.
My heart sped up as I tried to decide what to do. I’d been watching him, but Wolfe was the last person I wanted to see—let alone speak to. I hesitated until he turned around fully and looked right at me, his eyes locking me in place.
I swallowed hard and decided to go to him.
So much for trying to avoid everyone.
But perhaps… perhaps this was best. Since I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, this could be my quiet goodbye.