Chapter 39
39
Anora
I ’m standing barefoot in the mud, my nightgown clinging to me in the cold, damp air. The sky is pitch-black—no stars, no moon. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. In front of me is a village—dark, unfamiliar.
The atmosphere is tense, unnerving. Something about this dream feels different. I glance around, taking in the scene. Large men—huge men—are moving through the village, packing things like they’re preparing to leave. Their movements are quick, calculated.
I turn sharply when I hear the sound of footsteps in the mud behind me. My jaw clenches, my irritation flaring as I spot her again—the woman in the black cloak. She’s always there, always showing up in these dreams to torment me. Her face is hidden, as usual, the darkness of her hood swallowing her features.
She points to the village with one pale hand. “You need to see,” she says, her voice low and soft, like a quiet command .
I roll my eyes. “Of course I need to see,” I snap, shooting her an annoyed look. “That’s what you always say.”
She doesn’t respond. She never responds. I let out an irritated sigh and move forward, stepping closer to the village. The huts are small and primitive, made of straw and wood with crude windows. Everything here feels like it’s from another time, another world entirely. It smells like wet earth and something faintly metallic, and the chill settles deep in my bones as I pick my way through the muddy paths between the huts.
The men are everywhere, towering over me, wild-looking with shaggy hair and full beards. Their sheer size makes my stomach drop—they’re massive, much bigger than Amir, and something about their presence feels almost primal. I keep walking, noticing how none of them seem to see me. It’s like I’m invisible here. The cloaked woman lingers behind me, always just a few steps away, silent as ever.
“What kind of shifters are they?” I wonder quietly to myself, watching their movements, the way their muscles ripple as they heft bags and weapons. They’re too big to be wolves or cats. Way too big.
I stop dead in my tracks when I catch sight of one man further ahead. He pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the ground with a grunt. My brow furrows as I watch him, my curiosity biting at me. His skin is scarred and rough, his broad shoulders covered in faint claw marks. Then, with no warning, he starts to shift.
It happens fast. His bones crack and twist, his hands growing massive claws, his body stretching and expanding as fur sprouts from every inch of him. The sound is eerie, raw, and it freezes me in place. Within seconds, the man is gone, replaced by an enormous brown bear with glowing green eyes. He huffs out a breath, steam curling from his nose in the cold air, and then breaks into a run. The ground shakes under his weight as he slams into a tree, sending it toppling over like it’s nothing.
My eyes go wide. He keeps going, knocking down one tree after another as if they’re made of straw. Is he gathering wood? I can’t tear my eyes away from the power of it, the sheer size of him as he moves from tree to tree like it’s no effort at all.
“Bear shifters,” I whisper to myself, the realization hitting me. I’m in a bear shifter clan. But why? What could I possibly need to see here?
“Anora.”
The cloaked woman’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. She’s pointing again, this time to a large hut on the far edge of the village. Her silence makes me want to yell at her, but my attention keeps flicking back to the bear. He’s still smashing logs, mindlessly creating piles of wood. I feel like I’m caught in some kind of trance, unable to stop watching him.
Then, in the blink of an eye, everything shifts. I’m no longer outside. My surroundings change so suddenly it makes my stomach twist. I find myself standing inside a hut. It’s small but functional—everything here is handmade. The walls are wood, crude but sturdy, and they give off a faint, comforting scent of pine and earth. I glance around, noticing the little details. The large wooden table, smooth but uneven, like it was carved by hand. Thin cotton curtains sway slightly near the windows, patched in places but neatly stitched.
I run my fingers over a small cup sitting on the table. The wood is carved with delicate details, swirling patterns etched along its surface. I can’t help but admire the craftsmanship. “Beautiful,” I murmur to myself, tracing my fingers along the rim. The hut feels alive, filled with care and purpose.
The natural smell of the room, rich and earthy, fills my lungs. I close my eyes for a moment, grounding myself in the sensations around me. It almost feels peaceful—except for one thing.
“Why am I here?” I ask, my voice sharp as I spin to face the cloaked woman. She stands in the same place as before, just a few feet away, watching me.
“You need to see,” she repeats, her tone calm, monotone.
I groan and place my hand on my hip, glaring at her. “You keep saying that, but you never explain anything!” My frustration is bubbling over now. “And why the hell can’t I see your face? Are you even real?”
I try stepping closer to her, but it’s useless. The closer I get, the farther away she seems, like some cruel trick of my imagination. I clench my fists, my irritation growing tighter and sharper. Talking to her feels like screaming into a void, and I hate it. It’s like trying to argue with a ghost.
“Just tell me why I’m here!” I snap again. But, as always, she doesn’t answer.
“You need to see,” she says again.
I cross my arms, glaring at the cloaked woman as frustration rolls off me in waves. “I know that,” I snap, huffing through clenched teeth. “See what? What the hell do I need to see?” My voice carries my impatience, sharp and irritated.
I want to go back. Back to Amir, to his scent—warm sandalwood and heady dominance. Back to the feel of him holding me, his touch controlling yet soft, the kind of touch that makes me melt. I want to go back to him and that sweet, perfect moment where nothing else mattered.
“Okay, fine,” I grumble, throwing my hands up in exasperation. Then, I stop dead as something catches my eye. It’s in the air, shimmering and rippling like water, suspended in front of me. I step closer, curiosity pulling at me. I reach out, my fingers brushing against it. It moves under my touch, rippling the way water would, but it doesn’t wet my skin. It feels like water, but it’s not.
“It’s the veil,” the cloaked woman says, her voice eerily calm. “How you enter the past.”
I turn to look at her, narrowing my eyes. “The veil?”
I press my lips together, trying to figure out if I’ve seen this before. If it’s been there the other times, I never noticed it. My curiosity grows, the thought of stepping through it tugging at me. I’ve heard stories, over and over again, of how I’ve time-traveled before—crossed into Amir’s past, seen him when he was lost, offering him moments of hope. Maybe this is my chance to do it again? Hope surges through me like a burning flame. What if I can see him this time, in this moment, just to reassure him that one day we’ll be together? That thought alone fills me with bubbling excitement.
I thrust my hand through the veil. Nothing—just air, but denser, heavier. Drawing a deep breath, I step forward and press my whole body through. It’s like passing through a door, but the air on the other side clings differently—thicker, weightier. Everything here sharpens, more vivid than before. The straw beneath my feet scrapes against my soles with a raw texture I hadn’t noticed until now, rough and real.
I glance down at the wooden cup I touched earlier. Picking it up, I run my fingers over the smooth, carved surface, and it feels more alive in my hands. I bring the rim of the cup to my nose and inhale, taking in the earthy, familiar scent of wood. It’s comforting in its simplicity .
Then, I hear it—heavy footsteps, the sound of weight pressing into the earth with purposeful force. My head snaps up, my heart pounding in my chest. The footsteps grow louder, closer, each one heavier than the last. Panic grips me as I fumble with the cup, dropping it. It clatters sharply against the wooden table, the noise echoing in the tiny hut. My breath catches as the footsteps come to a stop right outside the door.
The door slams open with so much force that it bounces against the wall. I flinch, turning toward the massive figure standing in the doorway. He’s huge—towering, broad, and built like a mountain. His skin is a deep, rich chocolate tone, his chest bare and scarred, his feet muddy and callused.
Purple eyes glow like embers against his sharp, feral face, his thick black beard wild and unkempt. His teeth, sharp and glinting, look as savage as the rest of him. The only thing covering him is a pair of tattered pants, riding low on his waist. Even with the cold air, he doesn’t seem to care.
“Um, hello,” I manage to say, my voice shaky and quiet. He doesn’t answer. Instead, his expression twists into something furious, something unrestrained. A low, guttural growl builds in his chest, rising into a monstrous roar that shakes the walls of the hut.
“You’ve got some nerve sneaking into my village after what your people have done to us, witch! ” His voice is full of venom, the last word spat out like it’s something filthy. The way he says it makes me shrink back instinctively. He can smell it on me—he knows what I am.
“My name is A—” I try to speak, but his hand moves faster than I can react. His massive fingers wrap around my throat, lifting me off my feet. My eyes widen in horror as my airways cut off, the pressure from his grip overwhelming .
“Wait!” I choke out, kicking my legs in vain. “Let me explain!”
His grip tightens, and I claw at his hand, trying desperately to free myself. My lungs burn, my eyes wild with terror. I can feel the raw strength in him, the power radiating through his body. His purple eyes are alight with rage and pain—a deep, seething pain that hasn’t healed. His anger is sharp and unrelenting, bearing down on me like a blade.
He slams me down onto the wooden table behind me. The impact is brutal. The table cracks under the force, collapsing beneath me with a deafening crash. The pain shoots through my back, making me scream out as I hit the ground. My vision blurs for a moment, my ears ringing from the noise.
Before I can recover, his hand wraps around my throat again, yanking me up like I weigh nothing. My legs dangle helplessly as fear and desperation take over. I claw at his hand, scratching and gripping at his arm, but it’s useless. His strength is overwhelming.
His glare remains steady. If anything, it grows colder, more enraged. I feel the shadows of his anguish in his grip, the unrelenting need for vengeance pouring out of him. Every ounce of his energy screams that he wants to hurt me—wants to break me.
I can’t breathe. Panic floods every inch of me as I try, uselessly, to free myself.
He tosses me again, and this time, I slam hard into the cabin wall. I collapse onto the floor with a gasp, blood filling my mouth. I spit it out, red splattering the wood and pooling by my hands. My body aches, my mind races, and I force myself to look up. The shifter roars, stalking toward me with wild eyes. My heart pounds, and I brace myself.
Before he reaches me, the cloaked woman steps forward, her voice low as she murmurs a spell. The air shifts, and suddenly, I’m gone—veiled from sight. The shifter halts mid-step, confusion flickering across his face at my sudden disappearance.
I drag myself to my feet, glaring at her. My pulse pounds in my ears. “You could’ve just told me not to touch anything!” My voice shakes with anger. I reach for her, useless as always. She’s right there, so close, yet she’s impossible to touch or fully see. It’s infuriating. I press a trembling palm to my cheek, trying to center myself. Her finger points ahead, and I finally follow where she’s directing me.
“You need to see,” she says, her tone void of apology or explanation. It’s maddening.
I turn and catch my breath as Amir suddenly teleports into the cabin. I freeze, my chest feeling heavy. He looks different yet achingly familiar, his presence as overwhelming as ever.
His black cloak sweeps the floor, long locks tied back but still falling loosely over his shoulders. His sleeveless shirt reveals the intricate tattoos etched into his arms, each line a testament to his power.
Amir steps forward, sniffing the air, sharp and deliberate. His golden eyes narrow, and his face hardens as he picks up the scent that lingers—the scent of me.
The shifter, recognizing him, drops to his knees instantly.
Amir moves further into the room, stopping by the wall where my blood still stains the wood. He lifts his fingers and swipes it up, bringing it to his lips. A spark of unease ripples through me as anger flashes across his face.
“No! Wait! He didn’t know!” I scream, stepping forward, but the veil holds me back. My voice doesn’t reach him. My fists pound against the veil, but it doesn’t budge. I glance at the cloaked woman. “Why are you doing this? Stop him!” She doesn’t move.
Amir turns to the shifter, his tone terrifyingly calm. “You hurt my mate.”
The shifter stammers, his fear palpable. “My Lord, I—I didn’t know. I thought it was a witch.”
Amir lifts his hand, and the shifter rises off the ground, feet dangling helplessly. Amir’s anger radiates through the room, thick and tangible.
“She is a witch,” Amir growls. “She visits me from the future. But something tells me now she won’t come back. You’ve scared her off permanently.”
With a flick of his wrist, Amir slams the shifter to the ground. “I’m not just going to kill you, Alpha,” Amir says, his voice dripping with venom. “I’m going to destroy your clan. You took from me, so now I’ll take everything from you.”
“No!” I shout, helplessly pounding against the veil as Amir snaps his fingers. The shifter disintegrates into nothing but ash.
The rage in Amir doesn’t ease—it builds. His eyes darken, the warmth I know turning cold. My stomach churns as I recognize this look. I’ve seen it before, the hint of it when I threatened to leave him.
He teleports out of the cabin. Moments later, I hear shouts in the distance—women, children. A fire spreads somewhere far away, crackling loudly. I cover my ears and sink to the floor. The heat feels close, but it doesn’t reach me. I sit there, frozen, trying to steady my racing thoughts.
“Make him stop!” I cry to the cloaked woman. “Please! Don’t let him do this!” She doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.
“You need to see,” she says again, her voice hollow .
I drop my hands, staring at her through blurred vision. “I want to go home.”
Then, I hear his voice call out to me. “Anora.”
My eyes snap open, and I’m back in bed, wrapped in his arms. He’s staring at me, his gaze carrying a pain I can’t ignore.
For a moment, we just stare at each other in silence. My heart races. I break it first.
“That really happened? You killed them all?”
Amir’s jaw clenches. Slowly, he nods, pulling me into his arms. Part of me wants to resist, but I don’t. His warmth steadies me.
“In that moment, I thought I lost you forever,” he says quietly.
“After losing the Great War, I couldn’t handle losing you too. I snapped. By the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late...” His voice trails off.
“Your six-hundred-year slumber,” I finish.
Amir nods again, his arms tightening around me.
The reality of what I’ve seen sinks in, and it’s like a weight pressing down on me. Beneath the love I feel for him, the truth becomes clear. He’s not just the man I love—he’s a monster. A real monster.
And I love him anyway.