Page 12

Chapter Twelve

N iall jolted awake, heart pounding, disoriented for a moment before the weight of reality settled over him. He’d meant to stay vigilant, to fight the ever-encroaching pull of sleep, but his exhaustion had won. Yet, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn’t regret it. His body felt lighter, rested in a way he hadn’t been in months. The soft warmth beside him stirred something deep within, a fleeting sense of peace.

He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, the scent of her hair lingering in the air. Tamara.

His gaze drifted down to her face, serene in sleep, golden strands of hair framing her delicate features. Her lashes fanned against her skin, and her lips, slightly parted, tempted him anew. She was more than beautiful; she was life, fire, passion. Memories of their night together flickered through his mind, and heat stirred in his veins, as vivid as the sunlight filtering in through the window.

But the light brought more than warmth—it brought reality. The morning rays scattered across the chamber, bright and unyielding, as if mocking the fragile reprieve of the night before. Niall sat up sharply, a sudden awareness creeping over him. He had lingered in this realm longer than ever before. The pull that should have dragged him back to the other world was conspicuously absent. Strange. He flexed his fingers, testing for any sign of the enchantment tightening its grip on him. Nothing. Was it possible? Could he truly have found a place where Devina’s reach didn’t extend?

Still, he could not ignore the warning prickle sliding down his spine. Something was off. He scanned the room, his senses on high alert, but nothing seemed out of place. Only the soft rustle of Tamara shifting in her sleep broke the silence. Even in this quiet moment, she sought him unconsciously, curling into the space he had left behind, a faint smile curving her lips.

He moved with deliberate care, sliding from the bed so as not to wake her. His eyes lingered on her sleeping form, committing every detail to memory—her golden hair tangled across the pillow, the peaceful expression that softened her features. How had she slipped past his defenses so completely? He shouldn’t have let her in. He couldn’t afford to.

There was still too much to do, and he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of hope. Last night, he had been close to surrendering to that daring temptation—hope. With Tamara in his arms, the possibility of freedom had felt almost tangible, as though her touch could dissolve the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. But he knew better. He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk her .

A sudden tug, sharp and relentless, pulled at his very being. Time was up. He had to go. Quickly, he dressed, sliding on jeans, shirt, sock and shoes. Next, he fastened the belts of daggers across his body with practiced efficiency. Lastly he grabbed the thick cloak that had been strewn across a chair. The fur felt heavy in his hand as he hesitated by the bed. This had to be the last time. For her sake. Returning would only give her false hope. He would never father another child, not after failing the ones with his first wife.

Besides, he would not— could not —ever risk bringing a child into this cursed life.

Tamara let out a soft murmur, shifting slightly, her hair gleaming like spun gold in the morning light. His heart twisted painfully. How was it that she had come to mean so much in so little time? He’d cared deeply for his late wife, but never before had he felt so linked to someone’s very existence. Tamara had found her way into his heart, an anchor he hadn’t realized he needed until it was too late.

He reached out, fingers hovering inches from her cheek, craving one final touch, one final memory to hold. But he stopped himself. If he touched her now, he wouldn’t be able to leave.

He shouldn’t have allowed things to go this far. Shouldn’t have let her break through the walls he had carefully built around himself. She would hurt when he didn’t return, and he hated himself for it. Yet what choice did he have? The curse was his burden alone to bear and dragging her into his torment would be the cruelest betrayal of all.

Steeling himself, he stepped back, eyes never leaving her face. He would carry this moment with him, relive the memories of her touch, her smile, her laughter, until his final breath. It was all he could allow himself. A life of darkness awaited him, but for these few fleeting hours, he had known light. And it was enough to carry him through what lay ahead.

Without another glance, he turned toward the door, the ache in his chest a heavy reminder of what he could never truly have.

The pull to return to the other realm gripped Niall with increasing urgency. He paused, centering himself, unsure exactly where he was being drawn. He prayed silently that upon his return, all would be well—that Padraig and Liam were unharmed. Bracing himself, he gave in to the relentless tug, and in an instant, Tamara’s bedchamber dissolved around him.

He reappeared in the familiar camp near Middlesex, the cold air biting at his skin. The scent of damp earth and burning wood filled his lungs, a stark contrast to the warmth he had just left behind. The village lay in uneasy quiet, shadows stretching long under the pale morning light. They had been fighting Meliot’s forces for days, and the tension in the air felt as thick as the frost coating the ground.

Niall pulled his cloak tighter around him, shielding himself from the bitter chill as he made his way toward the promise of warmth inside a makeshift tent. The heavy fabric rustled behind him as he entered, and he was immediately greeted by Padraig’s grim expression.

“You were gone a long time,” Padraig said, his voice edged with both relief and frustration. “I was worried.”

Niall met his friend’s gaze, guilt flickering briefly in his eyes. “I fell asleep. I don’t know how I managed to stay there for so long without being pulled back. I’m sorry for causing you concern.”

Padraig studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. “You look rested. That’s good.” Without further comment, he led Niall toward a round metal furnace in the center of the tent where a fire blazed, casting flickering shadows and radiating much-needed heat.

Something about Padraig seemed off, a tension in his posture, a heaviness in his tone. Niall waited until they were far enough from prying ears before speaking. “What’s wrong? You’re holding something back.” He glanced around the dim interior. “Where’s Liam?”

Padraig’s jaw tightened before he answered, his voice flat. “He went to see John. Said he’d return soon.”

Crossing the tent, Padraig sank heavily onto his bed, his shoulders slumped in a way that made Niall uneasy. “I have no enchantress,” he muttered, his voice laced with quiet despair. “Soon, the three moons will be at their highest.”

Over the years, Niall had seen Padraig endure moments of frustration and discouragement, but this was different. The despondency in his friend was palpable, weighing down the air between them.

“There’s still time,” Niall said gently, though he felt the weight of his own doubts pressing against his chest. “The moons won’t be at their peak for another sennight. Don’t give up yet.”

Padraig’s gaze met his, and the raw desperation there made Niall’s breath hitch. “I’m tired, Niall. I understand now—why you stopped hoping, why you don’t try to break free anymore. Maybe ... maybe it’s not meant to be. For either of us.” His voice dropped lower, trembling with exhaustion. “Lately, all I want to do is lie down and sleep for days. To stop fighting, stop trying ... just stop.”

Hearing Padraig voice what had long haunted his own thoughts unsettled Niall more than he cared to admit. For years, he had carried the weight of his hopelessness in silence. Now, hearing it reflected in his friend’s words felt like staring into a mirror he wished to shatter.

Padraig leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. “Maybe we should leave. Go back to the keep. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m so damn tired.”

Niall’s instinct was to reassure him, to insist that hope still existed, but no words came. What could he say? Too much needed to happen—each step an impossible challenge. Both their fates hinged on a chain of events so unlikely it was a cruel joke. He couldn’t deny it. Padraig wasn’t wrong.

With a heavy sigh, Niall rubbed a hand over his face, the faint scent of Tamara’s skin still lingering on his fingers. How foolish he had been, allowing himself a taste of hope the night before. A fool’s luxury. Now, faced with Padraig’s despair, hope felt even further out of reach.

He turned to his friend who sat unmoving, staring at the ground as though searching for answers in the dirt beneath his boots. “Let’s wait for Liam,” Niall said quietly. “We’ll hear what he has to say. If, by morning, you still want to return to the keep ... I’ll go with you.”

Padraig didn’t respond, but the slump of his shoulders deepened, as though the weight of the world had pressed harder against him. Niall could offer no promises, no grand speeches of hope. All he could do was stand by his friend and face whatever came next—together.

It was late in the evening when Liam arrived, just as Niall and Padriag prepared for bed. The Englishman walked toward them, elegant, even covered in thick furs. He went to his cot and removed the cloak, hanging it carefully on a rope they’d strung from one corner to the other in order to hang wet clothes and allow the garments to dry.

Liam’s icy blue gaze went from Niall to Padriag. “The answer is no. Whatever you two miserable idiots are planning, it will not come to pass.”

With a huff, Padriag shook his head. “Niall and I have discussed it. Breaking our curses is an impossibility we must all accept.”

Raking a hand down his face, Liam blew out a frustrated breath. “If that were true, would I keep returning here?” He held up a hand. “Do not answer that. Because we all know the answer. “I would not. I have seen it, not the how, but the result of all of this,” he motioned around the enclosure. “In the end all will be well.”

“There are many ways things could be well,” Padriag replied. “Do you see either of us over there? In the other realm?”

Liam’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. This was all the fuel Padriag needed. “You don’t. I, too, sense that the final chapter of this story is coming to an end. Even if not a happy ending, it will be an ending. A satisfactory one.”

Before she opened her eyes, Tammie was sharply aware of two unsettling truths—Niall was gone, and something was wrong. Deeply wrong. The room wavered, a peculiar, disorienting motion that jolted her fully awake. Her heart pounded as she sat up, scanning the empty room, though the silence carried an eerie weight, as if something unseen lingered in the shadows.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the entire room tilted abruptly to one side, and she barely stifled a scream, gripping the cold iron bars of the headboard with trembling hands. A dream. It had to be a dream. Somehow, she needed to wake up.

The room swayed again, more violently this time, and her stomach rebelled, nausea rising fast. Desperate for the solid comfort of the floor beneath her feet, Tammie slid off the bed but immediately collapsed as the shifting ground threw her off balance.

“Help!” she screamed, her voice echoing strangely. “Someone help me!” The walls didn’t just reflect her cry—they seemed to absorb it, muffling the sound.

The biting wind that rushed through the suddenly open window made her gasp, whipping the thin curtains sideways in a chaotic dance. Struggling to her feet, she tried to keep her balance, only to fall again onto all fours.

Then, a figure loomed in the window—a man, tall and draped in heavy furs like those Niall had worn the previous night. His broad shoulders filled the narrow frame, and his dark eyes, nearly black, glinted beneath the edge of a fur-lined hood. His face remained partially obscured, save for those piercing eyes, the darkest Tammie had ever seen.

“I’ve come for you on behalf of Meliot.” The man’s deep voice was accented and harsh, perhaps German, though she couldn’t be sure.

He stepped fully into the room, pulling back his hood to reveal a ruggedly handsome face marred by deep claw marks that scored one cheek. His gaze swept over her with unnerving intensity. Instinctively, Tammie grabbed a blanket from the bed and clutched it to her chest, shielding her bare skin. “Get out of my room!” she demanded, her voice trembling between fear and fury.

“You must dress,” he said, his tone steady, unyielding.

Tammie let out a frustrated scream, her fury only growing when no one responded. “I would if you’d stop making the room move! I’m going to be sick!” she snapped, glaring up at him. “Who are you?”

For a moment, he stilled, as if her defiance caught him off guard. “Who I am does not matter,” he finally replied.

The swaying ceased, as suddenly as it had started. Grateful for the reprieve, Tammie took several deep breaths, willing her roiling stomach to settle. Without taking her eyes off the stranger, she snatched up her jeans and a T-shirt, pulling them on with quick, jerky movements. As she reached for her socks and shoes, she glanced toward the door, weighing her chances of escape.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, forcing defiance into her voice as she slipped on her shoes and grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair. She hoped he couldn’t hear the rapid pounding of her heart. “Where are you taking me?”

He said nothing, watching her with quiet intensity as she dressed. His gaze never wavered, following her every movement like a hawk tracking prey.

Thinking fast, Tammie decided on a distraction. Hands on her hips, she fixed him with what she hoped was a skeptical glare. “I bet you’re not from this world.”

“We must go,” he repeated, his tone colder now.

“I don’t think so,” she said, lifting her chin. “I have to relieve myself.”

The man blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”

“I have to use the bathroom,” Tammie said, pointing toward the small door. “Unless you want me to pee everywhere while you’re kidnapping me.”

He hesitated, then moved to the bathroom door, peering inside as though expecting an ambush.

The perfect opening. Tammie bolted for the main door, fingers brushing the doorknob before a powerful arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her against him. She kicked and thrashed, but his grip didn’t loosen. “Let go of me!” she yelled, twisting and turning, but he held her easily, his strength far beyond anything she could match.

“If you must relieve yourself, do so now,” he said, his voice edged with reluctant patience.

He released her, and Tammie stumbled toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the lock. After using the toilet, she splashed cold water on her face, forcing herself to think. Whoever he was, wherever he planned to take her, it couldn’t be anywhere good.

An idea struck her. Grabbing the toothpaste, she quickly squeezed out a message on the mirror with her finger. Help. Taken to other realm. Meliot.

Just as she finished, the door opened.

Tammie stepped out of the bathroom, careful to keep her expression neutral. She prayed the stranger wouldn’t notice the hastily written message on the mirror behind her. He stood waiting, his dark eyes locked on her, unblinking.

“We must leave,” he said again, his tone firmer this time.

Tammie took a deliberate step back, feigning reluctance. “At least tell me who you are,” she said, hoping to stall further. “If you expect me to go with you, I deserve to know that much.”

“I am called Gunther,” he replied with a slight incline of his head. His voice, deep and gravelly, carried an air of authority. “That is all you need to know for now.”

Gunther. Definitely German, she thought, filing the information away. Though it gave her no clearer picture of what she was dealing with, at least it was something.

“Where you’re taking me?” Tammie asked again, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “And why?”

Gunther didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the window. Tammie struggled, but his grip was unbreakable.

“Wait! Wait!” she cried, panic flaring. “We can’t go out the window! We are on the second floor.”

Gunther didn’t seem to hear her. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around her and before she could scream, he stepped onto the window ledge and leaped into a swirly void.

The wind roared around them as they fell, the world a blur of dark sky and streaking light. Tammie clung to Gunther, her heart hammering wildly, her already weak stomach threatening. She squeezed her eyes shut taking shallow breaths, praying not to get sick.

They landed hard on a blanket of snow, Gunther absorbing the brunt of the impact as they tumbled across the frozen ground. The surroundings were barren, ice- and snow-covered landscape as far as she could see. It was like what she imagined the Arctic was like.

Gunther rose smoothly, as if the fall had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. He scanned their surroundings, sword in hand. Tammie followed his gaze, shivering violently.

She scrambled away from him and began to throw up. Just when she thought it stopped, her stomach would lurch again. Blindly, she stumbled to what looked to be a frozen tree and leaned on it, willing her stomach to still.

The cold was unlike anything she had ever felt, sharp and biting, sinking into her bones as if her clothing was inconsequential. Shivering so hard, her teeth chattering, it was astounding her they didn’t shatter into pieces.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Gunther didn’t answer. He motioned her closer. “We must share the cloak to avert the cold.”

Tammie backed away from him. “Stay away from me. I would rather freeze then get close to you.”

“You will freeze without this,” He told her, his eyes flat. Removing the cloak from around his shoulders, he tossed it at her. “Put it on and follow me. We have to go.” He turned and walked away.

The relief from the cold was immediate. The warmth of the fur and his body seeped into her. Tammie held the cloak tight, picking it up from the ground so she could walk and not trip. She considered going in the opposite direction, but besides the fact that he’d probably catch her, she didn’t want to die of exposure.

No other practical choice, she followed after him.

They trudged through the snow in silence, the only sounds their labored breathing and the crunch of ice beneath their boots. The wind howled around them, carrying with it strange, haunting echoes that set Tammie’s nerves on edge.

A sudden growl broke the silence.

Tammie whirled around, heart in her throat. Four massive wolves, their fur a mix of gray and white, stood at the edge of a nearby ridge. Their eyes glowed an unnatural yellow, and their fangs gleamed in the dim light.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “This cannot be happening.”

Gunther didn’t hesitate. He drew his sword with a swift, practiced motion and stepped in front of her. “Stay close,” he ordered. “If they attack, we will run.”

Easier said than done, Tammie thought, but she nodded, too terrified to argue.

The wolves advanced slowly, their movements predatory and precise. Gunther tightened his grip on his sword, readying himself for a fight. The inevitable happened and Tammie tripped on the cloak falling hard onto the frozen ground.

In the next moment, Gunther picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and took off at a hard run. The wolves gave chase, their huge fangs exposed, growls seeming to bounce off the trees. She’d never seen wolves in real life, but even to her untrained eye, she knew these massive animals were not normal.

Upon reaching the edge of the woods, the wolves stopped and let out long howls. Gunther put her down, his chest heaving from the exertion of the run, but still he pulled her forward, trekking at a quick pace.

They reached a gloomy castle with turrets that jutted into the foggy dark purple skies. This was definitely not a fairytale structure, more something from nightmares.

Tammie’s legs were trembling so badly she could barely stand. Enormous iron gates loomed before them, flanked by black wolves almost as large as the ones that had chased them. Unlike the others, these wolves didn’t move. They stood perfectly still, like statues, their glowing eyes fixed on her.

Gunther pushed open the gates, the heavy iron creaking loudly in the stillness. They entered a courtyard shrouded in mist, the ground beneath their feet slick with ice. Tammie hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to turn back, to run. She peered over her shoulder at the expanse of ice-covered land and forest. A forest where huge wolves who could eat her alive would undoubtedly find her. There was nowhere to go.

She quickened her steps until walking next to Gunther. The cloak over her shoulders seemed to grow heavier as they approached the main doors of the castle.

Two hulking figures emerged from the shadows. They were larger than any man she had ever seen, their faces scarred, twisted, and beast-like, their eyes as black as the void.

“We’ll take her,” one of them growled, stepping forward.

Tammie couldn’t breathe. Terror seized her. What was happening? This was definitely more than she’d ever expected in her quest to rescue Niall.

When the beastlike beings moved forward, Gunther pushed Tammie behind him, blocking their path. “I was instructed to deliver her personally.” His tone was laced with warning.

“Your duty was to bring her here, nothing else,” one of them replied. “Move aside.”

Without waiting for Gunther to move, one of them seized Tammie by the arm, his grip like iron. Tammie didn’t try to fight them knowing it would be useless. Any feeble attempts to get away from them could result in them killing her on the spot.

When she looked back, Gunther’s gaze met hers briefly, and for a moment, she thought she saw regret in his eyes.

Tammie’s heart pounded in her chest as the beastly guards dragged her down a dim corridor lined with stone walls, torches flickering weakly in iron sconces. The air was damp and cold, carrying the faint scent of mildew. Every instinct told her to fight. A sizzle bubbled under her skin.

What it was that coursed through her, she had no idea, but whatever it was, it couldn’t help her. These creatures were far stronger than she was, and the odds weren’t in her favor.

They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands. One of the beasts pulled a large key from his belt, inserting it into the lock with a loud clank . The door groaned as it swung open, revealing a dimly lit room beyond. Without ceremony, they shoved her inside and slammed the door shut behind her.

The finality of the lock turning sent a chill down her spine.

Never in her life had she been more terrified. This was the thing of nightmares, something that should never truly exist.

Still shivering from the cold and fear, Tammie took a moment to assess her surroundings. The room was large but sparsely furnished. A massive four-poster bed draped in dark velvet dominated the space, its canopy draping down to the floor. A simple wooden washstand stood against one wall, holding a ceramic pitcher and basin. To the side, a narrow doorway led to what appeared to be a rudimentary toilet.

Despite the castle’s ominous exterior, the room itself was oddly elegant, as though it had once belonged to someone of importance. Although the thick iron-reinforced door reminded her that it was still a prison.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Tammie crossed the room to the narrow window. Peering through it, she saw that this side of the castle was perched on the edge of a steep cliff. Beyond the jagged rocks below lay an endless expanse of white, the icy landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. Escape from this height was impossible.

She turned away from the window, biting her lip as she tried to think. Think, Tammie. There’s got to be a way out of this.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint tapping sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tammie frowned, listening intently. The sound came again, steady and deliberate. She moved toward the wall, pressing her ear against the cold stone.

“Can you hear me?” a muffled female voice called out.

“Yes!” Tammie answered, relief flooding through her. “Who are you? Can you help me get out of here?”

“I’m Erin. Erin McGuire,” the voice replied. “I can’t help you. I’m locked in too.”

“How long have you been here?” Tammie asked, her voice lowering to a whisper, though she wasn’t sure why.

“This is my second day. They haven’t hurt me,” Erin replied. “Someone brought me food once, but that’s it. I have no idea why I’m here.”

Tammie leaned closer to the wall, feeling a little comforted by the presence of another person, even if she couldn’t see her. “I’m Tammie Lockhart. Do you know anything about what’s going on? Who’s behind this?”

“No,” Erin replied, her voice tinged with fear. “But I heard the guards talking about someone named Meliot. Does that mean anything to you?”

Tammie’s blood ran cold. Despite her suspicions that the evil, powerful wizard was involved, hearing it made her stomach sink with dread.

Before she could say more, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway outside her door. Tammie backed away from the wall, heart racing.

“They’re coming,” she whispered. “Stay quiet.”

“Tap twice if you’re okay,” Erin said quickly.

Tammie tapped twice on the wall, and Erin responded in kind. Just as she moved away, the door creaked open, and a hulking figure stepped into the room. It wasn’t Gunther this time, but another guard, his face half-hidden beneath a hood. He carried a tray of food, which he set down on a small table near the bed without a word.

As the guard turned to leave, Tammie mustered her courage. “Wait!” she called out.

The guard paused but didn’t turn around.

“Why am I here? What does Meliot want with me?”

The guard said nothing. He stepped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The lock clicked into place, leaving Tammie alone once more.

Frustration bubbled up inside her. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but she knew it would be useless. Whoever these people were, they weren’t about to explain themselves to her.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the tray. There was bread, a bowl of stew, and a small jug of water. Her stomach growled at the delicious smell of the stew, but she ignored it. She didn’t trust the food.

She went back to the wall and tapped twice. Erin responded immediately.

“Still here,” Tammie said quietly. “We need to figure out a way to escape.”

“It seems impossible,” Erin replied. “There’s a window in my room, but the castle is too high on the cliff. We could easily plunge to our death. And the door is solid and reinforced with iron bars.”

“Same here,” Tammie muttered, glancing at her own window. “But if we’re in adjoining rooms, maybe there’s a way to break through the wall.”

The idea sounded crazy, but it was the only thing she could come up with. If they could create a gap big enough to crawl through, they might have a chance of overpowering a guard or sneaking out.

“I don’t know,” Erin said doubtfully. “These walls are thick. It would take forever.”

“Do you have anything heavy in your room?” Tammie asked, glancing around hers for anything she could use. “Like a chair or something?”

“Just the bed,” Erin said. “It’s made of wood, but it’s too big to move.”

Tammie sighed, frustration gnawing at her. Her only hope was that Niall, and the others would come to rescue them.