12. 10
10
Thorn
I awake in agony, my chest feeling gutted as if a vital organ had been carved out. Even smothered under a mountain of quilts, a bone-deep cold seeps through me. This isn’t just physical pain. It’s the remains of the bond I shared with Draven slowly shredding to bits. I knew the distance would help this dissipate, but I hoped it wouldn’t hurt this much.
Pressing both palms over my whining heart, I chant every healing spell I know until the magic fizzles. Too wrecked to mend this intimate damage. Fate’s cruel, letting me sample true belonging only to yank it away before I could grab hold. Sure, I don’t really want it, or didn’t I? I don’t know. I can’t think straight. What’s done is done .
I’m tempted to make a loaf of the bread I had been feeding my vampire guest, but I don’t have the energy.
Dragging myself out of bed, I poke at the banked embers, coaxing the fire back to life, but its heat can’t thaw the ice around my soul. I wrap up in my thickest wool shawl and shuffle outside into the pale dawn, hoping the frosty air will numb this endless ache, but nothing mutes the gaping absence inside me now.
My leaden legs carry me to the woodshed on autopilot. Keeping my little place stocked with firewood provides some semblance of routine amidst the chaos.
As I trudge through drifts, flashes keep assaulting me—Draven’s rare unguarded laughter, his secret smiles meant only for me, our heated embrace by the hearth. I squeeze my eyes against fresh hot tears. Fool. How could you let yourself fall for a handsome stranger? You knew how this had to end. You set your will against fate itself yet still got shattered.
I should’ve turned the half-dead vampire away that first night and kept my hapless heart cased in ice against his melting charm. Now, only shards remain, broken beyond repair .
The weight of the axe nearly topples me as I weakly try to swing it. Spent and despairing, I sink down amongst the silent pines.
As I sit there, lost in melancholy, unbidden memories keep invading my mind—Draven’s tender gaze, the soft brush of his fingers over my cheek, his strong arms cradling me close, shielding me from the darkness.
No. I force the recollections away ruthlessly. The past is done. He has surely returned to his family in Everdusk by now, back to that gilded cage where my former life had been so terrible a living nightmare I’d rather let the world believe me dead than remain trapped there.
Maybe I should just lay here and allow the cold to claim me. Give up this endless fight. Find some peace in oblivion.
A flash of white catches my blurry eyes—a snow fox darting gracefully between the trees.
I watch numbly as it playfully chases a mouse across the icy crust before bounding over to me. The fox pauses a few steps away, cocking its head curiously. After a moment, it approaches and nudges my limp hand with its velvety muzzle. Warmth seeps from its touch, kindling faint sparks within my hollowed spirit.
Come now, child. On your feet.
I startle at the gentle yet commanding feminine voice echoing in my mind.
The fox meets my shocked gaze steadily, eyes swirling with ancient wisdom.
Gobsmacked, I struggle to rise on violently shaking limbs. What magic is this?
The fox trots at my heels as I stumble back home, its presence keeping me tethered to this world. Once inside, spent physically and mentally, I collapse on the hearth rug. My strange companion hops right into my lap, curling up against me as if sensing my need for living warmth.
“Um, hello? Just what do you think you’re doing?”
The fox stills, blinking up at me slowly. I’m here to help. The healing powers of a familiar are strongest with contact.
I frown suspiciously. “A familiar? Nope. No thank you. Never again will I be leashed to another being.”
The fox huffs, setting its head back down on my knee. Leashed? I’m not some pet pup! I chose you to guide you out of darkness, but suit yourself. Wallow alone then! Its bushy tail thumps my leg in emphasis.
I hesitate, sensing truth in its words as wisps of warmth radiate from its touch, dulling my agony fractionally. Still, accepting a familiar means relinquishing control I’ve fought hard to regain. At least this creature seeks to comfort and not consume me, and if it can grant some small relief from this torment…
I stroke the fox’s lustrous fur, my walls crumbling. Its rumbling contentment vibrates through my weary bones.
This mate bond is stirring quite the chaos inside of you, hmm? Its sly mental tone reminds me of Granny Rona’s playful spirit.
My vision blurs with hot tears. Gods, I wish she were here to guide me. She could always outwit fate’s tricks, but no, I’m alone. My family was hunted, and I’m the last one left.
The fox nuzzles me delicately. There now. Dry those eyes. We will outmaneuver this curse yet. You’ll see! But first, breakfast is in order. What are you making? I do love pancakes and eggs. Oh! And bacon! But only if it’s crispy and not burnt .
Its single-minded enthusiasm startles a watery chuckle from me. “We just met literally moments ago, and you expect me to cook for you?”
The fox peers up at me beseechingly, golden eyes wide. But you’re in pain, and home cooking always helps! Don’t you feel a little better with me here?
I pause, realizing my crushing anguish has eased, if only marginally, in the creature’s presence. Even so, I’m wary of entangling my life with another so soon.
“I admit your warmth offers some small comfort,” I reply judiciously, “but a true partnership must be built on more than that.”
The fox seems to consider this, head cocked. You make a fair point. Perhaps we might find an arrangement that suits us both? I only wish to aid you through this trying time, as any friend would. What we become after that we can let time tell. Besides, I’m not a pet to keep. I have my own life. Fate has just woven ours together as well. Not something I asked for or expected either. You two-legged beings tend to complicate matters beyond what’s necessary, and that’s not a mess I want to be involved with.
Friend. Not servant, not master. The simple offer resonates within my weary soul, yet uncertainty gnaws at me. This fox appeared in my darkest hour unbidden, fate’s timing no doubt. Its aid need not become a leash if boundaries are set.
“Very well.” I meet the fox’s gaze evenly. “You may stay, for now, as an equal companion, but only if you swear not to control or coerce me, as others have tried.” My voice hardens. “I walk my own path.”
I sense the fox’s earnestness through our tentative bond. You have my vow. I seek only to guide, not command. Now then, let’s get something tasty brewing!
Despite myself, I huff a laugh as we both rise. “You are as single-minded as a gale. Very well. Let’s eat. What should I call you?”
Luna.
“It’s nice to meet you, Luna.”
While I fix a simple breakfast of oatmeal, berries, and tea, my new friend’s playful quips lift my spirits. The white fox observes my cooking eagerly, nose twitching at the aroma of cinnamon-sweetened oats.
When I sprinkle a pinch of dried Asrbloom pollen into my steaming tea, the fox’s interest piques. Ooh, intriguing scent! I believe that rare flower is said to have potent restorative properties, if the old legends hold true. The fox’s golden eyes gleam knowingly.
I lift the cup, breathing in the delicate fragrance. “Yes, this should help clear my head and diminish lingering shadows. I didn’t expect a fox to know plants and magic so well.” I sip slowly, letting the fortifying warmth and floral notes soothe me.
There’s much you don’t know about me, witch. Fate wouldn’t choose just any fox to be a familiar.
I only nod, taking a sip of my tea. No, of course fate wouldn’t just choose anyone. Why did that make me only feel worse?
We share the meal in thoughtful quiet. For the first time since I cast Draven away, my chaotic thoughts find some steadiness. The tea is muting our severed bond’s torturous effects. I can focus and think beyond reactive anguish. There may yet be hope if I proceed wisely.
The fox finishes her meal and delicately licks her muzzle. That was delicious!
It’s a small comfort but sincere. This curious creature appeared just when I needed a loyal friend most, and though much remains uncertain, a fragile trust now bridges the space between us.
After tidying up the breakfast dishes, I retrieve an ancient leather-bound tome from my bookcase and settle into the armchair by the fireplace. Luna curls up around my feet, rumbling contentedly as I scratch her ears and flip open the dusty cover.
My eyes hurt from squinting at the faded lettering on these ancient parchment pages, but I’m determined to push through. There has to be some arcane ritual or alchemical formula in these books that can dissolve the unwanted bond linking me to that infuriating vampire prince. I refuse to give up!
As I struggle to focus on the obscure text, echoes of Draven’s presence stubbornly intrude—anger, frustration, and a vague sense of his location though worlds apart. I grit my teeth, pushing the unwanted sensations down.
“I’ve been at this all day, and I’ve found nothing,” I grumble, snapping the heavy tome shut and blowing errant dust motes from its musky pages. “This so-called ‘ultimate grimoire of mystical liberation’ is useless!”
I sink back into the velvet armchair, kneading my throbbing temples. The gilded candles on my reading table have burned down to nubs, their flickering light straining my vision further. How long have I been hunched over these ancient pages anyway ?
At my feet, the white fox Luna lifts her head, golden eyes glinting with sympathy from where she’s curled atop a plush pillow. You should rest. Your spirit grows weary.
I wave off her concern, unable to keep still when answers feel just out of reach. “I’m fine. One more cup of tea and then back to work.”
My fox companion snorts delicately as I push myself up and totter stiffly to the kitchen cabinet. A wave of dizziness hits when I reach for the tin of aromatic tea leaves. Luna’s right. I need nourishment after all this mental exertion. With no appetite for a proper meal, the earthy floral notes of my Asrbloom tea will have to suffice. It’s not often that I let my vampire side be what sustains me—I truly love good food anyway—but right now, I don’t have time or energy for more.
I sink into a chair, sweeping a hand across my disordered work table to clear space for the tea tray I then carry over. Beyond fatigue, disheartened frustration gnaws at my patience. What if there is no magic powerful enough to overcome fate’s decree and dissolve this bond forever ?
No. I refuse to surrender and remain magically tied to Prince Draven for eternity. There has to be an enchantment capable of severing even the most stubborn supernatural ties. I just need to find it. I’ll feel much more hopeful once this tea revives me.
The kettle whistles as Luna uses her snout to nudge it off the stove’s flame. I hide a smile at her resourcefulness as she trots over carrying the pot by the handle. After passing me a steaming cup, she hops up into the chair opposite.
“Isn’t that hot? I could have carried that.”
I’m a familiar, not your everyday fox. I can do things you couldn’t imagine, and carrying a teapot is the least of them. Drink up now. Can’t have you keeling over before you’re done!
Despite my anxious mood, I huff a laugh at the fox’s matter-of-fact tone, and I breathe in the tea’s soothing aroma. The vapor’s warmth against my face relaxes my furrowed brow somewhat. First, sustenance. Then, back to the books with fresh eyes.
I gulp the tea faster than advisable for the scalding temperature. The rich floral flavors and subtle spice invigorate me as promised. Within minutes, the fog of fatigue lifts, and I feel curiously energized. Draven’s thoughts and feelings are dampened enough that I can also forget he’s there. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this.
Across from me, Luna laps delicately at her own tea, neatly aligned white paws peeking out beneath her furry chest. She pauses, studying me with those uncannily sentient golden orbs.
Goodness, look at you! Practically bristling with renewed fervor. Just keep that energy in check. I can practically feel your magic rolling off of you. Are you sure your magic isn’t wild? The fox’s voice in my mind emanates wry amusement.
I roll my eyes fondly at her teasing as I eagerly tidy the empty mugs back onto the tray. She’s right. I feel so much better, and now that my mind is clear, I know just the empowering elixir to brew, found in an ancient text I forgot earlier. It’s at the back of my cabinet.
“You know me, always the picture of magical control,” I joke as I shift stacks of scrolls and tomes to unearth the handwritten grimoire I seek. Finding mystical solutions fills me with blazing purpose once more. “Actually, you don’t know me, but I promise no crockery is at risk here. ”
The fox hops down, pacing alongside me. Well, if you insist on more volatile spellwork tonight, I shall observe safely from the doorway. Her mental tone turns serious. Remember to anchor yourself, or the forces you channel may grow unruly.
Energized confidence overriding caution, I pause my rifling to wink at her. “The only unruly magic here is whatever nonsense fate used to bind me to Mister Royal Undeadness and to you.”
This time, I vow silently, my power will overcome destiny itself.
Luna snorts as I pass the rest of the night in fervent mystical preparation, my earlier fatigue completely banished. Clearing space in my small cottage proves cathartic—out with the remnants of the evidence of my unwanted guest and in with new ingredients brimming with potential.
As the last pale light of evening filters through the cottage windows, I stand back to survey my handiwork. The aged oak table now holds an intricate layout of engraved crystals, vials of enchanted oils, and dried herb bundles tied with different colored ribbons to produce specific effects. I inhale deeply, the mingling scents focused yet strangely soothing .
Candles—tall tapers of pure beeswax etched with sigils for clarity—form a circle around the most frayed and arcane grimoire from my collection. I reverently open the dragonhide leather binding, its pages so ancient they feel more like worn parchment than paper. My pulse leaps when I find the ritual I seek nestled within, a shiver of destiny raising hairs on my nape.
After meticulous purification, the space hums with simmering potential. The time has come.
Centering my will, I take my place before the makeshift altar and begin meticulously combining ingredients as the ritual instructs, whispered words of power flowing from my lips to direct the brew’s purpose.
As my incantation builds, the very walls of the cottage seem to resonate and amplify the words. Added droplets of viscous oil swirl opalescent through the mixture, kindling tiny sparks. The circle of candles flares higher, their reflection dancing across the glittering crystals and glass vials.
Power arcs to my outstretched palms as I seize it, funneling the volatile energy into the brew. “Give me the power to defy even you, oh fates,” I grit out through clenched teeth. Sweat beads my brow from the forces amassing around me. “Let no bond withstand this unveiled might!”
With a final thunderous shout, I unleash the spell in a concussive blast. The windows rattle violently as objects around the cottage shake and lift into the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the fox familiar Luna leap atop a floating chair, furiously keeping her balance.
The magic continues building, slipping beyond my efforts to rein it back. Cold realization washes over me. Fate has played me for a fool. This spell has taken on a life and will of its own. What have I done?
I reach desperately for control, but wayward tools and jars continue swirling around the room in the grip of chaotic power I can no longer contain.
“No, stop this!” I yell to no effect. The unleashed ritual will run its explosive course now.
Gritting my teeth, I focus every fiber of my will on guiding the wild magic away from anything irreplaceable or sentimental. The swirling vortex of energy slowly shifts course, sucked into the standing cabinet where my most hallowed artifacts are secured by enchantments .
With an immense blast, the tornado of magic and debris funnels into the cabinet. I wrench the double doors shut with a resounding slam, the carved oak frame shuddering violently. As the dust swirls down, I sink to the floor, lungs heaving and head spinning. Silence gradually settles around me.
Thorn? Are you hurt? The fox’s concerned voice filters through the ringing in my ears.
I lift my head to see Luna padding cautiously toward me, picking her way through the disordered wreckage now littering the cottage floor.
“I’m all right,” I rasp out, accepting her shoulder to lean on as I shakily rise.
Truthfully, I’m drained in every way, but nothing a good long rest won’t mend. Physically at least. My bruised ego may take longer after this magical fiasco.
Luna makes a sympathetic noise as we survey the cottage interior. The space looks like a localized hurricane blew through, scattering everything that wasn’t secured down. I grimace at a conspicuous scorch mark now marring the center of my favorite rug. So much for no damage to valuables.
“Some mystical liberation spell that turned out to be,” I mutter, righting an overturned chair with an irritable swipe of telekinesis. “I’ll be fortunate if I haven’t cursed myself somehow.”
Luna nudges me gently. You need sleep to recover strength. The cleaning can wait.
My fox companion is right. Magical exhaustion pulls at my limbs, the adrenaline of the ritual wearing off.