Chapter 7 Sam
Sam
One minute we were standing there watching Randy make a fool of himself, and the next, Faelan was in the dirt. Drunk? He wasn’t drinking now. And I hadn’t tasted any alcohol on him before.
Plus, he was so big, it would take a lot of box wine to bring him down.
I dropped to one knee beside him. “Hey, are you all right?”
He didn’t answer. And he was clutching at a tuft of grass so hard his knuckles had gone white.
What the heck? The only thing going on around us was Randy’s dumb ritual…and then I noticed the leaves in Faelan’s beard. Naturally, I’d just figured he had picked them up while we were rolling around on the ground. But he wasn’t shedding the debris.
In fact, if anything, he was sprouting more.
Tiny green leaves, too fresh, too vibrant. Not stray bits of the forest clinging to him, but growing.
Something inside me prickled.
“Faelan?”
He didn’t look at me. His fingers pressed harder into the ground.
I scanned him, taking in every detail, my brain running too fast, leaping to conclusions I didn’t want to reach.
Leaves in his beard. The sheer size of him. The way he moved, always rooted, always sure. The peculiar little stories he told.
And the way he’d pounded into me until I came and came and came.
Not human at all.
Oh, shit.
I barely noticed the others still talking, or Randy rambling about his ritual like he hadn’t just done something with actual consequences. I leaned in close and kept my voice low. “Faelan? What’s happening?”
When he glanced up at me from beneath his thick, dark brows, I saw his irises weren’t just intensely green—they were literally glowing. “The words were all wrong.” His jaw worked. “And the earth listened anyway.”
I might not be entirely convinced Faelan wasn’t human. But I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let anything happen to him.
“Let’s get out of here.” I slung one of his arms around my shoulder—geez, he was huge—and somehow got him to his feet.
We staggered over to Callie and Bethany, who were watching us with wide eyes, but who sprang right into action, no questions asked, when I said, “We need to get him away from Randy. Now.”
As we hauled Faelan away from the group, I felt it. A shift.
Nothing dramatic. No tremors, no eerie winds.
Just a faint thickening in the air, a subtle press against my skin, like stepping into humidity after standing in crisp, open air.
Bethany muttered something under her breath, probably thinking it was just the weight of the situation, but I wasn’t so sure.
Faelan was heavy, not just in size but in presence. His breath labored, like he was forcing each inhale, keeping himself together through sheer will.
I stole a glance back.
Randy had turned his attention back to the group, completely oblivious, talking about strengthening the ritual. The others were nodding along, humoring him.
We had to move.
Callie led us toward the tree line, away from the open firelight and deeper into the dark. But even as we walked, I noticed something was…off.
The trees were too green. The leaves seemed too thick, too lush for this time of year. A low-hanging branch brushed against my shoulder, and where I swore those branches had been bare minutes ago, tiny buds were beginning to bloom.
I slowed. “Guys—do you see this?”
Bethany’s brow furrowed. “See what?”
I brushed aside a fresh sprig of ivy that hadn’t been there before. “This is totally out of season.”
Callie took a step back. “Okay. That’s not normal. But there’s no way Randy has some magical power to make plants grow.”
I 0pened my mouth to agree and wave this off as some kind of weird coincidence, but then I looked at Faelan.
His skin wasn’t pale or sickly, but wrong. Like a tree that had been stripped of its bark.
This was serious. “Randy may not have power. But that ritual? It wasn’t just a bunch of nonsense.”
Bethany twisted the hem of her sweater for dear life. “But, even so. We’re talking Randy here.”
“The earth listens,” Faelan said. “It doesn’t question the heart of the one who speaks, nor does it pause to ask if the words are meant to be said. And so it answered him, though his tongue faltered and he didn’t understand what he asked.”
Callie shifted her weight, glancing between us. “Hold on. You can’t mean to say….” She laughed nervously. “I mean, sure, you look the part, but obviously you’re not—”
I barely heard her. My mind was racing, replaying the last few minutes—the thick air, the fresh ivy, the way Faelan had just dropped. And the way Randy, oblivious as ever, had plowed on ahead.
“What did that idiot actually do?” I whispered.
Faelan lifted his head to meet my gaze fully. His irises still held that eerie green glow, just faintly, but enough to make my breath hitch.
“It was no invocation he spoke. It was a binding.”
The weight of the word hit me in the chest.
Callie gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, come on. Randy mispronounces half the words in the dictionary. You’re telling me he accidentally performed a real-life mystical binding? Of the Green Man himself?”
Bethany’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But he didn’t even know what he was saying.”
“We need to get Faelan farther away from this ritual,” I adjusted my hold on his arm. “Before they screw it up even worse. And not a word of it to Randy.”
Bethany nodded, stepping in to help, and together we got Faelan moving again. Callie hesitated, glancing back toward the clearing where Randy was encouraging people to add their “vibes and intentions.”
I tightened my grip on the Green Man, taking on more of his weight. “We hide him somewhere safe. Then we figure out how to fix this.”