Chapter 46 Elowen
ELOWEN
Morning comes too quickly.
I wake feeling hollow and heavy all at once, like something inside me has been scooped out and replaced with nothing but ache. My eyes feel swollen, my limbs sluggish, and the curse—Goddess help me—the curse is worse than ever.
I wash my face and take a few moments to compose myself before going downstairs. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, especially not the kindly smith’s wife, who has been nothing but generous to us.
But when I step into the warm, low-ceilinged kitchen, the scent of eggs and fresh bread thick in the air, my heart stutters in my chest.
He’s still here—he didn’t leave me after all!
Theron sits at the small wooden table, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his dark hair falling forward as he stares down at the plate in front of him. There’s a heap of scrambled eggs and a slice of thick bread on it, but he hasn’t touched a single bite.
Relief hits me first, followed immediately by hurt. Because he’s here…but he won’t even look at me.
“Good morning, dear,” the smith’s wife says kindly, setting another plate on the table. “Sit, sit—you need to eat before you head out.”
“Thank you,” I murmur automatically, taking a seat across from Theron.
He still doesn’t look up…doesn’t say a word.
The silence between us feels deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced—thicker than the stone walls of the temple, heavier than the weight of my own thoughts.
I pick up my fork and try to eat—I really do. But the moment I bring a bite to my mouth, my stomach turns.
I can’t eat. The food tastes like ash on my tongue, and after forcing down a single bite, I set my fork aside.
Across from me, Theron hasn’t moved at all, and his plate remains untouched. I guess neither of us has much appetite this morning.
After the silent breakfast, we thank the smith and his wife for their kindness and gather our few belongings in silence before stepping out into the cool morning air.
The day is beautiful but still we don’t speak—not a word. The town falls away behind us quickly, the last signs of life disappearing as we walk toward the Southern wastelands.
The change in the scenery is gradual at first. The packed dirt road becomes rougher, broken by stones and patches of dry, cracked earth. The sparse greenery thins and the grass turning brittle and yellow before vanishing altogether.
And then all signs of life disappear. There are no birds, no animals or plants or trees. No sound but the whisper of hot wind skimming over barren ground.
It’s said that the Wastelands were formed with a magic spell went wrong.
A sorcerer wanted to curse the land of his irritating neighbor with barrenness and his magic got out of control and worked a little too well.
Looking around us, I can believe the old story is true because there is nothing here—not even insects.
The land stretches out before us in a bleak, endless expanse of rock and dust. Jagged formations jut up from the earth like broken teeth, their edges sharp and unforgiving.
Scraggly, spiny shrubs—the only living things in this vast, arid plane—cling stubbornly to life in scattered patches, their twisted branches covered in needle-like thorns that catch at my skirts as we pass.
There is no beauty here—only desolation.
The air itself feels wrong—too dry, too hot, as if it’s been baked clean of anything soft or living. It stings my throat when I breathe and leaves a faint, bitter taste on my tongue.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly wishing I’d brought something more than my thin robes to shield me from the harshness of this place.
Beside me, Theron walks in silence, his expression unreadable. I expect him to Shift without a word…to leave everything unsaid between us. But just as we reach the place where the last trace of the town disappears behind us, he stops.
I take a few more steps before realizing he isn’t beside me anymore. When I turn, he’s looking at me.
“I couldn’t help you because I was afraid I’d hurt you,” he blurts out.
For a moment, I can’t speak.
“I’m hurting already,” I whisper at last.
Because it’s the truth. The curse burns through me, relentless and merciless, but it’s not the only thing causing me pain. It also hurts to know he doesn’t want me anymore.
His jaw tightens and he drags a hand through his hair, looking frustrated.
“Fuck—I know you are,” he growls. “But I was afraid I’d change the color of your eyes and get you pregnant. Afraid that once I started with you, I wouldn’t be able to stop. My Drake…” He breaks off, shaking his head.
“What about your Drake?” I ask.
“I told you—he wants you. As much as I do,” he says in a low voice. “His desires, mixed with my own are so strong that I…fuck, I just can’t trust myself anymore, baby.”
“I understand,” I say softly—and I do. Even though my body aches for him—even though every part of me is screaming for his touch—I understand why he’s afraid to help me.
That doesn’t make his rejection hurt any less, though.
For a moment, we just stand there, looking at each other. So close…and yet so impossibly far apart.
Then, without another word, he steps back and begins to Shift.
The change ripples through him in a way that still takes my breath away—bones stretching…muscles reshaping…skin hardening into gleaming tarnished silver scales. The air around him seems to shimmer with heat as his Drake emerges, massive and powerful and utterly breathtaking.
The Drake lowers his great head with a low, mournful sound that vibrates through the ground beneath my feet.
Before I can react, he presses his great head gently against my chest.
I gasp softly as a wave of emotion crashes over me—not mine—his. I feel longing…need…and a deep, aching desire to be close to me in a way I don’t fully understand.
Theron keeps saying that his Drake “wants” me. But from the emotions I’m picking up from the huge creature, it almost feels like he loves me and fears that his love can never be reciprocated.
“Oh…” I whisper, my hands lifting instinctively to rest against the warm, smooth scales of his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know why I’m apologizing—I don’t know why he feels this way. I can love him back—he’s very loveable.
I stroke the side of his massive face, my hands sweeping over his silver scales. I give him scratches behind his eye ridges, just the way he likes but the feelings I’m getting from him are still sad.
The Drake rumbles softly and I feel his renewed longing and the certainty that he wants me—wants to own and possess me like a treasure. He wants to hoard me like all dragons love to hoard gold.
But there’s something else he wants—something he needs, but I can’t quite understand what it is. I wish we could talk in more than just feelings, though I guess the fact that I can feel the huge creature’s emotions is pretty magical. I shouldn’t be greedy.
What is it he wants? What is it he needs? I don’t know but the idea sends a strange shiver through me—not fear exactly, but something deeper. Something more complicated.
“I’m here,” I murmur softly, though I’m not sure if I’m speaking to Theron or his Drake—maybe both. “I’m here for you.”
That will have to be enough since I don’t really understand what he’s asking me.
After a moment, he snorts and lowers himself, bending his foreleg to allow me to climb onto his back.
I gather my skirts and do as he silently asks, settling carefully between the familiar ridges of his spine. Then, with a powerful beat of his wings, the Drake launches us into the air.
I wonder if I’ll ever find out what he wants?