Chapter 44
44
Anora
M y eyes snap open, and I’m standing in what used to be Detroit. I recognize it, but it’s... gone. Ruined. Everything is in shambles—broken-down buildings with crumbling walls, some half-collapsed into piles of debris. Ash and dust coat everything, and the air feels heavy, suffocating. I take a breath, but the sharp scent of something burnt makes my chest ache.
I look up at the sky. The clouds are thick and smoky, swirling with an unnatural darkness, flashes of lightning cutting through them in jagged lines. There’s no sun, no real light, just gray and black smothering the horizon. It’s dead here. The world has been drained of color.
My footsteps crunch against the cracked pavement as I start walking. The road is uneven, jagged chunks of asphalt sticking up, surrounded by weeds that somehow pushed through the decay. I know this place—or I did. This was Woodward Avenue once, bustling, alive. Now, it’s desolate.
The silence presses on me, so heavy it’s almost alive itself. No birds, no rustling wind, no cars, no voices—just stillness. I can hear my own breathing, my bare feet scraping against the broken road.
“Hello?” my voice echoes, bouncing off the hollow shells of buildings, but there’s no response. Just emptiness.
I jump, twisting around at the sound of footsteps behind me. My heart races as the cloaked woman appears, walking toward me from the distance. I groan, rolling my eyes.
“I don’t have time for this!” I yell. She doesn’t say a word, as usual, just keeps walking steadily toward me.
But this time, something’s different. She’s always stayed out of reach before, always hovering just far enough away that I couldn’t touch her or see her clearly. But now, she’s coming closer. Unease coils in my stomach, a knot twisting inside me.
I freeze when she pulls the hood of her cloak down and reveals her face.
It’s me.
But not exactly. This version of me is different. Her eyes are a bright, piercing blue—Aya’s eyes. Her hair is long, but streaked with strands of gray. And when she smiles, her teeth flash. Fangs. Pressure builds in my chest. I become... a vampire?
“Hello, Anora,” she says smoothly, her voice calm, confident. “I’ve been waiting for your powers to activate so I could show you.”
“Show me what?” I demand, my words trembling with a mix of anger and confusion.
Her smile widens as she gestures to the ruins around us with her hands. “Your future home.”
“What?” My voice cracks in disbelief.
She walks past me, heading further down Woodward toward the river. For a moment, I just stand there, my heart pounding in my chest. Then I snap out of it and start running after her.
“Wait! What do you mean this is home?” I call out, catching up to her.
She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look at me. “Everyone is so concerned about Amir and Aya,” she says. “But it’s not about them. It’s you, Anora. You’re the one who ends it all. And when Amir sacrifices himself to save Wintermoon, you will take it. You’ll take everything.”
Her words hit me like a punch. “That doesn’t make any sense! Why would I—” I stop mid-sentence, my mind reeling. The anger I felt earlier, the raw hatred when I thought I might lose Amir, flashes back to me. The power it unlocked, the darkness inside me. I look around, my breathing shallow, panic rising in my chest.
“I did this?” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer but leads me to the riverfront. I follow, my gut twisting with every step.
When the Detroit River comes into view, I gasp. It’s not water anymore. It’s blood. Thick, endless, crimson blood flowing like the lifeblood of this dead world.
The other me sighs, her voice detached, almost bored. “I’ve tried so many spells, so many different strategies to change this...” She points to her face. “I even made alterations to myself. But nothing works. At least the blood river keeps me fed. The vampire spell... it was irreversible. Poor Amir. The thirst for blood is a cruel burden to carry.”
“You did this to yourself?” I ask her, horrified.
She nods. “I have nothing but time now.” Her laugh breaks free—a sharp, bitter sound that sets my teeth on edge.
I stare at her. “You made mistakes. So many mistakes.”
“Yes,” she admits, her tone unapologetic. “But the power of time travel isn’t for just anyone, Anora. I needed you to see. I needed you to learn. So you don’t make the same mistakes. Amir will sacrifice himself to save Wintermoon, his people, his creation. And in doing so, he’ll leave you behind.” She grips the rusted railing overlooking the river, her voice dropping. “His fated mate.”
My stomach churns. “The bear shifter clan. They didn’t have to die,” I snap bitterly.
She smirks. “I needed you to see what happens when the mate bond is pushed too far. You know how Amir reacts when he loses control. But how will you react, Anora, when it’s you who loses him?”
I lunge at her, wanting to grab her, shake her—but my hands pass through her uselessly. Her laugh echoes, sharp and mocking.
“You messed with his mind,” I grit out through clenched teeth, trembling with rage.
“I did.” She shrugs, unapologetic. “He needed rest. A long rest.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
She smiles, and I can see the madness in her eyes. “Long enough to regret everything.”
“I stopped counting three thousand years ago,” she says, her voice flat and cold.
I fall silent, her words slicing through me as I look around at the destruction. The cracked streets, the collapsing buildings, the silence that smothers everything. This is all my doing.
“When Amir dies, he saves Aya, banishing dark magic from the world,” she continues, turning to face me. “But he underestimates the bond you share. He doesn’t understand what leaving you behind will do to you. The loss of him—it breaks you. And knowing he did it to save Aya? That fills you with bitterness, with hatred. It hollows you out.” Her voice is sharp, each word slamming into me like a blow.
I meet her gaze, her bright, ice-blue eyes glowing against the desolate backdrop. She points at them, tilting her head. “You’re a Blackwood. Designed by Fate herself. Cousin to Angie Blackwood, the rightful ruler of Wintermoon. The crown passes to you. Fate designed you to be his equal. You’re meant to rule while he executes. You’re the balance to his chaos. That’s why Fate entrusted you with the spell book and the key, just like she did with Aya Bailey. But where Aya maintained the balance, you destroyed it.”
She turns back to the blood-red waters of the river. Her voice is darker this time, filled with a bitterness I can feel. “You kill Aya. You reclaim dark magic. And then you take it all. Everything.”
I stagger back, realization crashing over me. I glance around at the ruins, at the emptiness of this world. The destroyed buildings. The darkness. The absolute absence of life.
“I did this?” I whisper.
“You can’t live without him,” she says flatly. “And he can’t live without you. If he sacrifices himself for Wintermoon, your grief will destroy everything.”
I inhale sharply, my chest constricting. “You’re the Anora that’s been visiting him from the future. You’ve been driving him insane.”
She nods, stepping closer, the impact of her revelation pulling the breath from my lungs. “I’m not you, Anora. I’m what’s left of you. Something darker. I don’t feel anymore. I don’t care. I came back for him, to steal what moments I could—moments that weren’t mine. Because I can’t have him!” Her voice rises, a sudden burst of raw pain .
I feel it—her anger, her heartbreak. It’s overwhelming. Tears fill my eyes and spill over as I fall to my knees, my fingers digging into the crumbled cement beneath me. This isn’t a dream. It’s too visceral, too real.
“You wanted me to see,” I sob. “You wanted me to learn.”
“Yes,” she says. “Because if you make this choice, this is what awaits you.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“If Amir sacrifices himself,” she says, staring at me sharply, “then you join him. You can’t exist without him. It’s the only way.”
I suck in a shaky breath, her words sinking deep. Then I look up at her and nod. A cold resolve settles in my chest. I understand now.
She holds her hand out to me, her expression empty but her gesture almost... gentle. I reach for it, and she pulls me to my feet.
“Fate is giving us a second chance,” she says, her voice softer for a moment. “I hate that our future is so brief, but trust me: joining him will be far better than this.”
I stand there, her words pressing heavily on my chest. She suddenly pulls me into her arms, her body cold against mine. “Keep faith in Fate,” she whispers. “I hope your outcome is better than mine. But... we’ll see.”
She steps back, her form shifting slightly as she prepares to leave. I wipe my tears and glare at her. “I never want to time travel again. I don’t need to know the past. I don’t need to know the future.”
Her lips curl into a grin, something twisted and amused. “Hopefully, after tomorrow, you never will.” She winks.
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lifts her hands, and golden magic swirls out of her fingertips, cascading down over me like a glowing mist. The energy tingles against my skin.
“Trust me, Anora,” she murmurs, her voice fading. “Death is far, far better than this.”
My eyes close, the magic overtaking me. When I open them, I’m in bed. My heart races as I stare at the ceiling, then shift my gaze to Amir. He’s beside me, his golden eyes watching me with concern. Light and love radiate from him, and for a moment, I feel grounded again.
“You traveled again,” he says softly. “Where did you go, angel?”
I don’t answer him. I can’t. How could I tell him what’s coming? That future is not going to happen. It can’t. I won’t allow it.
Instead, I shift onto him, straddling his waist. I lean down and press my lips to his, pouring everything I feel—love, fear, desperation—into the kiss. He kisses me back with just as much emotion, just as much need.
He flips me onto my back, his body pressing into mine, anchoring me. If these are our last moments, I won’t let them pass without showing him. Without letting him feel how much I love him, how much he means to me.
I will claim him, bind us together forever. Even in death, I will not be without him.