Silver Crest Stone

Chapter 5

Those words sent a ripple through me, a tingling sensation spreading below my waist, igniting a strange mix of curiosity and fear. I swallowed hard, heat rising to my cheeks as I forced myself to look away. What if he noticed? What if he could read the chaos in my head?

Before I could gather myself, the door swung open with a loud creak, slamming against the wall. My heart jolted, and I turned sharply. A figure burst in, his steps hurried and his face pale, but then—he froze.

I expected him to recover, to step aside, to say something. But he didn’t. His gaze fell on us, wide-eyed, almost hesitant.

“I'm sorry, Alpha!” George stammered, his voice breaking the thick silence.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” Nergal’s voice boomed, sharp and commanding, his back rigid as he turned to face George fully.

“I... I didn’t know, I just thought—”

“What brings you here?” Nergal cut him off, his tone cold enough to freeze fire.

George gulped audibly, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “It’s confirmed—there are no traces of them left. We can move to the North Pole.”

Nergal’s expression darkened. His voice dropped to a menacing growl. “Not we.”

George blinked, clearly confused.

“You will go back,” Nergal commanded, his words sharp as a blade. “Cancel all my meetings for the week. Assign guards to stay behind and watch for the Witch. And send a letter to my brother—inform him immediately.”

“Yes, Alpha!” George bowed low, but as he straightened, his eyes flicked to mine. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat too long, and shame rolled over me like a tidal wave.

Nergal didn’t miss the exchange. “Leave.”

George nodded hastily, disappearing through the door like a shadow chased by the sun.

I tried to speak, to break the tension in the room, but my voice betrayed me. Before I could say anything, Nergal was beside me.

“Let me help you back to the bed.” His voice had softened, but the commanding undertone remained.

I nodded silently, dismissively, and began to limp back to the bed on my own. He stayed close, watching as I struggled, but didn’t interfere. When I finally sat down, my thoughts were still tangled in the events of a moment ago.

The room fell silent again. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. I could feel his eyes on me, burning through the quiet.

I avoided his gaze, staring at the floor, the walls—anything but him. Yet, the longer the silence stretched, the more unbearable it became.

Finally, I broke. “Tell me something.” My voice was low, hesitant.

“Go ahead,” he said, his tone unreadable.

“How is Old Miss Ray connected to you?”

His lips curled into the faintest smirk. “Jealous?”

My head snapped up, my brows furrowing. “Excuse me? Why would I be?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, like the roll of distant thunder. “No reason.”

I glared at him, heat rising in my chest. “You’re impossible,” I muttered under my breath.

“Did you say something?” he asked, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.

“No!” I snapped. “Except for the question I asked that you’ve conveniently ignored.”

His expression shifted slightly, the humor fading. “I’m Nergal Vorgath, second son of Vorgath. And Merida... she’s a witch we’ve been hunting for centuries.”

“Centuries?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, pouring himself a glass of wine and then another. He handed one to me, his fingers brushing mine for a fleeting moment.

“For a very long time,” he said simply, taking a sip.

I stared at the glass in my hands, the deep red liquid swirling as I swirled it absentmindedly. “How did you know about the orphanage?” he asked suddenly.

“I don’t remember much,” I admitted. “I grew up there. That’s all I know.”

“Do you remember being lost? Or having parents?”

“No. Nothing.” My voice faltered, my curiosity now as sharp as his. “Why?”

His gaze sharpened. “Tell me about the orphanage. What happens when you come of age?”

I hesitated. “The girls... we had a separate dorm. When you come of age, you’re given a choice—to stay or leave. Most choose to leave.”

“And you?”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “It was exciting, the thought of leaving. I’d heard so much about the outside world, about the freedom. But then—” My voice cracked. I looked away, gripping the glass tightly.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice softer now.

“One night, I was sleepwalking. I don’t know why, but I wandered into the central hall. There was a circle of newly aged orphans... and Old Miss Ray was standing in the middle. I hid behind a pillar, watching.

“She smiled at them and said, ‘Since you’ve chosen to leave, you are free to go.’ I thought she meant it—I thought they were free.” My voice trembled as the memory clawed its way to the surface. “But then... she killed them. All of them. One by one. Their screams still haunt me.”

I felt his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“She found me,” I continued. “I tried to run, but she caught me. Ever since that night, she’s been watching me. I’ve kept attempting to run from her ever since.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Nergal’s gaze was heavy, unreadable.

“You’re not running anymore,” he said finally, his voice firm. “Not while I’m here.”

I didn’t know whether to feel comforted or terrified.

My thoughts drifted back to the conversation, to the half silver crest that hung around my neck. My fingers instinctively traced its cool, smooth edges as I turned to him, the question heavy on my tongue.

“So, why is she after this?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes dropped to the crest, lingering there for a moment, as though it held answers he had been searching for. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

My breath hitched as I saw it—a fragment of silver, identical to the one on my neck. He held it in his palm, the two pieces unmistakably part of the same whole.

“How did you…” My voice faltered, the words refusing to come.

He studied the piece for a moment before meeting my gaze. “I found it the same night I was monitoring the surrounding woods, as I often do. It appeared out of nowhere—fell from the sky, straight into my hands.”

I blinked, confusion and intrigue swirling in my mind. “Fell from the sky? How is that even possible?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze grew distant, as though recalling a memory he hadn’t yet fully grasped. “As soon as it landed in my palm, I caught a scent.”

I tilted my head, my pulse quickening. “What scent?”

His eyes locked onto mine, unflinching. “Yours.”

A shiver coursed through me, not from fear, but from the weight of his words. My scent? How could that be?

I reached up, clutching the crest tighter. “And what does that mean?”

He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. “It means you’ve always been connected to this—this place, this... curse.”

The air grew heavier between us, thick with unspoken truths. “Why is it so important to Merida?” I pressed.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Because Merida isn’t the one in charge. She’s just a puppet—a servant.”

“A servant to who?” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

His voice dropped, his tone dark and foreboding. “To something buried beneath the orphanage. Something ancient.”

A cold chill ran through me, my hand dropping from the crest as if it suddenly burned. The room seemed smaller, the walls closing in as the weight of his words settled on my chest.

“What could that be?” I managed to croak, my throat dry.

He nodded grimly. “I have no idea, that's what I am trying to find out. For the main time hold on to the Crest.”

I stared at the broken crest in his hand, my pulse thundering in my ears. Somehow, I knew he was right. And that terrified me more than anything.