Chapter 6: The Border Between Worlds

The woods felt different when we started moving again.

Quieter. Heavier. The air had a taste to it now — like electricity before a storm.

Kael led the way, his broad back tense beneath his dark shirt. Damon followed close, silent as shadow, while Lucian whistled low, twirling a knife between his fingers as if the night belonged to him.

I kept close to Kael, though I didn’t mean to. Something in me gravitated toward his heat, the pull of his scent, the strange gravity that seemed to bend the space between us.

We’d crossed a shallow part of the river, my boots soaked, the cold biting up my legs. On the other side, the forest thickened, the trees older, taller — their trunks scarred with marks that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

Kael stopped suddenly.

“This is it,” he said quietly. “The border.”

I frowned. “Between what and what?”

Lucian’s grin was all teeth. “Between your world and ours, sweetheart.”

He stepped forward and drew his blade lightly along one of the glowing marks. The air rippled where the steel touched the bark, a shimmer spreading outward like heat over pavement.

My breath caught. “What is that?”

“Old magic,” Damon said. “The line that keeps humans out and our kind in.”

Kael turned to face me, his eyes burning gold in the dark. “Once you cross, you can’t return without permission from the High Council.”

“Permission?” I repeated. “You mean… I’ll be trapped?”

His jaw clenched. “Not trapped. Protected.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

But he didn’t argue. He only reached for my hand. His fingers were warm, rough, steady.

“Raine,” he said softly. “If you come with me, you come as part of us. You’ll be safe, I promise it.”

I hesitated. The air beyond the trees pulsed faintly, almost alive.

Part of me wanted to run — to turn back, to pretend this was all a fever dream.

But another part, deeper and more dangerous, whispered that I already belonged to this world. To them.

I took his hand.

Kael squeezed once, then stepped forward, pulling me through the shimmer.

For a heartbeat, the world dissolved. My lungs locked as if I were underwater, light flashing around me — gold, silver, crimson. Then it was gone.

The forest on the other side was nothing like the one I knew.

The air was thicker, warmer. The trees glowed faintly from within, roots spreading like veins of light underfoot. I could hear heartbeats — not mine, not theirs, but dozens of them — faint and rhythmic in the distance.

“Welcome to the Wyrden Woods,” Lucian murmured. “Home of the Blackthorn pack.”

Before I could answer, a low growl rolled through the night.

Shapes moved between the trees — tall, broad-shouldered men and women, their eyes catching the light like molten gold. Wolves in human form.

They surrounded us in seconds.

“Kael.” One stepped forward — older, scarred, his hair streaked with gray. “You shouldn’t be here. Not with her.” His gaze flicked to me, nostrils flaring. “She’s human.”

The word sounded like a curse.

Kael straightened, his presence shifting. I could feel the Alpha in him, the command that lived in his blood.

“She’s mine,” he said simply.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“Yours?” the older wolf hissed. “You would taint the pack with human blood?”

Lucian laughed, low and dangerous. “Careful, old man. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

The elder ignored him, eyes locked on Kael. “You’ve been gone too long. You’ve forgotten what it means to lead.”

Kael’s voice was calm, but his power bled through every word. “No, Elder Bran. I remember exactly what it means. It means protecting what’s mine.”

Damon stepped forward then, his tone smoother but no less commanding. “He speaks truth. The bond is sealed. Denying it will only bring the wrath of the Moon herself.”

That silenced them. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Bran’s eyes narrowed. “If what you say is true, she’ll bring change to this pack. Chaos, maybe. The Council won’t approve.”

“Then the Council can come find me,” Kael said. “Until then, she stays.”

The elder glared but finally backed away, motioning for the others to do the same. One by one, the wolves melted back into the trees, leaving the four of us alone again.

When they were gone, I finally exhaled. “So that went well.”

Lucian grinned. “Better than I expected, actually. No one tried to tear your throat out.”

“Comforting,” I muttered.

Kael’s hand brushed my back lightly. “Don’t mind them. They fear what they don’t understand.”

“They hate me,” I said quietly. “You saw their faces.”

“They’ll learn,” Damon said. “Or they’ll answer to us.”

But the reassurance felt hollow. The truth sank in like cold rain — I didn’t belong here. No matter what they said, no matter what I felt.

Still, the pull between us thrummed stronger with every step we took deeper into their world.

We reached a clearing where a waterfall spilled into a glowing pool. Small houses built of stone and timber circled the edge, smoke curling from chimneys. It was beautiful, wild, ancient.

“This is home,” Kael said softly. “For now.”

He led me toward one of the houses — larger than the rest, its door carved with the same glowing sigils that had marked the border.

Inside, the air smelled of pine and rain. A fire crackled in the hearth.

I sank onto a fur-covered bench, exhaustion crashing over me. Kael knelt in front of me, brushing damp hair from my face.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured. “You need rest.”

“I need answers,” I said.

Lucian flopped into a chair across the room, stretching like a cat. “She’s got fire. I like her.”

Kael shot him a look but didn’t argue. “Ask what you need to know.”

“Why me?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Out of every woman in both worlds — why would fate choose me?”

Kael’s eyes softened, gold fading toward amber. “I’ve asked the same question every night since you found me.”

Damon spoke quietly from the corner. “The Moon chooses. Sometimes her reasons aren’t for us to understand.”

Lucian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But if you ask me, she’s got taste.”

I rolled my eyes, but the tension in my chest eased a little.

Kael caught my chin gently, tilting my face toward his. His voice was low, rough around the edges. “You feel it too, don’t you? The pull.”

I hesitated — then nodded. “It’s like something’s tied to my ribs. Like if I move too far, it’ll snap.”

“That’s the bond,” he said. “It connects us. Body, mind, soul.”

“Sounds like a curse,” I whispered.

Kael’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. “Maybe. But some curses are worth keeping.”

My breath caught. His eyes held mine, steady and burning. For a moment, the world shrank until it was just him — the firelight on his skin, the scent of pine and smoke, the faint tremor in his hand where it rested against my knee.

Damon’s voice broke the spell. “We should rest. The Council will summon us at dawn.”

Kael nodded but didn’t move away. “Go ahead. I’ll stay with her.”

Lucian smirked on his way out. “Of course you will.”

When they were gone, the silence stretched between us — thick with all the things we weren’t saying.

Kael’s fingers brushed mine. “I know this is too much. But I meant what I said — you’ll have your freedom here. You can write. You can live. Just… don’t run.”

I looked up at him, searching his face for some trace of deceit. There was none. Only exhaustion, longing, and something dangerously close to hope.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted.

“You can,” he said softly. “You’re stronger than you think.”

He stood then, offering his hand. “Come. You should sleep.”

I let him pull me up. The warmth of his hand lingered long after he released it.

He led me to a small room at the back of the house — a bed of furs, a single window overlooking the waterfall. Moonlight spilled across the floor like silver silk.

When he turned to leave, I caught his sleeve. “Kael.”

He paused.

“What happens if I can’t fit into your world?”

He looked back at me, eyes shadowed. “Then I’ll tear down the world until it fits you.”

And then he was gone.

I stood in the quiet, heart pounding, the echo of his words wrapping around me like a promise and a warning all at once.

Outside, the wolves howled — long and low, mourning and wild — and I knew sleep wouldn’t come easily.

Because for the first time since stepping into the woods, I realized something terrifying and true:

The danger wasn’t just this world.

It was how much I already wanted to belong to it.