Page 29

DELILAH

M orning found them tangled in moss and moon-drenched warmth.

The world had changed overnight—not in any sweeping, grand way, but in the hush of the trees and the rhythm of breath beside her. Delilah blinked against the rising sun as it broke through the pine boughs, gold spilling over Rollo’s bare shoulder and illuminating the curve of his jaw.

He looked peaceful, for once. Still.

Her fingers traced the line of his collarbone, slow and careful, skimming over the edges of old scars and new bruises. The bandages she’d wrapped held firm, but she could feel the heat still radiating from where Garrick’s poison had rooted deep.

The forest had been quiet all night.

But as the light deepened and dew slicked the air, the hush took on another tone. Like breath held too long.

She closed her eyes and leaned closer to Rollo, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

He stirred with a groggy rumble, one hand lifting to rest gently on the curve of her back.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” she whispered, smiling softly.

He kissed her hair and pulled her closer, his touch protective even in half-consciousness.

They didn’t say anything more for a long while. The birds began their morning chorus above, and the scent of crushed wild thyme clung to her skin. Everything should’ve felt safe.

But Delilah’s magic stirred uneasily.

She sat up slowly, brushing moss from her shoulder. The warmth of Rollo’s body slipped away as she rose, and he made a sleepy sound of protest.

“Just stretching,” she said quietly.

She stepped away, wrapping herself in his flannel and staring into the trees.

That’s when she heard it.

Not words, not exactly—but something deeper. Older. Woven into the rustle of the branches and the groan of ancient roots beneath her feet.

It’s almost time.

Her breath caught. She turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning the treeline.

“Who’s there?” she whispered.

The wind didn’t answer—but the leaves shivered all at once, as if touched by something more than breeze.

The warning was clear. The magic she’d used to save Rollo hadn’t just been a gift. It had been a bargain. And the forest—alive, aware—was beginning to collect.

She knelt, placing her hand on the moss. The earth thrummed, faintly echoing the magic now twined between their souls.

“I understand,” she murmured. “I’m listening.”

The forest rustled again. And then silence.

She didn’t realize Rollo had come up behind her until his hands gently slid around her waist.

“You felt it too, huh?” Rollo’s voice came low, a rough scrape of concern and wonder beneath his breath.

Delilah didn’t answer right away. She leaned into him, grounding herself in the solid warmth of his chest, the familiar scent of pine and soil. Her heart was still rattling from what the forest had whispered—but she nodded.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “It’s getting louder. More urgent.”

Rollo’s arms tightened around her waist, protective even in the softness of the moment. “It felt like something shifted... inside me. Not just the pain. Deeper.”

She turned slowly, meeting his eyes, and saw the flicker of worry there. Not fear—he’d always met fear head-on. But something close. Something vulnerable.

“You think it means what I think it means?” he asked.

She exhaled. “Something’s coming. Something big. And I think…” She hesitated, eyes flicking to the canopy. “I think the forest is calling in what’s owed.”

His brow furrowed. “Owed?”

Delilah nodded. “When I found you, you were barely breathing. Your body wasn’t responding—not even to healing spells. I panicked. I didn’t have enough magic to purge the poison. Not on my own.”

He stilled.

“I didn’t pull from herbs or charms,” she continued. “I called the land. The forest. Whatever ancient spirit still listens beneath these trees.”

He stared at her, silent.

“I gave it something,” she said softly. “Something I couldn’t name. I just... poured myself into you. And the forest let me.”

“You channeled through the earth,” he whispered. “Through you. ”

“It’s old magic,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “Not just healing. It binds. Tethers. And now we’re tied in a way that... I don’t fully understand.”

Rollo looked down at his hands, then at hers.

“That’s what I’ve been feeling,” he murmured. “Like I’m not just breathing my breath anymore. Like you’re in my blood.”

She smiled faintly. “I am.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then said, “Do you regret it?”

Delilah turned in his arms fully, lifting her gaze to his. “Not a chance.”

Relief passed across his features like dawn breaking open a storm. His mouth curved into a slow, crooked smile, one that settled deep in her ribs.

“Good,” he said.

She reached up and touched his cheek, brushing her thumb along his jaw. “But we need to be ready. That bond? That power? It’s not just between us. It’s part of whatever’s waking up.”

His eyes darkened with understanding, his hand curling around her waist. “Then we don’t face it alone.”

“We can’t afford to.”

“We won’t.”

They dressed in silence, folding the night away like a sacred thing.

By the time they stepped back onto the trail toward the sanctuary, the sun was rising bold and bright above the mountain ridge. The town was still, but the air felt... charged. Like magic had stretched its arms and yawned.

As they walked, Delilah reached for Rollo’s hand. He took it without hesitation.

No hiding. No fear.

Just them.