Page 20 of Collar Me Crazy (Hollow Oak Mates #8)
RYKER
T he summons came at dawn, delivered by a sparrow shifter.
Ryker had been awake anyway, pacing his cabin while his wolf prowled restlessly beneath his skin, both of them circling the same thought: Sonya. The way she’d looked at him yesterday in the forest—like he might actually deserve happiness.
“Elder Varric requests your immediate presence in the Council Glade,” the sparrow said, her small voice carrying the weight of official business. “He says it’s time.”
Time for what, she didn’t specify, but the knot in Ryker’s stomach already knew.
When he entered the Glade, ancient stones cast long shadows and mist hung low between the trees like ghostly curtains. Varric stood at the center of the circle, his silver braids damp with condensation, his eyes heavy with decisions Ryker wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.
“You came quickly,” Varric observed.
“You said it was time. Time for what?”
“For truth. All of it, not just the pieces I thought you could handle.” Varric gestured toward one of the stone benches. “Sit, son. This conversation is long overdue.”
Ryker stayed standing, his wolf bristling. “I already know about the prophecy. Blood moon wolf, unite or destroy—you told me when I was fifteen.”
“I told you part of it. Enough to keep you cautious, but not enough to crush your spirit.” Varric’s tone was grim. “But careful isn’t going to be enough anymore.”
Ryker’s jaw clenched. “What changed?”
“The disturbances. The wards failing. The fact that you’ve finally found your mate, and the timing couldn’t be worse.” Varric pulled a leather-wrapped bundle from his coat. “The complete prophecy, Ryker. Written by the Hollow Seer herself the night before she died.”
Ryker’s breath stalled as Varric unwrapped bark parchment, the surface covered in symbols that writhed in the mist.
“Read it,” Varric said, holding it out.
“I can’t read the old script.”
“Your wolf can. Let him rise enough to translate.”
Against his better judgment, Ryker loosened his grip on control. His wolf surged closer, sharpening sight and scent until the curling marks shifted into sense. The words rose in his throat, rough and resonant, half his and half his beast’s.
“When seven hearts beat as one, and magic’s web grows strong,
the eighth shall come to seal the fate?—
for good or ill, the choice awaits.
Bind the realms in harmony’s light,
or shatter veils and bring the night.”
His hands trembled as he forced himself to keep going.
“The blood moon’s child must choose his path,
to save the world or face its wrath.
When the circle closes and love completes the ring,
the Void wakes, and chaos brings.
Only sacrifice is able to set things right?—
or darkness claims eternal night.”
The parchment lowered with shaking hands. “Sacrifice,” Ryker rasped. “You left that part out.”
“Because I prayed it would never come to pass.” Varric’s weathered face tightened.
Ryker’s voice cracked like a snarl. “So what—you let me grow up believing I could maybe outrun this, when the truth is I might have to choose between saving everyone and…” His throat closed around the words. “And having everything I’ve ever wanted?”
“Before you had to carry the full weight.” Varric’s expression flickered with something raw. “Before you had to understand the choice might not be yours alone.”
Ryker’s wolf stilled, the name already forming. “Sonya.”
“The Seer was explicit. The eighth bond must be completed willingly by both of you, with full knowledge of the consequences. And the sacrifice…” His voice dropped. “It requires both hearts to make the choice.”
Ryker’s world tilted. “So if we complete the bond, if we choose each other—one of us has to die to keep the Void from tearing through?”
“I’m saying the prophecy speaks of sacrifice, but not what kind. It could be death. It could be power. It could be the bond itself.” Varric’s hands clenched around the parchment. “I’ve studied this text for twenty years, and every path leads back here.”
Ryker’s pacing grew frantic, boots scuffing against damp stone. “Then love isn’t enough. That’s what you’re saying?”
Varric’s gaze softened with regret. “Sometimes the greatest act of love is walking away.”
“No.” The word tore out, sharp and final. Yesterday, he’d told Sonya something similar—pushed her away for her own good. But hearing it now, cast as fate, felt like a noose. “No, I won’t accept that. There has to be another way.”
“Maybe there is. Maybe binding the realms in harmony doesn’t mean destruction, but something we don’t yet see.” Varric rose, shoulders bowed beneath centuries. “But you must understand what you’re risking. Not just your life, but hers. Everyone in Hollow Oak. The fabric of reality itself.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Ryker snarled. His wolf pressed against his skin, restless with fury. “You think I haven’t been terrified of this exact thing since the moment I saw her?”
“Then why stay? Why not leave and spare us the risk?”
Ryker stopped pacing, chest heaving. “Because she won’t let me. Because every time I try to shove her away, she pushes back harder. Because she makes me believe I could be more than the monster this prophecy says I am.”
“And if she’s wrong?”
“Then we’ll find out together.” The words crystallized in him, sharp as steel. “But I’m done running. If destiny wants a fight, it’ll get one.”
Varric studied him, then sighed. “The magical disturbances are accelerating. Whatever you and Sonya decide, you must decide soon. The Void grows stronger with every ward that fails. Days—maybe a week—before the choice is ripped from you.”
Ryker’s pulse hammered. He tucked the knowledge away: the full prophecy, the sacrifice, the clock already ticking down. He couldn’t carry it alone anymore. Not this time.
Varric rested a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was rough, paternal. “I’m glad she gives you strength. I only wish the timing had been different. I truly am sorry, Ryker.”
Ryker swallowed hard, then turned toward the path out of the Glade.
“Ryker,” Varric called after him.
He paused.
“The night your pack died, when I found you—I knew this was coming. I hoped I was wrong, that the prophecy wouldn’t touch you. But I knew. And I’m sorry, son. Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”
Ryker left with his wolf howling protest at the injustice. Just when he’d begun to believe in happiness—Sonya’s stubborn faith, her refusal to let him hide—the universe had shoved the truth in his face.
But she was right about one thing: he got to choose who he became. And he’d had a taste, these past days, of life without fear. A life with acceptance. A life with her.
And he chose to fight for that.
For her.
For them.
For whatever fragile future they could steal from fate.
Even if it killed him.