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One hundred and eighty two: first camp
Last Updated:
2025-07-27 20:41:20
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The cursed mate's return One hundred and eighty seven: into the future
Finnick's pov We left before the sun rose. The ground still remembered the heat from the crater. Even the birds stayed quiet.No one said much. After everything, silence felt easier than words.Freya walked beside me, her pace steady, gaze sharp. The glow beneath her skin hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had settled deeper, like it belonged there now. Like she was finally becoming something the leyline had been waiting for.She didn’t look afraid. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.Velza was behind us, her limp worse than before. She didn’t ask for help. She never would. But she leaned harder on her staff, and the way she looked at Freya—like she expected her to catch fire again at any second—made it clear we were all still waiting for something to break.Kye walked in silence, staring at a piece of bark like it held the secrets of the stars. It didn’t, but that never stopped him. He said the constellations were out of order last night. I believed him.Logan took up the rear. Quie
The cursed mate's return One hundred and eighty six: face the north
Finnick's pov We left at first light.Didn’t need to talk about it. We all felt it like the pressure in the air, the pull of something waiting just ahead.The leyline was different now. Not just a thread under our feet. It pulsed slow and deep—like it was breathing. Freya led. She hadn’t said much since the night of the mirror-things. None of us had, but with her, the silence felt heavier as if every word unspoken held weight.She moved like someone who already knew where she was going. Not because she’d seen a map but because something inside her was pointing the way.And I followed, just to be there because if she was going into the dark, I wasn’t about to let her walk in alone.Kye walked in silence, eyes scanning the sky even though his notes were gone. I didn’t need to ask, he was still trying to find sense in the stars. Still chasing a pattern that didn’t want to be caught.Velza limped behind, more tired than I’d ever seen her. She didn’t complain. She never did. But she didn
The cursed mate's return One hundred and eighty five: ash in starts
Finnick's pov The morning came late, like it had second thoughts.Clouds hung low, not storm-heavy—just watching. Same as everything else lately.We didn’t talk much. None of us had the voice for it.Freya was the first to move. No breakfast, no warmth. Just her cloak and her silence, already halfway down the slope before I’d even slung my pack over my shoulder.The leyline was louder now. You couldn’t ignore it anymore—not unless you wanted your ribs to hum with its song.Velza limped beside me, leaning harder on her staff than usual. She didn’t complain. She never did. But I saw the way she avoided the stones carved with old runes. The way her eyes darted to the treeline like she expected something to walk out—not monstrous, not loud.Kye walked behind us, muttering to himself. Trying to work out the math of the sky again. The rhythm of the stars. How often they blinked. The distance between each crack in the firmament.“You ever think maybe it’s not a pattern?” I said without turn
The cursed mate's return One hundred and eighty four: the sky went dark
Finnick's povI’d seen a lot of strange things in my time. Things men weren’t meant to see. But nothing had ever made me feel small, the way that light did, tearing a seam through the heavens like paper.It wasn’t a falling star. Not a god, like Velza whispered.Freya stood like a statue, her face bathed in that cold silver glow. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. She just watched and I didn’t dare speak.Sometimes, silence is all you have left to offer the divine.When we finally moved again—hours later, maybe days in disguise, I found myself watching her more than the path. The way her shoulders bore the weight of something invisible. The way her hands twitched at her sides, like she was always half-ready to cast or cut or run.But she didn’t run.That’s what scares me most about her. Not the glowing, not the way the leyline responds to her like a hound to its master. It’s the stillness. The control. Like she knows she can’t afford to lose it—not even for a second because the moment s
The cursed mate's return One hundred and eighty three: something like a god
Freya's pov We made camp in silence again.This time, not out of exhaustion but caution. The air felt too still, like the world was holding its breath after what we’d done. Even the wind kept its distance, afraid to stir the edges of whatever we’d woken.Velza drew symbols in the dirt with a stick, muttering to herself. Wards, I assumed. Not the kind I’d been taught but older ones. Pre-language, pre-intention. Just shape and sound. She didn’t look up when I sat beside her.“You didn’t ask why I did it,” I said.Velza didn’t pause. “Because I already knew.”“You said there will be others.”“There always are. Once a door remembers it’s a door, it doesn’t want to stay closed.”I watched the symbols take form. Circles within circles. The same pattern I’d seen in the silver gate. The same one from my dreams.“What happens if I stop walking the path?”Velza’s hand stilled.“Then the world keeps walking it without you.”That chilled me more than anything else had. Not because I feared being
The cursed mate's return One hundred and eighty two: first camp
Freya's povVelza didn’t need telling why we broke our camp fast. she was already moving before I could give the order, feet silent against the stone, eyes glowing faintly in the starlight.Finnick cursed under his breath, strapping his gear with rough, practiced speed. Kye kept glancing over the edge of the watchtower, listening for more sounds. The chanting was steady and louder now. Rhythmic in a way that made my bones ache.It wasn’t human or maybe it was once, before something older taught them how to shape sound into keys.I touched the mark at my collarbone. It pulsed under my fingers, echoing the rhythm.“They’re using my frequency,” I said.“Can you stop them?” Finnick asked.“Not from here.”Velza stopped suddenly. “Wait.”She knelt and pressed her palm flat against the stone floor of the tower. Her eyes flickered shut. “There’s a gate being drawn,” she whispered. “Improperly. Too fast. Too thin. It’ll tear.”“Tear what?” Kye asked, voice low.Velza opened her eyes. “The vei
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