CHAPTER 36

CATRIONA

The world around me was wrong.

I stood frozen, my breath caught in my chest as the ground pulsed beneath my bare feet, white fog swirling thick as if the air itself wanted to smother me. My heart thudded when I heard it—my mother’s voice, soft but urgent, threading through the mist.

“Catriona…”

I spun, my eyes burning with sudden tears, searching, reaching—yet there was nothing. Just fog, endless and choking.

“Mom?” My voice cracked, desperate.

Again, her voice called, firmer now. “Run.”

Confusion split through me like lightning. “Where are you?” I whispered, the tears spilling free as I turned in frantic circles. That was when I saw them.

The creatures. The same skeletal things that had dragged us into the mud. Their empty sockets locked on me as they sprinted through the mist, their limbs jerking like broken marionettes, too fast, too many.

My body moved before my mind could. I ran, every step pounding against ground I couldn’t even see, the fog wrapping around me so thick I could barely tell up from down. My lungs burned, the sound of their pursuit clawing at my ears.

Then—my foot caught.

I tumbled hard, crashing into unseen earth, my palms scraping, my knees splitting raw. For a breath I lay there, gasping, shaking—but then I pushed up, forcing myself to look around.

And froze.

The fog peeled back as though the world itself wanted me to see. I was no longer running blindly—I stood at the base of something vast, something impossible.

A tree towered into the heavens, its roots twisting through air and soil alike, glowing with veins of crystal blue. The trunk coiled like it had grown from both earth and sky, and above it, the full moon blazed, pouring silver light over everything. The branches shimmered as though alive, the air buzzing with power.

And there, tangled within that radiant heart of crystal, were shapes—familiar shapes. My guardians. Held, bound, sleeping yet alive.

I staggered back, the breath shoving out of me. My guardians… trapped in that luminous prison.

A shadow shifted.

I whipped around, and there he was. The old man. His cloak hung heavy, his eyes dark hollows that saw through me like I was nothing. He turned slowly, a sneer tugging at his lips.

“Do you think I’m going to let you and that witch release them?” His voice was cold, the sound of stone grinding against stone.

My eyes darted back to the glowing tree, my heart cracking as the truth sank in. The guardians weren’t just here. They were bound inside the crystal. Prisoners in the very thing that might be their salvation—or their tomb.

And he was standing between me and them.

My eyes snapped back to the crystalline tree, the prison of light that held my guardians. They shimmered faintly inside the crystal, suspended in silence, their forms blurred as though trapped in frozen water. My throat tightened. They weren’t gone. They weren’t destroyed. They were here—waiting.

“You can’t keep them forever,” I whispered, though my voice shook. “Not when they belong to me.”

The old man’s laugh scraped the fog like a blade. “Child, they were never yours. They were chained because of you. Born because of you. And when you fall, they will fall with you.”

“No,” I said, firmer this time. Tears blurred my vision, but my steps carried me forward. Each pulse of the glowing trunk hummed in my bones, the tree itself calling me closer. “They’re mine. They’ve always been mine.”

The fog swirled darker, thicker, but I pressed forward, palms trembling as I lifted them to the crystal bark. Cold seared my skin. My breath hitched. It was like touching death.

Behind me, the creatures screeched, the Hollowed clawing closer, their bones rattling like drums of war.

“Run,” the old man hissed, his voice overlapping with my mother’s echo from before. Run, child. Run before you’re broken.

But my feet stayed rooted. My body shook, my heart hammering as I pressed harder against the crystal. My fingers burned as though the light would eat me alive.

And then—something shifted.

A flicker. A spark.

The guardians inside stirred. One lifted its head, slow, heavy, like waking from centuries of sleep. Another’s hand twitched, pressing against the barrier opposite mine. The bond surged through me like fire flooding veins.

“Mama,” I choked out, though I didn’t know if I was calling for her or the figures trapped before me. “Please. Show me how.”

The old man’s voice thundered, rattling the branches above. “If you release them, girl, you release war itself. You release the end.”

His words clawed at me, but then I remembered Jayden’s vow. Nothing will happen. I’ll find a way. I remembered Abriel’s smile, his little voice begging me not to get hurt again.

And I knew.

I had to do this.

Closing my eyes, I drew every thread of myself toward the bond—the tether of blood, of spirit, of love that bound me to these guardians. My hands seared, blistering, but I didn’t let go. Instead, I screamed—not in fear but in fury, in grief, in desperate love for my son.

The tree answered.

A crack ripped through the crystal, light bleeding like liquid fire. The Hollowed screeched, stumbling back as though the sound itself scalded them. The old man roared, the earth trembling beneath his wrath.

“NO!” His shadow lunged, but the crystal flared.

And then—like chains snapping, like doors flinging open—the light exploded outward.

Figures stepped free.

Tall. Fierce All white. Radiant with the strength of a thousand lifetimes. My guardians. Their eyes glowed as they turned toward me, their power shaking the ground itself.

I collapsed to my knees, sobbing, my blistered hands pressed against my chest. Relief and awe twisted inside me until I couldn’t breathe.

The old man’s shape wavered in the fog, his voice a low snarl. “You’ve doomed us all, child.”

But for the first time since I’d been dragged into this nightmare, I didn’t feel small. I didn’t feel helpless.

Because I wasn’t alone anymore.

My guardians had returned.

The old man’s snarl tore through the air, guttural and hateful. “You didn’t have to do this.” His hand lifted, fingers curling, and invisible force slammed into me like a storm.

The world spun—then agony. My back struck the rock so hard the air ripped from my lungs. I gasped, choking on nothing, every rib screaming as I clawed for breath.

And then—silence.

When I forced my eyes open, the fog, the crystal, the guardians—it was all gone. I was back in the woods, the night air cold and sharp in my throat.

A small shadow hovered above me.

“Mummy…”

My eyes went wide. “Abriel!” My voice cracked as I surged upright and dragged him into my arms, crushing him against me. “Oh, baby—are you hurt? Are you alright? Talk to me!”

He shook his head against my chest, curls damp with sweat. “I’m fine…” He paused, his little body trembling. “But he’s not fine.”

I froze. My grip loosened just enough for me to pull him back, my eyes narrowing. “Who?”

Abriel’s tiny hand lifted, pointing behind me.

My blood iced.

I turned, following the small, trembling finger—

And saw him.

Gabriel.

He lay sprawled on the ground, his body too still, blood seeping dark into the earth beneath him. His chest rose shallow, every breath a battle.

For a heartbeat, my mind went blank—just the memory flashing of him dragged into the mud by those creatures, his body torn from ours. And now… here he was. Broken.

I swallowed hard, gripping Abriel’s hand like it was my lifeline, and pulled us both toward him. Each step cut through the panic roaring in my chest.

When I reached him, I crouched down, my knees shaking, my eyes burning at the sight. His skin was pale under the blood, his lips tinged gray. Too much blood.

“Gabriel,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I winced at the sight. “Oh Lord, what happened to you…”

My hands hovered uselessly for a moment, afraid to touch him, afraid to make it worse—but then I steadied myself, placing my palm lightly against his chest, desperate to feel the beat of his heart.

It was there. Weak. But there.

Panic clawed at my chest. He was bleeding too much—too fast. If I didn’t act, Gabriel was going to die right here in front of me.

“God, no,” I whispered, my hands trembling as I searched frantically for something—anything—to stop the blood pouring from his leg. My eyes darted over the ground, but there was nothing but mud, leaves, and my own useless hands.

“Fuck it,” I muttered through clenched teeth. My fingers went to the clasp beneath my blouse, yanking at fabric, tearing the lace free. I ripped my bra apart, twisted it tight, and pressed it against his thigh, pulling hard until the blood slowed. He groaned but didn’t wake.

Beside me, Abriel’s little voice trembled. “I tried to heal him, Mommy… but I failed.” His big eyes shimmered with guilt, his lips trembling.

I turned to him quickly, my heart aching. “No, sweetheart. Don’t you ever say that.” I cupped his cheek, forcing his gaze to mine. “You’re brave. You’re strong. You’ve done more than anyone could ask of you. None of this is your fault, do you hear me?”

His small head bobbed, though his eyes stayed wet. I kissed his forehead and turned back to Gabriel—

And then he gasped, his body shuddering. His eyelids fluttered open.

“Gabriel!” I cried, my voice breaking as relief and terror tangled inside me. My eyes widened. “Can you see me? Gabriel—stay with me!”

His gaze locked on mine, but there was no warmth in it. Just a cold, distant glare that made my skin prickle.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Don’t you dare.” My panic broke free, raw and sharp, and I slapped his cheek—not hard, but enough to snap him back. “Wake up, damn you!”

For a moment, silence. Then, faintly, his lips curled. “Well… this reminds me of the first time I got slapped by you. And now the second time. Still by you.”

I drew back, stunned. My heart slammed against my ribs. “I—I’m sorry. You scared me.”

He groaned, pushing himself up on one elbow, pain etched deep into his face. When his eyes dropped to his leg, his brow furrowed. Then, despite the blood and weakness, he huffed out a sound almost like laughter.

“You wrapped my leg with your bra?”

Heat flared in my cheeks. “I didn’t exactly have a first-aid kit lying around,” I shot back, flustered but steady.

He smirked faintly, then tried to sit more upright, wincing hard. “Resourceful as ever.”

I shook my head quickly, brushing dirt and sweat from my forehead. “Don’t joke about this. Tell me—what happened? How bad is it?”

Instead of answering, his eyes lifted to me, then to Abriel. “Are you both alright?”

I swallowed hard, my hand tightening around my son’s. “We’re fine,” I said softly.

“Good.” His voice was gravel now, strained. He shifted, forcing himself into a seated position despite the pain. “Then we have to get the hell out of here before those sickening creatures come back.”

I drew a breath, steadying myself, and shook my head. “I don’t think they will.”

His gaze snapped to me, sharp with doubt. “Why?”

I exhaled slowly, remembering the light, the shimmer, the tree, the guardians. “Because I freed them. My guardians. I can feel them. They’re with me now… and they won’t let those creatures touch us again.”

Gabriel’s expression softened only a little, but he nodded once. “Then that’s something.” His jaw tightened. “But what about that sick old man? Won’t he come after the boy again?”

I pulled Abriel closer, pressing a kiss to his curls. “I don’t think so,” I whispered, though my chest tightened at the thought. “Not anymore. Not with my guardians back.”

Gabriel’s gaze lingered on me, unreadable, before he let out a breath. “That’s good to hear.” He pushed to his feet with a groan, using the tree for support. “Now, we’ve got to get the hell out of this dumb place. It’s not safe for a little boy.”

I nodded, gathering my strength, my son’s small hand gripping mine tightly.

We moved slowly, Gabriel leaning heavier with every step, my arm braced under his as Abriel clutched my other hand. Each shuffle through the twisted woods felt endless, like the trees themselves were closing in on us.

“Why aren’t you healing?” I asked finally, my voice breaking the silence. “Your wolf is supposed to heal you.”

Gabriel let out a low, pained laugh, though it carried no humor. “Sometimes the body bleeds faster than the wolf can stitch. Sometimes the spirit takes its time reminding you you’re mortal.”

The answer made my stomach twist, but I said nothing. I couldn’t let Abriel hear the fear in my voice.

We walked until our feet dragged, until even Abriel’s small body sagged against me, his voice soft. “Mommy, I want to rest.”

My heart squeezed. “Alright, baby.”

We reached a clearing, the suffocating tangle of trees giving way to a space where the fog thinned. The twisted trunks arched like ribs, their limbs clawing at the gray sky. It was still dark, still strange—but at least here we could breathe.

We settled onto the cold earth. Abriel curled against me, clutching his stuffed animal tight, his breathing already slowing into sleep.

Silence pressed heavy, broken only by Gabriel’s ragged breaths.

Then, out of nowhere, his voice cut through, rough and low. “Did you know about it?”

I turned my head, frowning. “About what?”

His eyes, sharp even through pain, locked on mine. “About what Jayden said. About the daughter you gave birth to.” His throat bobbed as he forced the words. “Was it mine? Was she… our daughter?”