Chapter 11
Interwoven Volatility
Fynn
Angrily, I kick against the bed, the wooden frame not budging, and I scream out loud as a stinging pain jolts through my foot.
I’m sure I broke a bone somewhere. Jodelle bites her lower lip, holding in a chuckle.
It makes me want to smash her head against the window in hopes that the glass shards embed themselves in her thick skull, but I refrain from doing so.
My jaw ticks as I clench my fists, my knuckles turning white from the pressure.
The intrusive thoughts are becoming harder to ignore, sometimes taking over without me being able to stop them.
I don’t want to stop them; if anything, I want to execute them, to blur fantasy and reality.
I would have yesterday, with Caria in the flower fields, if my vile sister and that leech of hers hadn’t distracted me with their presence; I would have burned Caria until she was on the brink of death.
It was mesmerizing to watch her skin burst as I slowly cooked her, but seeing Harlot…
If it wasn’t for my damn sister, I know I would have dragged Caria into that lake to let the death witch drown—a slow, agonizing death according to the dhampir.
I would have watched her fight for her life.
The image of her face surrounded by tiny bubbles filled with precious air imprints itself in my mind, as her lungs fill with water.
It makes me giddy. I shake my head and begin to massage my temples, a desperate attempt to erase the vile imagery I conjured. This isn’t me. I don’t want Caria dead.
Are you sure? Shouldn’t all darklings die at your hands? Especially treacherous death witches like her. They do nothing but lie and deceive.
While lost in my thoughts, I notice Jodelle observes my features, and again, the urge to hurt her comes over me.
A longing takes hold of me, the desire to hear her bones fracture, the sweet sound of breaking her neck, her cries of pain.
Without saying a word, I leave the room.
I listen to her call my name, but I ignore Jodelle.
This is me, upholding my promise to keep her safe and not to hurt her.
I quickly glance at the bar and see a new girl washing glasses and chatting with the customers—her raven hair cascades down her back, complementing her dark skin.
Her hazel eyes give me a quick, knowing glare—definitely a death witch.
I don’t bother asking her name; nothing about her draws me in.
She’s beautiful, yet it seems as if my heart has only devotion for two women, both of whom I now want to be bordering on death.
If anything, I feel the need to burn the whole place down, as frustration takes over and leaves me unstable. I have to know where Caria is.
So, I can kill her, finish what I started.
I growl as I pass by a shadow beast, which hisses loudly at me, even though it’s not Hako.
Fucking stupid beasts. I try to kick it, but my foot goes right through its smoky body, the beast's shadows curling around me, only to retake its shape on top of a table. It bears its multiple rows of sharp teeth at me. I don’t understand why my magic doesn’t turn it into a small pile of ashes.
Irritated, I stomp out of the establishment.
First, I’m going to visit the dhampir. He might know where Caria hides. Somehow, he always knows these things.
“Mother?” I say, mortified to find her at Faas’s place.
The dhampir’s arms hang loosely around my mother's shoulders, as if they belong there, and I stare at them, stunned. The dhampir’s bright green eyes meet mine, his stare cold and warning.
My mother gives a tight smile and asks what I’m doing here instead. I glare at her in disbelief.
“Are you fucking kidding me? He is my friend. Why are you here?” I demand.
“Language, son! I will not tolerate any disrespect toward Adira, not even from her own child,” Faas roars.
My mother leans into his touch, her head resting against the monster's broad chest.
“What is going on here…?" My voice is low, but I feel rage starting to ignite within me.
The idea that my mother also fell for a dark creature makes me feel sick. A whore for darklings, it seems my sister merely follows in my mother’s footsteps, or perhaps it’s the other way around. Both deserve to be taught a violent lesson.
“FYNNIGAN!” my mother shouts.
Hearing her stern voice snaps me out of the heinous thoughts that are eating away at my core. My eyes snap to hers.
“This is not how I raised you,” she hisses. “I’m an adult, and if I want the company of a male friend, I do not, and WILL not explain myself to my children.”
She steps away from Faas and stops in front of me.
My mother folds her arms as she cranes her neck to look up at me, as I tower over her.
Even though my mother is a short woman, she still terrifies me.
I’ll never forget how she hunted down that vampire who tried to kidnap Harlot when she was younger and murdered him in cold blood. I slump my shoulders in defeat.
“Fine… I guess,” I mumble, unsure how to respond.
“I wasn’t asking for your permission, young man. How about you go take a walk to blow off some steam?” my mother says sternly, her arms still folded, and I don’t miss the sly grin on Faas’s face as he watches her scold me.
This tiny woman, who isn’t afraid of any dark creature, no matter how strong they are, has a love for my sister and me that’s stronger than anything, even fear.
Her presence demands my respect, and I have no choice but to give in.
I feel partly guilty for investigating her and losing trust in her motives.
Yet, I can’t help myself—with everyone around me lying, I have to ask.
“Why are you visiting witches, Mother?” It comes out more as a plea than a question.
She narrows her eyes at me. “To break that damn curse that holds you and your sister prisoner. I go to witches because they offered their help in return for an offer they couldn’t refuse, Fynn. I made a bargain to save my children. To save your life.”
“Anything else you’d like to know?” she asks, tapping her feet impatiently.
I shake my head at her, quickly glance at Faas, who raises an eyebrow at me, then gather myself.
As I close the door, I witness my mother and Faas kissing.
An unsettling feeling takes hold of me, but I can’t quite put my finger on why.
I call the dhampir my friend; why can’t I feel genuine happiness for my mother?
Another thought gnaws at me… When did Faas and my mother get so close?
Following my mother’s advice, I walk along the sandy trail, avoiding the city, and choose to go deeper into nature.
The trunks and foliage of the trees, blending into the magical forest, are barely noticeable.
It’s a slight color difference; the leaves are slightly brighter green, and when you pass through, a magical ripple occurs in the air.
Only when you are aware of the passage between the two worlds will you notice it.
It's almost a whispering beckon, the velvety voice in my head that speaks to me. Its words are poisonous, yet I am too weak to resist them, as I suffer helplessly, rotting from the inside. In silent defeat, I hear the words I speak internally, unable to stop—each sentence is a strike, my voice not my own, designed to inflict pain on the ones I love. Powerlessly, I feel my body move and act out in ways I don’t intend.
Amid the trees, the first tear is followed by many more.
I weep as I lean against one of the trees, while an unraveling takes hold of me that is long overdue.
I fall to my knees and come undone in the process.
A branch moves across my chest, and with tear-streaked eyes, I watch its motion.
I look up and see the leaves on the tree shudder; then another branch from a different angle arches around me, and I realize the tree is hugging me.
I give it a small smile, unsure how to respond.
It seems the magical forest has forgiven my earlier, hostile antics.
Immediately, the voice pounces, attacking me at my weakest moment.
Time to visit your sister, make use of this newfound privilege, before those damn trees catch on. All you have to do is kill her, and you’ll be rid of these horrendous thoughts. She’s the culprit of it all.
It has a point. If Harlot is no longer alive, the curse can run its natural course.
It’s thanks to her that I am the way I am now—unpredictable and dangerous around the ones I care for.
It’s because of her defiance and bonding with that abomination that I dream of murdering not just her, but also Jodelle and Caria, and I start to succumb to the demanding voices.
Slowly, I untangle myself from the branches that hold me in some kind of embrace.
I wipe away my tears and take a step forward, but none of the trees obstruct me.
I feel my thoughts becoming cloudy, with dark shrouds covering my sadness and fueling my anger instead.
Before the forest changes its mind, I start to run.
Unsure of which way to go, I follow my instincts, and gradually I notice the shift in the trees.
It spreads over them, that change—like molasses sliding down cold glass.
Shadows fall over me as branches and foliage obscure my light, their bright colors turning dark.
It’s clear they’ve sensed my murderous thoughts, and I raise my arms defensively against the now swatting boughs that nearly hit my head.
It no longer welcomes me here, but then I see it—part of the fortress.
High, stone turrets and tall, pointed spires contrast against the blue sky.
Tall silhouettes emerge against the horizon, but I am unable to witness the details.
Limbs of an oak sway in the wind, nearly knocking me over, and the punch to my stomach steals my breath for a moment.
I reach out with my hands to the painted image in the sky; I am so close.
That is where she holds herself up. Tears well up in the corners of my eyes once more, this time it’s not from sorrow, but rather from anger.
A bitterness takes root inside me again—the cause of my despair is just a few kilometers away, and once more it’s these damn trees, this forsaken forest that keeps me from my desire.
I kick against the oak that almost killed me, and I swear I hear it grunt.
Shocked, I glance up, its leaves rustling wrathfully, their colors darkening from dark green to nearly black, and I step back.
The bushes and trees are closing in on me, and it’s clear I’ve overstayed my welcome.
With a tense jaw, I retreat. I need to get out of this forest while I carefully avoid swinging twigs and branches that try to slam me to the ground.
I groan as a twig cuts my face, blood trickling onto my shirt.
I dab my cheek with my sleeve, unintentionally smearing the blood further.
Despite my rage flaring up, nothing changes; nature seems immune to my kind of magic, perhaps because of its neutrality.
I try to ignite the threatening tree, but it remains unchanged.
Frustrated, I punch it, hearing a sickening crack coming from my knuckles, and I yelp loudly.
A branch attacks me furiously, prompting me to duck and roll while clutching my injured hand.
“Fucking forest,” I mutter bitterly.
With a bleeding face and a surely broken hand, I manage to escape the clutches of the triggered forest. It’s been a long time since I felt as vulnerable as I did in there.
I can’t believe I was so close to Harlot; no wonder my thoughts were poisoned the moment the thing within me noticed it.
In defeat, I return to the one person who will never judge me, as she understands me on a level no one ever could.
Disappointment washes over me when the pretty witch from earlier is still present, Caria nowhere to be found, and I realize I never asked Faas about the death witch, seeing him with my mother too distracting.
I open the door, and Jodelle rushes toward me.
“My love! What happened?” she asks, as she examines me carefully.
“A hunting trip gone wrong.” I smirk, trying to act tough.
Her gaze meets mine, those ocean-blue eyes full of sorrow, and I despise that I can’t fight whatever consumes me, that I am unable to endure its relentless attacks against my feeble mind.
Yet, somehow, Harlot managed to survive and overcome it.
Fuck, she was even able to dismiss her forced soulmate and choose someone else, a darkling among all possibilities.
As I look at Jodelle, with her golden hair and perfect figure, I can’t imagine that she isn't my rightful soulmate. As I drink her in, it hits me: the reason for our broken connection lies deep within our attraction… It’s mostly physical, unlike Caria, with whom I also feel attracted to her personality.
A safety I never truly experienced with Jodelle.
I hold her tightly, sniff her hair, and she giggles, the sound actual music to my ears, yet…
the tune feels off, as if it’s not entirely there, slightly out of sync.
The revelation allows me to see things through a new lens, one that’s darker and gloomier.
I feel the chemistry pulling at me stronger, but a part of me, one that grows more prominent each day, faces it with disdain.
She gives me gentle kisses on my neck, and the hairs on my skin stand up from excitement, igniting my passion.
I push away the destructive thoughts, ignore the chill of revulsion, and focus on the infatuation that tries to embed itself back in my mind.
I allow it to caress me like a blanket, wrapping me tightly and drowning me in allure.
The tug on my mind becomes a slight nuisance, but I am able to disregard it and return Jodelle’s affection.
She doesn’t deserve any of this; it seems she is nothing more than collateral damage from this curse that dwells within me.
I kiss her deeply, eliciting a moan from her, which is enough to stir my cock.
Our bodies are certainly compatible; it’s our minds that I worry about.
Perhaps I need to work harder to make our attachment work.
I weave my hands through her blonde strands, pulling her in, deepening our kiss even further.
I do my best to forget Caria, with her golden eyes and deep red hair—the one who had captured my attention first, freely, without a forced fate interfering.