He had kissed me, and I had reciprocated.
I touched my lips, remembering how last night unfolded, as I prepared myself back to the cottage. After all, I was now hale and healthy. Nyra was helping with my hair as she spoke. “Are you related to that Beatrix lady?” “No,” I replied, my voice a little dry. “But she called you her sister,” she said, locking eyes with mine through the mirror as she braided my hair into buns. “Enough with the questions, please. I’d like to be on my way as soon as possible.” I knew my tone was a bit harsh, but it was the only way to stop Nyra’s endless curiosity. Within minutes, I was back at the cottage. It felt so good to be home. My thoughts drifted to the garden—what happened yesterday. He’s finally breaking the bond, I thought, and a smile crept onto my face. “Eva?” I called my wolf, but there was no response. She’d been quiet since everything happened—and I didn’t know why. I’d assumed it was due to my injuries. But now I am healed. Thanks to the healers. Or maybe… Cade. “Eva, talk to me.” I called again, but the silence was deafening. Panic started to rise. I was terrified of losing my wolf. “You’re finally back, Lady Ayra.” Beatrix suddenly appeared from behind the room, making me jerk in surprise. “What now?” I asked, panic tingling in my voice. I was already shaken by Eva’s absence. “I see you’ve realized your wolf is gone,” she said casually. “How do you know that, Beatrix?” I never told anyone about the ritual. No one. “Well,” she smirked, “I found one of your books open. I saw the forbidden ritual you performed.” She leaned against the doorframe, a cherry in one hand and a small book in the other. I hissed and tried to walk past her—until I saw the cover of the book. “Are you reading my journal?” I nearly shouted, snatching it from her hands. She clicked her tongue. “Hmm... it’s interesting.” “Damn you,” I snapped. My journal was private—sacred. “Go clean the attic. It's filthy,” she said flippantly, tossing her hair as she walked out of the house. I looked up toward the attic. Dust streamed down from the half-open hatch. Had she been up there? I grabbed the long broom behind the door and made my way up. The attic was a mess—dust so thick I had to cover my nose with my sleeve. I stumbled around, searching for the light switch, and finally flicked it on. I hurried to the window and flung it open, letting sunlight and fresh air pour in. Just like a regular attic, cartons and curtains are laid around with some old stuff that belong to Mae. I arranged the one I could and saw a box laying at the far end in a corner I dragged myself to the box and sank beside it, breathless and slick with sweat. My hands trembled slightly as I pulled it closer and pried it open. Inside, I found old diaries and brittle, time-worn books. Too tired to go through them properly, I reached under one of the nearby carpets and found a clean, forgotten bag. I stuffed the diaries inside, one by one, dust clouding the air around me. As I rummaged through the rest of the box, something caught my eye—something shiny buried beneath the clutter. Curious, I reached for it with dusty fingers and slowly pulled it free. A necklace. But not just any necklace—this one shimmered faintly, catching what little light crept through the window. I wiped the dirt from its surface, revealing a striking purple locket that gleamed like a forgotten gem. It sparkled under the dim light, hinting that it might glow even brighter in the dark. A small smile tugged at my lips. Maybe coming up here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I placed the locket gently into the bag with the diaries and made my way downstairs. Beatrix was lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine like she hadn’t just violated my privacy. I strode past her and sat on the opposite couch. Silence settled like dust. We were never the type to talk. Even as children, when others mocked or hurt me, Beatrix would stand off to the side—silent. She never lifted a hand to help, even when Mae told her to. Some things, it seems, never change. Beatrix flipped a page of her magazine with infuriating calm, her painted nails tapping the glossy cover like a ticking clock. I sat rigid, bag clutched to my side. The silence between us thickened—not the kind that begged to be broken, but the kind that made your skin itch. She didn’t look at me, but her words slid out, casual and sharp. “You shouldn’t have done that ritual.” My jaw clenched. “You don’t know anything about it.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “I know enough. I know that if it failed, the bond would still be intact… but your wolf might not survive it.” I froze. My heartbeat skipped. “You think I don’t read the same books you hide under your bed?” she added with a fake sweetness. “You’re reckless, Ayra.” I stood. “Says the girl who stood by while I was tormented.” That wiped the smirk from her face—but only for a second. “Don’t pretend like you were the only one hurting,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “You just showed it more.” I stared at her, startled by the crack in her tone. But she wouldn’t meet my eyes. It wasn’t the time to dig deeper. Not now. I turned and left the room, the bag pressed tightly against me. I headed to my room, locking the door behind me. Inside, I sat on the floor and pulled out the purple locket. It shimmered again, now faintly pulsing—almost alive. Carefully, I opened the clasp. A soft “click.” Inside was a folded piece of aged parchment and a small, crescent-shaped rune etched in silver. My breath caught. This wasn’t just jewelry. This was magical. Ancient.
