Page 34

CALLUM

C ora lay motionless on the moss, skin pale against the scarlet glow that bled from the altar.

Her head lolled to one side and a ribbon of blood traced the line of her throat where Elric’s knife had lingered.

She looked heartbreakingly still, like a painting of a woman who had never learned to breathe.

Callum’s soul cracked.

His lion roared inside, furious and terrified, but rage would not break chains carved into spirit.

He shifted back to human form, knees striking damp earth beside the flickering half-wall of red light.

His palms pressed the barrier. Static bit the flesh, burn marks opening fresh, yet he barely felt pain.

“Cora, listen to me,” he said, voice raw. “I need you to hear my words. Hear me.”

The altar pulsed. Elric stood just beyond, cloak flared like bruised wings, watching with dark fascination. The warlock said nothing, as if curious which would crumble first, spell or heart.

Callum shut his eyes a moment, drew a breath thick with blood and pine. If magic fed on intent, he would feed Cora everything he had left.

He opened his mouth and recited the first poem he ever risked writing after Tessa’s death, the one he had never shown a soul.

I keep watch through storms

though beasts may prowl my dreams

yet dawn is worth the wounds

if it finds me still standing

to see her lift her face to light

Just one more time.

His voice shook like a sapling in wind, but he did not stop.

“Cora Thorne, you are that dawn. You are every sunrise this forest forgot it could hold.”

The cuff fragments at her wrists shimmered, thin gold flickers sparking along the broken edges.

He pressed on, words tumbling faster, desperate.

“You are the way Moonmirror breathes when the sun sets. You are the laugh that turns Twyla’s tea sweet before sugar hits the cup. You are stubborn hope when the Veil frays at the seams, and kindness when my own skin feels too tight.”

The barrier flickered. A whine threaded its hum. Elric’s brow creased.

“This is not fate talking,” Callum said, louder now. “I’ve ignored my lion and telling you things that I thought could hurt us, but really, it makes us stronger. Cora, my lion sees you. I see you. As my fated mate.”

More gold began to flicker.

“This is not fate talking though,” Callum said, louder now.

“My lion might call you mate, but I choose you. Choice is stronger than prophecy. I choose you because you name each herb like a secret. Because you apologize to broom bristles you enchant too lively. Because you walked into my woods with nothing but courage and a suitcase full of broken pieces and still offered to mend my heart.”

The barrier flashed, then dimmed, as if the altar itself hesitated.

Callum’s hand slid to the soil beneath the barrier. He dug his fingers into the moss, grounding his next words.

“I love you, Cora. I love you for the way you lean into joy even when fear nips your heels. For the songs you hum out of tune. For the quiet forgiveness in your eyes each time I push you away and you choose to step closer instead.”

A tremor rippled across the glade. The white trees rustled though no wind stirred. Gold sparks flared brighter along Cora’s wrists, climbing the length of her arms like sunrise up the sky.

Elric’s voice slithered between them. “She cannot hear you, beast. Blood claims drown out love songs.”

Callum ignored him.

He touched the barrier with his burning palm and reached deeper inside himself, into a place he had sealed off since the night Tessa fell. He found the shard of grief there, still sharp, still ready to cut. He lifted it, not to bleed, but to show.

“I loved someone once and lost her.” His voice cracked on the confession. “I let that loss build a wall, but you, Cora, you walk through walls like they are curtains. You show me every ache can bloom into new life.”

Gold light burst from her chest in answer. The red chain Elric claimed to own wavered, humming disharmony. Cora’s fingers twitched.

Callum’s pulse throbbed with hope. He pressed on.

“If you choose to open your eyes, I promise I will not look away from whatever shadows follow. I will stand beside you in every circle old magic draws, and I will never let silence eat us alive again.”

For a tense second nothing else moved. Callum’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. Then Cora’s lips parted, a trembling breath pulling in. Her eyelids fluttered once, twice, lifting to reveal green irises awash in molten gold.

She focused on him, confused at first, then clear, as a slow recognition dawned. The gold light around her surged, forcing the barrier to retreat a foot, then another. The warlock staggered, eyes widening.

“No…” Elric whispered, panic fracturing the smooth veneer. He lifted his hands to weave fresh sigils, but red runes sputtered like wet tinder in a gale of sunrise.

Cora pushed unsteadily to her feet, glow spilling from her palms and dancing across her skin like living dawn. The wound at her throat closed in a shimmer of light, leaving only a pale scar. She looked down at her hands, wonder and fierce resolve blazing together.

Callum’s heart nearly burst. Relief drowned every shard of fear, but the fight was not over. He braced to step forward, ready to meet whatever came.

Across from him, Elric’s face twisted as the red runes flickered dead. He took one backward step, eyes darting toward the dark wood.

“No…” he repeated, voice cracking, the single word an omen of a desperate move yet unseen.

The glade held its breath.