Chapter 37 Rowan
?ROWAN
The unease in Paeonia’s voice, like she had to beg Rowan for her life, set him on fire.
He couldn’t ignore her if he tried, her light so vibrant it seemed to haunt his shadows with every turn.
He would have tried to push down that fervent feeling, but he needed that fire within him if he stood any chance at killing the Eldritch.
Gods, the fucking Eldritch. How could he have agreed to kill that bastard? A creature that had grown angry this past century, and rightfully so. This had never been Rowan’s problem to pacify, nor his war to fight. It was the pesky humans that ruined the forest and dragged death to their doorstep.
Paeonia skimmed the outskirts of the garden, Castor and Rowan sat a ways back, the sun now entirely set.
He traced her body, the way her skirt swished against the dirt as she admired the flowers.
She had sounded so terrified, but it had to be done.
He had no other way of finding the Eldritch.
And deep down, maybe he felt it equal for her to also have to risk her life.
He hated that he thought that. And he hated it even more that he hated it.
He ran his hand through his hair, his horns glimmering in the moonlight.
He protracted and retracted his claws. Castor moved anxiously by his side, his hand squeezing the hilt of his sword on his hip.
Rowan didn’t bother with steel weaponry; his teeth and claws would be enough.
He didn’t need the metal weighing him down.
Rowan didn’t flinch when Paeonia’s head snapped upward as she stared blankly into the dark woods. She moved oddly, without grace, treading toward the gate. They watched her unlock and leave it open as she moved like a specter toward the tree line. This was it, the Eldritch was summoning her.
The Eldritch was likely joyous when he felt her magic, knowing there was a Gleam Fae still in Lyth. Magic he could harness easily enough to spread the forsaken. He might have sought Rowan out at one point, but Grim Fae are far more grueling to control, their magic more strenuous to wield.
The second Paeonia was out of his sight, his chest sat leaden with distress. The urge to chase after her was so strong, he physically had to pace the garden’s path to distract himself.
He had grown to care for her, something he thought himself incapable of.
He had written it off as lust, as pure, burning primal desire that was forced upon him by the mating bond.
And when she left him, it wasn’t a choice that he felt that pain.
His garden wilted because once you find your mate, being too far from them physically hurts.
But it was more than just that bond. He had never thought he’d succumb to love, or anything close to it. But when Paeonia disappeared into the tree line, knowing how terrified she was, he knew this wasn’t lust that lurched his heart. And that complicated everything.
Castor looked Rowan up and down. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me—” he said with sheer horror.
“Do. Not. Say. It,” Rowan growled, tilting his head to look at his friend who could read him so easily after all these years. Who saw the way his feral instincts turned into infatuation. Something he had never seen with Rowan before.
“Now, as she’s stolen away, is when you’ve realized you love her,” Castor mumbled to himself even after Rowan’s threatening words.
They waited in silence for another thirty minutes, both of their gazes locked on the line of trees. Rowan refused to address Castor’s claim, the air between them sore.
Finally, Rowan stood from his seat along the steps. “Let’s go.”
Castor insisted on coming, refusing to leave Paeonia behind, even if it was dangerous for him. Something about the Stoneborne caring so much for her warmed his heart.
When they reached the woods, Paeonia’s scent still lingering in the air, Rowan rested a hand on the pine before him.
His claws dug into the bark, his mind traveling into the depths of the evergreens.
He searched through the interconnected web of trees, foraging for a light.
Castor moved anxiously beside him, waiting.
It took him several more moments, but there, in the far distance, just a spark, was that light he was searching for. Paeonia.
“I found her.”
“This is deranged,” Castor whispered.
“Yes,” Rowan agreed.
They moved through the tree line, breaking into the dim forest, the moon growing higher in the sky. It was eerily silent. No ice bugs or winter birds. No wind or crunching snow apart from Rowan and Castor. He worried the Eldritch knew they were coming.
The farther they trekked, the foggier the path grew. He would have never been able to find the Eldritch on his own, the forest would shift and move, blocking him out. But since he had his sight on Paeonia, all he had to do was follow her light.
She felt close, the darkness growing, the moon casting taunting shadows on the forest’s floor. They had to move fast. The longer it took, the higher the chance the Eldritch was harming Paeonia.
Castor seemed to have the same thought. “Are we nearing her?”
Rowan could almost feel the warmth of her on his fingertips, almost see the haloed glow of her hair. “Yes.”
Rowan led, slowly making their way around the trunks and hilly ground. Then, a soft shadow—more like a dark mist—began to swell in the trees, suffocating them.
“What is—?” Castor began.
Rowan quickly turned to him when he didn’t finish his sentence, but all he saw was black. Complete darkness enveloped his sight, preventing him from seeing anything at all. “Gods,” he cursed.
Now, the forest was no longer silent. An owl cooed above him, branches shifted to his side.
The air became stagnant. A sharper chill than the winter air seeped through his clothes and slid along his skin.
The shadows pulled back a curtain, Rowan’s eyes darkening, his skin peeling to reveal more treacherous scars.
His neck was wrapped in thick and heavy raised flesh.
Sinewy muscles bloomed around his clenched teeth.
The whites of his left eye went black. He didn’t have to look at his hands to know holes were embedded in his skin, permanent bite marks wrapped around his wrist.
“It’s odd,” Rowan began, turning his body, speaking to the shadowed woods, “how someone of such piety can cast such darkness.”
“I only reveal what is true,” a faded but familiar voice spoke back to him from the depths. “I reveal the darkness within.”
“In everyone but yourself, it seems.” Rowan’s eyes flickered, bouncing around the void, trying to locate his brother. But he knew he wasn’t here, not corporeally.
“Such heinous words for someone condemned to suffer for their wrongdoings.” His brother’s voice was low, floating all around, swirling and slithering into his ears. He shivered with disgust.
“What do you want, Laurus?”
He laughed. “You know exactly what I want.” His voice snaked over his shoulder, and Rowan spun, expecting to see his brother’s ashen hair, his blue eyes, right beside him, but again, he was met with only darkness. “Paeonia,” he sang. “What a pretty name.”
Rowan snarled, shoving his hands out through the black clouds, trying to shake the fog.
“That’s what you’re here for, no?”
“What do you want?” Rowan growled, his eyes narrowing.
“Your salvation.”
“And you’ll get it,” he rumbled. Rowan’s claws sprung from his fingertips, his teeth bright.
“I know I will.”
“Then why the fuck are you here?” Rowan shouted, his silver eyes ablaze.
His brother’s laugh echoed. “Is it so wrong to want to see how my brother is faring?”
“You’ve never seemed inclined to before.”
“That’s because you didn’t find your mate before.
Now that you have— Oh! I can feel the pull.
It hurts, doesn’t it? You always thought yourself above our traditions, but you can’t escape it, Rowan.
You’re burning with primal desire.” He let out a breath.
“And you know she’s falling for you. I can feel it. And you’re going to let her.”
Rowan growled as he darted forward, his hands aimlessly brandishing through the shadows, Laurus’ laugh taunting.
Slowly, the darkness lifted to allow the moon’s glow to dance across the forest’s floor once again.
Rowan puffed out breaths, his chest rising in rapid repetitions as he let his composure settle.
His appearance shifted back to its usual unpleasant exterior.
“Rowan,” Castor called.
He turned, the Stoneborne hustling toward him.
“Gods, where the hell did you go?”
Rowan sucked in a breath, glaring out into the woods, between the trees that lit the way for him. “It was Laurus.”
Castor gaped.
He was glad for moments like this where he couldn’t see his friend’s eyes, couldn’t see the disappointment or alarm.
“Rowan,” he breathed.
“Let’s go—we have to get to her,” Rowan cut in, not wanting to discuss his brother any further. He hadn’t talked about him in over a hundred years, he wasn’t about to start doing it now.
He made it clear why he was seeing him for the first time—because Rowan had found Pae. And now, he was going to fulfill his bargain. He was going to break the curse his brother held him under. And Laurus wanted it to sting—to hurt just as badly as Rowan had hurt him all those years ago.
Maybe it would hurt Rowan like Laurus had planned. Hurt him in a way he never thought himself capable of. But he couldn’t dwell on that while Paeonia’s life was at risk in the hands of the Eldritch.
Rowan followed the shining light that the trees glimmered, the warm pull of her aura. The lightness she radiated and melded with his shadows. His shadows wanted to be extinguished by her light, to be blinded by her warmth. He relished in it.