Chapter 12
WATCHER
From my vantage point hidden deep within the thick foliage, I watch the clearing below with a mixture of impatience and disdain. I had followed them here, always lurking in the shadows, always vigilant.
The panther fight unfolds before me, and I feel a flicker of anticipation. I hope Warrick will finally tear them apart. Not physically, perhaps, but emotionally—destroy their fragile alliance and leave Windy exposed.
I see Windy, all wide-eyed and naive, attempting to cast a spell to protect them. Her beauty, so radiant and pure, is infuriating.
How can they not see through her?
She is nothing special. Just a girl with more luck than sense, relying on broken magic and the misguided devotion of two fools.
Warrick transforms, stepping out of his panther form and into his human guise. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. He was so close to tearing them apart, and now he stands there, smirking and taunting. His presence disrupts the fragile balance between Wallace and Windy, his charisma casting a long shadow over their tentative bond.
As Windy explains their quest for the Solara Bloom, what the witches call moon bloom, her voice filled with conviction, I can’t help but scoff.
She thinks she can break the curse.
She thinks she can save everyone.
It’s pathetic.
She’s pathetic.
When Warrick teases her about having two men lined up, I see Wallace’s face darken with jealousy.
Good. Let them tear each other apart.
They set up camp, and I watch as Wallace takes charge, his eyes never straying far from Windy. His devotion is sickening, his protectiveness unwarranted. She doesn’t deserve it. They should see her for what she is: a liability, a weak link. Someone destined to fail and bring ruin upon them all.
Warrick, with his easy charm and knowing smiles, flirts openly with Windy. It’s almost unbearable to watch as she blushes and giggles, soaking up the attention.
Does she not realize how easily he could destroy her? Or does she think herself immune to his manipulations?
Wallace, for his part, tries to mask his jealousy, but it’s clear in every stiff movement, every sideways glance. He’s so caught up in his desire to protect her that he can’t see the truth. He can’t see how unworthy she is of his loyalty. Soon, though, they’ll all see. They’ll see how worthless she is.
When Windy finally retreats and falls asleep, leaving Wallace and Warrick to their uneasy truce, I relax slightly. My muscles, tense for so long, begin to unwind, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. The fire crackles softly, the sound mingling with the night’s symphony of insects and rustling leaves.
I’ve been Windy’s unseen watcher for so long, always watching, always waiting. I was ready to step in during the fight if necessary, but part of me hoped I wouldn’t have to.
Her luck is infuriating.
Warrick eventually lies down, leaving Wallace to keep watch. His eyes are fixed on Windy, a look of determination etched into his features. I feel a pang of something that might be a pity. She’ll be his downfall if he’s not careful.
My thoughts drift back to the fight, to the moment Windy’s spell exploded, nearly killing them both. She’s dangerous, more so than she realizes. Her power is unstable, and her control is lacking. Yet, they follow her. I can’t help but wonder how this will all end.
Will they find the moon bloom?
Will they break the curse?
Or will they finally see Windy for the liability she is and abandon her to her fate?
The thought brings a grim smile to my lips. It’s only a matter of time. She can’t keep up this charade forever. Eventually, her luck will run out and when it does, I’ll be there to see her fall.
I shift slightly, my eyes never leaving the clearing. The fire burns lower, casting flickering shadows that dance across the sleeping forms. Wallace remains vigilant, his gaze unwavering. He’s a fool, but at least he’s dedicated. It’s almost admirable, in a pathetic sort of way.
Warrick’s motives are less clear.
Does he truly care for Windy or is he merely playing a game?
His interest in her seems genuine at times, but I know better than to trust appearances. He’s a shapeshifting witch, after all. Deception is in his nature.
As the night deepens, I settle into a more comfortable position, my senses alert for any sign of danger. I may despise Windy, but my duty is clear. For now, I’ll continue to watch, to guard. But my patience is wearing thin.
They think they’re on a noble quest, that they’re heroes in a grand story. But they’re wrong. This isn’t a fairy tale, and there are no guaranteed happy endings.
I lean back against the tree, my eyes narrowing as I watch the flickering flames. The forest is silent now, the night holding its breath. Soon, everything will change. Soon, they’ll see. And I’ll be here, waiting.