Page 45 of Destined to the Lycan (The Shadow Realms #3)

Grinding my teeth through the throbbing pain in my ankles and shoulder and ignoring the taste of blood in my mouth and wheezing sound of my breathing, I hastened towards the lodge.

I didn’t need a doctor to know I had undoubtedly popped some blood vessels in my lungs, which would explain the wet sound that accompanied each breath.

As soon as I crossed the invisible wall of the protective wards surrounding the large radius around the lodge, I collapsed to the ground. Darkness immediately swallowed me.

T he sound of distant voices pulled me out of my slumber.

I felt comatose, my eyelids weighing a ton as I tried to pry them open.

Soft hands touched my injured legs and shoulder.

My instinctive fight or flight instincts died almost instantly.

Although my brain was still too foggy to put a name on the presence surrounding me, the scent was familiar…

not comforting, but safe. I vaguely recognized a shaman’s chant as the pain in my ankles steadily decreased.

“Remus, where is the woman?” an imperious voice demanded once the chanting ended. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but a whiny sound came out instead.

Only then did I realize that I was still in my wolf form.

Shifting back to my human form was normally effortless and as easy is breathing.

But this seemed to drain all the sliver of energy I had managed to regain in however much time I had been unconscious.

“Friend took Amara home,” I slurred.

“What friend?” the voice insisted.

After struggling to open my eyes, I found Rolf looming over me, a concerned look on his face.

“I must go to the Weaver,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“What? Why? What happened to you?” Rolf demanded.

“No time,” I replied, annoyed, each word demanding a monumental effort. “Beware the… witch in Haun… ted… Woods.”

“What witch? Did she do that to you?”

“Must go… to Weaver. Full moon… soon.”

“You’re in no condition to travel to the Weaver, assuming she’ll even see you,” Ulric’s voice said sternly.

My heart leapt. I couldn’t see him from the angle I was lying in. But he hadn’t directly spoken to me in years. How sad that it should happen when I was in no condition to engage with him further.

“I must…”

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I went limp.

As I hovered in a state of semi consciousness, I heard Ulric utter a string of curses.

Something was wrong with me. The lack of food and water, and my extreme exhaustion couldn’t explain my current physiological reaction.

Something was affecting me. Had the Tentrian poisoned me somehow?

The blades at the tips of its tentacles possessed a paralytic that further immobilized its prey after it severed their tendons.

But I couldn’t recall it cutting me at any point.

I bit its tentacle ‘tongue’ to set myself free.

Could that be the cause? Had I ingested part of its paralytic or some other form of toxin while injecting him with my own?

Multiple voices started arguing, my mind too far gone to make any sense of their words.

Then, two strong arms picked me up, wiping out the wandering thoughts from my confused mind.

Moments later, I felt myself getting hoisted onto a horse.

Behind me, a muscular chest pressed against my back.

A wave of emotion crashed over me at the familiar scent of Ulric.

Although he was now a full-grown adult, feeling him like this brought me back to our youth when we were inseparable. We would take turns carrying the other piggyback.

“I missed you, brother,” I slurred, then fainted.

I was in and out of consciousness, gently rocked by the movements of the horse while being held steady by Ulric.

My throat constricted when I awoke as we were crossing the bridge leading to the south shore and the main road to Willow Grove.

Before I could say a word, my childhood friend extended a thick piece of cured meat.

I quietly accepted the offering and barely chewed before swallowing, wolfing it down in only a few bites.

He then gave me a water skin which I drained in one go.

“Sorry,” I said at last. “I didn’t mean to drink it all.”

He grunted in lieu of a response. Although still feeling a little weary, the unnatural fog that had knocked me out earlier had lifted.

I no longer doubted that the Tentrian injected me with some sort of sedative.

I glanced at the sky. We’d been riding for hours as the sun was already very low on the horizon and painting the sky with fiery ribbons of blue, purple, and orange.

“Thank you,” I said at last, still facing ahead. “I can never repay you enough for this.”

“The woman believed in you,” Ulric grumbled reluctantly after a moment of silence during which I thought he wouldn’t respond. “Save her, and it will be payment enough.”

“Whatever it takes, I will,” I promised.

He remained quiet for a moment. “I know you will,” Ulric eventually said.

A thick silence settled between us as the horse pursued its journey. More than once, I opened my mouth to try and rekindle the conversation, but words failed me. Half an hour later, Ulric slowed down and eventually stopped the horse.

“This is as far as I can take you,” he said in a grumpy tone.

In the distance, I could see the gates to the Weaver’s domain. Unless you had business with her, it wasn’t a good idea to lurk too close to the entrance. The imps guarding the gates were reputed to not only be powerful, but also viciously unforgiving towards trespassers and unwanted visitors.

I turned to look at him over my shoulder. He wouldn’t make eye contact, staring at the horse’s mane instead.

“Thank you, Ric,” I said, using his old pet name. “I know you don’t believe it, but I never meant to hurt you. I loved you then, and I love you still. You were more than a friend or a cousin to me. You were my brother. In my heart, you still are and always will be.”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes glistened, and he blinked to stem the tears that undoubtedly pricked his eyes.

“I miss you. However long it takes, I will pray to get my brother back,” I said softly.

Leaning forward, I kissed his cheek. He didn’t pull away, content to remain stiff. And that in itself was a huge win. He might not be ready to acknowledge our bond, but he no longer rejected it. I hopped off the horse, a smile on my face as hope blossomed in my heart.

Tonight, I partially regained a brother. And in a few moments, I could only pray that the Weaver would give me back my mate.

I shifted back into my wolf form and glanced one last time at Ulric.

“Safe journey… Brother,” Ulric said.

A powerful howl of joy rose from my throat. He snorted, gave me a sad smile, then turned his horse around. I wanted for him to get off the horse so that we could run as brothers in our wolf form as we used to do as pups. But now wasn’t the time. Fate willing, we would do so in the near future.

As I ran towards the massive iron gates barring the entrance of the Weaver’s home, the old tension returned with a vengeance. I still ached everywhere, but fear that she would once more turn me away twisted my insides, dominating my thoughts.

If I have to climb over the damn walls, I will.

If it came to that, the guardian imps would attack. But I was past caring. Nothing and no one would keep me from facing the Weaver and getting the answers I needed. If I had to die trying, so be it.

To my shock and utter relief, the gates swung open when I was still a good hundred meters away.

I should be elated. For three decades, I dreamt of this day.

But now, only a growing panic filled my heart.

What if Lyall had been wrong in sending me here?

What if I in fact should have stayed on the plateau and continued my efforts to summon Ranael? What if…?

The sight of the humble thatched-roof house—the cliché witch hut—that appeared at the end of the path threw me for a loop.

The Weaver had to be extremely wealthy, if only thanks to the insane amounts people were willing to pay someone of her power.

But those thoughts, too, I cast aside as I shifted back into my human form to approach the door.

As I reached for the handle, the door opened on its own, startling me.

I took a couple of steps inside, transfixed by the ageless woman sitting behind a table facing the entrance.

To her right, a few meters back, sat an imposing spinning wheel.

A luminous thread, clearly imbued with great magic, hung by the spindle, waiting to be spun.

Cliona Nox was beautiful and yet terrifying. I couldn’t say what intimidated me the most between the intense gaze of her purple eyes with the narrow vertical pupils, the unreadable smile that could be interpreted as mocking or flat out threatening, or the insane power that radiated from her.

While I suspected Lyall to be a demigod, there was no question that the Weaver was a goddess.

People speculated that she might simply be one of the Ancients.

Although it could be possible, I highly doubted it.

No mortal or long-lived being could exude this much power passively.

She could probably turn me to cinders with a mere thought.

To my dismay, the Weaver raised an eyebrow the moment I walked in, and blatantly ogled me, the corner of her lips quirking with a mix of amusement and approval.

My skin instantly heated with embarrassment as I remembered that I was buck naked before her on our first meeting.

The fact that her gaze held no lust didn’t lessen my mortification.

It was like having your blunt grandmother walking in on you while you were in a compromising position.

I meant to apologize for appearing before her in this state of undress. But completely different words spilled out of my mouth.