Page 18 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)
The pain of the separation had become unbearable.
It wasn’t just a dull ache anymore, it was fire beneath her skin, crawling up her spine and into her head.
During brief snatches of sleep, Maeve would wake choking on grief she couldn’t name, her body thrashing before she could stop herself.
It had gotten worse, the sky above was black with no stars.
Just the muffled weight of mist pressing into the earth.
Maeve curled into herself, trying to ride it out, but the pressure in her chest grew until she thought she might shatter.
Aeilanna was there almost instantly. She knelt beside her, pressing cool hands to Maeve’s face, murmuring words in a language Maeve didn’t know, but knew it was not for the body, but for the soul.
“You are safe,” she whispered, again and again. “You are not alone.”
It helped, not instantly, not completely, but enough. Enough to stop Maeve from splintering apart and they sat there for a long time, Maeve breathing raggedly, her head resting against Aeilanna’s shoulder. Finally, hoarse, she rasped, “You and Nolenne...?”
Aeilanna gave a slow, sad kind of smile as she pulled her cloak tighter around them both. “I was alone in that cell for many years,” she said. “They pulled me out every few days, sometimes every few hours. For punishment, for torture, for magic extraction.”
Maeve’s gut twisted.
“They tried to rip the magic out of me. Piece by piece. I thought I would die that way, grasping to it. I thought I would die forgotten.” Her breathe shuddered. “Then they assigned Nolenne to my cell.”
Maeve blinked. “Assigned?”
Aeilanna gave a quiet, almost soundless laugh. “I suspect they thought a woman would make me weaker, easier to break through a false sense of sisterhood. Someone who might betray me if I tried to resist.”
“But she didn’t?” Maeve asked.
“No,” Aeilanna said quietly. “At first, we barely spoke. But I noticed the changes before the words came, the beatings almost totally stopped. The guards pulled me out less and I started getting food that wasn’t entirely spoiled and water that didn’t taste of rust. ”
Her hand drifted through Maeve’s hair, so gentle it almost hurt. “One evening, after she brought the bread and turned to leave, I stopped her and thanked her.”
“And that was it?” Maeve asked.
“No, it took months. Small things, a few whispered words in the dark. Mostly warnings, shared memories, regrets and lots of dreams.” Her smile returned, far away now. “We became each other’s lifeline.”
Maeve swallowed hard. “And then?”
Aeilanna’s eyes softened further. “One day, after more than a hundred years, she asked me to become her bound.”
Maeve stiffened slightly. “A mate bond?”
Aeilanna shook her head. “No, not like the bond you carry. Mate bonds are rare. Blessed by gods and rooted in soul, magic and blood. A bound relationship is more like what your people call a marriage.”
Maeve nodded slowly.
“We didn’t need ceremony, didn’t need witnesses. We already knew that she was mine and I was hers. Not because of the prison, not because we had no other choice, but because, even if we had been free, if the whole world had lain open before us… we would still have chosen each other.”
Maeve blinked hard, trying to hide the sting in her eyes.
“She saved me,” Aeilanna said, voice thick. “In every way a person can be saved.”
Footsteps crunched quietly behind them. Maeve looked up to see Nolenne returning from the trees, four full canteens swinging at her side.
She paused when she saw them, Maeve resting against Aeilanna’s shoulder, the quiet warmth in Aeilanna’s smile and Nolenne crouched beside them, one strong hand settling lightly on Aeilanna’s knee.
“She saved me too.” Nolenne said, voice rough.
The three of them stayed like that for a while. Huddled against the cold, the forest breathing slow and steady around them. They were a unit and not long after, that fragile unity would be tested.
?????
They moved again, only stopping for stolen hours.
The forest changed, trees thinning, mist thickening, ground turning to sucking mire.
That was when the wolves came. Long, skeletal things with ash-grey hides stretched too tightly over twisted frames, joints bent wrong and rib bones jutted through torn fur.
Their eyes glowed a sickly violet, lighting the mist as they stalked forwards on silent paws.
Their snarls were wrong, not animal, not natural, it was the sound of something trying to remember hunger, trying to remember how not to kill.
Maeve barely had time to draw breath before the first lunged for Aeilanna’s throat.
Nolenne was faster, she threw herself between them, twin blades flashing silver and black as they carved through the creature’s side.
It shrieked, an awful, broken sound, and crumpled.
Another wolf crashed into Maeve, jaws clamping around her forearm.
She screamed hoarsely, stabbing again and again until the creature spasmed and fell.
“NO MAGIC!” Nolenne shouted, slicing into a second. “AEILANNA, NO MAGIC!”
Maeve saw it, Aeilanna’s hands sparking on instinct, old training rising, but she clenched her jaw, forced it back down.
Fought with spear and elbow. Maeve ducked claws, rammed her shoulder into a wolf’s ribs, slashed wildly.
The blade caught on slick bone, ripped free with a wet snap.
Claws raked her shoulder, causing searing pain and blood poured freely.
She stumbled, nearly dropped her dagger, but Nolenne was there, leaving a clean stroke across the beast’s spine.
But the wolves kept coming. It was brutal, fast and clumsy, the three females fought like trapped animals, fuelled by terror and the sheer refusal to die.
When the last wolf fell, its body collapsing into black mist and shattered bone, they stood in the wreckage.
Chests heaving, blood-slick and trembling.
They didn’t speak, they just breathed, ragged and uneven breathes.
Maeve sagged against a tree, her forearm dripping blood, dagger still clenched in her locked hand.
Aeilanna coughed, a hand to her ribs while Nolenne crouched to wipe her blades on one of the corpses, face a forbidding sight.
Then Aeilanna laughed, shaky and half-wild. “We’re still alive.”
Maeve slid down the tree and collapsed into the grass, gasping. “Is it always like this?” she rasped.
Nolenne straightened, sheathing her blades. “It can always get worse,” she muttered.
But there was a glimmer of pride in her voice, and when Maeve looked up, Nolenne’s eyes, though bloodied and bruised, were burning bright.
They didn’t waste time. They stripped their bloodied clothes, cleaned wounds with icy stream water, bandaged with scraps of cloth.
No words, only the rough, efficient rituals of survival.
Then the trio were moving again by moonlight, limping and aching.
???? ?
The third night fell heavy. The terrain shifted again, less wild, but somehow more wrong. Trees twisted into spiralling shapes, their trunks split open like old scars. The ground felt brittle, as if it might shatter under their boots and the air carried a unnatural hum.
“Border’s near. Shit, we’re so close,” Nolenne muttered. “Only a few more hours.”
Aeilanna sagged against a fallen trunk, her face soft with the first real hope Maeve had seen. “Let’s rest, beloved,” she whispered. “Just a moment.”
They dropped their packs and Maeve sank down onto the brittle grass, every muscle shaking.
For the first time, she dared to believe they might make it, but then the air shifted, almost souring.
The smell of decay, enveloped them and something that sounded wet moved through the high bushes.
Nolenne’s voice cracked the night like a whip. “Fuck.”
Maeve scrambled upright, heart slamming against her ribs. “What is it?”
Nolenne already had her blades drawn, scanning the trees with wild, desperate eyes. “Glade Stalker,” she hissed, voice a rasp of pure terror. “MOVE.”
Then came the sound.
Click.
Click-click.
Click.
Slow and deliberate. Like claws drumming bone, by something that enjoyed waiting. They didn’t run, Nolenne explained that running would make it chase faster. They moved crouched and fast, weaving through roots and rock, hearts pounding in their throats.
“What the fuck is a Glade Stalker?” Maeve gasped, ducking under a fallen branch.
“A predator,” Aeilanna panted. “It hunts fear. It… plays.”
Click-click.
Click.
Click .
Closer now and Maeve felt as if it were herding them, like it was trying to corner them in some dense pocket of the wood. She clenched her dagger tighter. “Perfect. Another bastard trying to kill me.”
Nolenne’s head whipped around. “High ground. Now!”
They ran then, scrambling up a large gnarled tree, lungs burning, cuts blooming across their palms and knees and the world held its breath.
Click.
Click.
Click-click.
It stepped into the clearing and Maeve felt the air rip from her lungs.
Her soul recoiled, it was worse than a nightmare, it was wrong, so very wrong.
The Glade Stalker was huge, easily the size of a horse but distorted, almost mutated.
Its skin was dark green and black, slick with wet, pustulant patches that oozed foul fluid.
Its limbs were too long, jointed wrong, ending in clawed digits that twitched constantly.
Its face, elongated, lipless, with crooked rows of jutting teeth, dripped with saliva in long gleaming ropes.
Its milky eyes were lidless and appeared as empty pits of hunger and hate.
When it moved, its segmented tail slammed the ground hard enough to shake the earth.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Maeve realised it wasn’t searching, it was waiting. Savouring the scent of horror in the air. She froze, every instinct in her screamed for her to run, hide or vanish.
She met their eyes and Nolenne gave the ambush signal, just as she had shown her the day of their escape. There would be no mercy, there could be no show of fear or hesitation, only the cold mechanics of killing.
Nolenne moved first, launching herself from the tree with a hoarse battle cry, blades flashing as she slammed down onto the beast’s back, driving both weapons deep.
The Glade Stalker shrieked, a bone-rattling blend of hissing, clicking, and unearthly noise that felt like it would make Maeve’s ears bleed.
It reared violently and launched Nolenne into the air with terrifying force.
She hit the ground with a sickening crack, shoulder, then skull and she rolled once before slamming against a tree.
It turned on her instantly then, claws raked the ground and its jaws snapped, tearing up grass and soil, outraged at the assault .
“RUN!” Nolenne tried to scream, coughing blood.
Maeve didn’t run, neither did Aeilanna, they jumped in tandem.
Aeilanna struck first, jamming her broken spear into one of the creature’s eyes.
It howl now piercing and inhuman, staggering back, ichor gushing from its ruined face.
Maeve landed awkwardly but shoved herself upright, powered solely on adrenaline.
She ducked under its tail, beneath its jaws, and drove her dagger up and into its throat.
Once, twice, a third time. Burying it to the hilt as the beast convulsed violently.
Its death throes tore up the ground, tail lashing trees and ripping branches.
Maeve flew backwards, hit the earth hard and her vision went white.
When the roaring stopped, and the world stopped shaking, she finally opened her eyes.
The Glade Stalker lay in a twisted heap, black blood steaming and bubbling like acid. Maeve tried to rise from the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Aeilanna staggered towards Nolenne, bloodied but laughter cracking through her raw throat. “That… that’s one for the gods-damned family annals.”
Nolenne groaned from the edge of the clearing, raising a broken hand. “Remind me…to never…fucking jump…on one of those…again.”
?????
After a few hours the terrain softened, much short grass underfoot and strange flowers glowing faintly unfurling as they passed, petals curling open like tiny offerings.
It felt similar to stepping into a dream as the trees parted and a secluded lagoon was cradled in a polished orange stone basin.
A slender waterfall poured from the ridge above into water so impossibly blue it shimmered even beneath the dawn light.
Maeve stopped dead, breath caught in her throat, half afraid it might vanish if she looked away too long.
It was so peaceful, an oasis in the filth and desperation she had experienced in the last few weeks. “Oh, fuck yes,” she whispered.
Aeilanna appeared beside her, a wry, exhausted smirk ghosting her face. “I’m sure it will be warm,” she said softly. “Let’s get all this shit off us before we choke on the stench.”
They smelled like death and fire, and the gore had dried in their hair, crusted their skin and stiffened their clothes. Maeve let out a strangled laugh. “You had me at ‘it’ll be warm’.”
Nolenne and Aeilanna walked across the clearing, laying gear on a collection of stacked rocks and began to peel off ruined layers.
Maeve reached into her pocket, her fingers brushed a familiar shape, the small velvet pouch.
Slowly, she unfastened it, hands trembling, the Chain inside shifted with a soft metallic clink, settling heavy in her palm.
Gold twisted like vines, dark stones pulsed faintly and coloured glass caught the dim light and sparked.
Her breath hitched as she brushed her fingertips across the metal, before placing it back carefully.
The sound of footsteps filled the clearing.
Maeve spun, the pouch clutched to her chest. The air split in front of her, jagged light tearing through the clearing.
They appeared like a wall of brawn between her and Aeilanna and Nolenne.
Five men, armed, cloaked and panting from the strain of travel.
Power rolling off them in waves so thick, it was suffocating.
At their centre stood Eiran, he was so tall and wild with tension, dirt streaked his clothes and his hair was wind-tossed.
His presence hit her like a deluge of emotion, his eyes, fuck, those eyes, locked onto her like she was the only thing that mattered.
Maeve couldn’t move, her knees gave out, dropping her to the ground. It wasn’t fear or shock, it was just, him. Everything else fell away, the pain, the anxiety and the fight. She had chosen him long before she understood what it meant.
Eiran stepped forwards slow and deliberate, something raw broke in his gaze, Maeve still clutching the pouch to her chest and tears blurred her vision. Voice trembling, she said, “you’re real, you found me.”