Aaron
It took everything I had to get Mara to calm down.
She doesn’t trust Eric. She’s right not to. But there’s something pulling at me, this thread I can’t quite name, and I don’t know what it is. For two years, he’s been trying to build a relationship with me. How could that be a scam?
But Mara sees danger where I see... possibility. And that terrifies me more than I want to admit, the conflict between my heart and gut twisting inside me.
She shifts in my arms, moving her head off me to rest on her belly against the pillow.
Her tail comes around and brushes against my chest, then settles there.
I smile, placing my hand over it, a wave of tenderness washing through me.
Mara’s a belly sleeper. I try to keep her against me for as long as I can, but she always ends up like this.
Sprawled out, peaceful, her body taking up the whole damn bed.
I close my eyes and try to rest.
I start to drift, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under, and it’s like a blink. One breath, and—
When I open my eyes again, it’s still nightfall.
I’m outside.
Standing in my pajamas, looking around in confusion. There’s no way I’m dreaming. The grass is cold and damp beneath my bare feet, the blades slick with dew, pressing against my soles.
I turn around slowly, taking in my surroundings.
The Academy.
What the fuck? Did my magic make me sleepwalk?
My breathing quickens, confusion and fear mingling inside me. Something feels wrong. Deeply, instinctively wrong. Not just the strange sleepwalking. I shiver in the night air.
I can feel everything. The coolness of the air against my skin.
The moon shines bright, lighting everything in silver-blue tones.
Lights are starting to turn out in the dorms for the night, windows going dark one by one across the campus.
I scratch the back of my head, then shrug, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
“Well,” I mutter to myself, chuckling nervously, “didn’t know I was a sleepwalker until now.”
I start to walk back toward the faculty building, but I pause when I feel a surge of magic.
I slowly turn around. A bright yellow light is rising above the trees in the distance, glowing steady through the branches. It pulls at me.
“Huh?” My mouth goes dry. “What’s going on in the Market?”
Blue-gold light sparks at my fingertips, crackling against my skin without my asking it to. I look down at my hands. The magic is dancing across my palms like it’s heard something I haven’t.
“The Witching Glen?” I question, and my throat closes around the second word.
I hold my hand out and try to open a portal. My magic twitches. Sparks, flickers, but nothing happens. No portal. No tear in the air. Just... sparks.
“Huh?” I stare at my hands, confusion and fear warring inside me.
I let them drop and start walking toward the light instead, drawn to it despite the warning bells clanging in my mind.
Something is wrong.
I’m careful with my footsteps, especially being barefoot. The forest floor is uneven, roots jutting up through the dirt, small rocks pressing into my soles. I’m looking around, and something just feels strange about this whole situation. Off.
But I can feel it. It’s the Witching Glen.
Did they figure out how to get out?
I walk for a while, moving through the trees, following the light. My heart pounds harder with each step. Finally, I reach the edge of the Market, and sure enough. It’s the Witching Glen. The small cottage that sits next to the Market, sealed and silent. No one enters. No one leaves.
Except now it’s pulsing with bright golden light, the glow spilling out from the cracks around the door, the windows, seeping into the night.
A lion’s roar carries from the direction of the Academy.
“Mara?”
I groan, my heart clenching. What is she doing here? My head starts to turn back toward the sound when the door to the cottage opens.
Blinding light hits me. So bright I throw my arm up to shield my face, a startled cry escaping my lips.
I lower my hand. Two warlocks step out from where the air just folded open, hoods pulled low, dark cloaks dragging at their boots.
The taller one’s hands hover at his sides—not raised, but ready, fingers half-curled.
White hair spills from beneath his hood.
The skin at his throat is thin enough that I can see the vein moving under it.
The other one is younger. His face is all angles. He spots me first.
They stiffen the moment they see me.
Both of them immediately fall into defense mode, magic sparking at their fingertips, blue and violet light crackling in the air around them.
I put my palms up in defense, fear crawling up me.
“What the fuck?” I say.
The white-haired one’s lip curls. “A Blackwood,” he snarls. His voice is rough, gravelly, filled with hatred. “Take him down!”
“Wait—“ I try to use my magic in defense, but nothing happens.
Just strange sparks of blue-gold light that flicker and die against my palms. Desperation claws at me, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
“This is bad fucking timing,” I mutter, frustration and fear flooding through me. “You want to act up now?”
I brace myself, using my hands as a shield to my face when the warlocks start to attack. Magic flames shoot toward me, violet and blue fire streaking through the air, but when nothing happens, I slowly remove my arms, confusion overtaking my fear.
The flames pass right through me.
“What in the actual fuck?” I stare at my hands, then at the warlocks, my mind struggling to comprehend what’s happening.
The younger one rocks back. “A time traveler!” he shouts, lowering his hands. The flames die immediately.
They both stop using their magic.
“A time traveler?” I echo, looking down at my hands, horror dawning. “What?”
I get distracted from the warlocks when I hear the pounding steps—no, paw steps—of something coming out of the forest. Then amber eyes illuminate the darkness. My heart leaps into my throat, recognizing her immediately.
She emerges slowly from the trees.
Love and terror collide inside me, leaving me speechless.
I know this lioness.
She’s massive.
That’s the first thing—she’s bigger than I remember, or maybe I’ve just never seen her like this with something to fight for.
Her coat is tawny gold in the moonlight.
Her ears are flat against her head. Her tail rides low behind her, the tassel still, and her shoulders roll once with each step she takes toward us.
Her focus stays locked on the warlocks.
She moves the way a lion prepares to attack its prey.
“Mara?” I whisper.
She charges.
A roar tears from her throat, deep and primal, her teeth bared as she launches herself toward the warlocks. Her claws dig into the earth, propelling her forward, her body a blur of muscle and fury. My heart lurches with fear for her.
“No!” I shout, desperation tearing through me. “Mara, no!”
But it’s too late.
The warlocks cast their magic. I try to cast something—anything—to stop her, but my magic still isn’t working. Just sparks. Just useless, flickering light that dies against my palms. Helplessness crushes me, stealing my breath.
Mara’s lion leaps into the air, her body stretched long and powerful, ready to tackle them down. Her claws are extended, her jaws open, her roar splitting the night.
The magic slams into her mid-air.
She goes flying back, her body twisting violently as the spell hits her square in the chest. She crashes to the ground hard, and the moment she lands, she shifts. Her lion form blurs, fur receding, limbs reshaping, until she’s human again, naked, sprawled on her belly in the dirt.
“MARA!” I scream, running for her, my voice breaking with anguish. Every cell in my body strains toward her, desperate to reach her.
She weakly lifts her head, her amber eyes finding mine. She tries to pull herself up, her arms shaking, but she slams back down to the ground. Her tail goes completely limp. She starts to cough, and blood spills from her lips, dark and thick, staining her chin.
I watch the warlocks reach her, horror freezing me in place.
One of them, the younger one, kicks her in the stomach.
She rolls onto her back, gasping, choking, staring up at them with wide, terrified eyes. The sight of her pain tears something vital inside me.
“Please,” I beg, my voice breaking, tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t kill my mate.” The words come out raw, ripped from the deepest part of me.
She finally looks at me. “Aaron,” she chokes out, coughing, blood bubbling from her mouth. The love in her eyes, even now, shatters what remains of my heart.
The warlocks turn to me.
The white-haired one tilts his head. “You time traveled just to watch your mate die?” His voice is cold, mocking. “How sad.”
I try to use my magic again, desperate, frantic, pulling at it with everything I have. But nothing happens. Why is this happening? Why? Rage and despair battle within me, leaving me trembling.
The younger warlock raises his hand. Magic swirls around his palm, bright and violent, forming into a blade. It solidifies.
Then he slams it right into Mara’s chest.
Her eyes go wide.
She chokes, her body convulsing as the blade pierces through her. Blood pours from the wound, spreading across her chest, soaking into the dirt beneath her. Her hands reach up weakly, trembling, grasping at nothing.
I fall to my knees.
The mate bond screams inside me, white-hot agony ripping through me. My vision blurs, darkness creeping in at the edges. I can’t breathe. Can’t process what I’m seeing. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Not my Mara.
It feels like I’ve been stabbed. Like the blade went through me too. The pain is indescribable, tearing through my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I reach out to touch her, but I can’t feel her. My hand passes through her like she’s smoke.
I feel nothing.
She chokes, staring into my eyes, and I watch the life drain from them. The light—the warmth, the fire that’s always burned in her amber gaze—it fades.
And then she’s gone.