Page 4 of The Witch’s Fate (The Lunaterra Chronicles #13)

The pang I feel has nothing to do with a sense of failure.

It is more a sense of…curiosity. A longing I’ve not hoped for or even acknowledged in so long. The quiet thoughts of my mind are my enemy.

Again, I think back to the witch of Athica, wondering where she resides, as I’ve searched this land thoroughly.

Dropping the bag to the ground and ready to form the portal, I find myself wishing I had more time. The irony and hypocrisy, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts and yet not wanting to return, is not lost on me. It is a torture of my own doing.

I would have liked to see the witch’s home. I would have liked to see the witch herself. Some rumors say she lives in a cottage. Others say she lives in a fortress underground. Still others say her house is invisible, and the sight of it can kill a man.

There is a curiosity that tugs me to her. It’s unsettling.

The sun peeks through the tree trunks, gracing my arm with the first rays of dawn. The tiny cuts have all gone. I think sarcastically, alas I can tell the prince I was not harmed in the errand. A huff of a laugh bristles up my chest and a smirk tilts my lips up.

A breeze gusts through my hair, and—I smell something on it.

My body stills and a seriousness takes over.

The scent is sweet and has the tone of magic to it, but not any magic I have confronted before.

It is heady and enticing, like it is calling me to hunt.

To find it. To give in to my own curiosity and forget the florals.

To find whoever it is that causes such a scent to be in the world and press my nose closer to know her better.

Her? What thoughts plague me?

I shake my head, turning my face away from the breeze.

I do not often have flights of fancy like that.

It is not the kind of thing for a seasoned soldier to get the better of him.

I will not let it get the better of me. The light grows and I stay focused on my task, although the scent is like nothing I’ve felt before and yet it is so familiar.

The portal , I command myself. At least to send the flowers through.

Birds fly out of the trees by my side, their calls echoing across the fields. I step down into the dip in the land, readjust my pack, and set about opening the portal.

The first step is to place the stone anchor on the ground.

The anchor itself is not very large so that it can be carried long distances if necessary.

I place a charged crystal into the space carved for it in the anchor.

Energy hums all around me. I speak the words in a low voice, “Now you open, now I enter,” and the portal opens.

It is small, perhaps the size of a mirror, to start with, but that is large enough for my purposes. I have gathered the florals and put them into bundles that can be rolled up and tied off. With a length of rope, I secure them together and find that they will not fit.

The magic gets louder as I press the portal farther open. It should not take much. An inch or two. I slot the bundle into the portal, lean my entire weight against it, and push.

With a final heave, the florals pop into the portal and disappear, the surface shimmering like water on the surface of a pond. My shoulder hits the rippling barrier, and I pull back.

I won’t fit through the portal as small as it is, but sending the florals was more difficult than I anticipated. Something feels off and a nervousness I don’t appreciate comes over me.

Taking a few steps back from the portal I rest one of my feet on the low rise surrounding the small valley.

The field around me is even brighter now.

The sunrise is making the colors vivid, and I feel that pang again.

That longing to spend more time roaming these fields without the weight of the florals on my back.

To seek out something no one else has ever found so that I can see it with my own eyes.

The witch. Even my wolf stirs at the thought.

On my next breath, the scent returns. As if I’ve summoned it with thoughts of her.

It’s faint, like it is coming from far off or does not want to be found, and yet it is so distinct from the grasses and flowers and trees that I cannot help but notice it.

I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Even in this moment I know that.

I take another deep breath in spite of myself, holding it in and closing my eyes, trying to know more about it, but it is only a scent on the wind.

It fades in a matter of moments, or I become used to it. My wolf whines.

Everything in my body tells me to seek out more of that scent.

My knuckles turn white as I clench my fists at my sides, warring with myself.

There is no reason other than my own desire to seek out the witch.

Something tells me it would not be difficult to find the source.

I’m strong enough and fast enough to do it.

After so many days picking my way through the forests and fields, I crave a run and a hunt.

I need to feel my heart pumping from a real challenge.

But there will be no such thing to find. I already know that.

What this scent promises—a match —is not something I will ever have. The scent does not belong to a wolf, and even if it did, I will never be mated to one. And yet these feelings stir, unwelcome but so dominant.

I move toward the portal without realizing that the pang in my chest has become something more than curiosity.

It is disappointment. The mission has gone well.

I’ve done what I came here to do. And though I may never see this land again, it will make no difference to the rest of my life.

I’m as cursed as I was before I came, and as cursed as I will remain after I leave.

This is not the time to let a wild urge overwhelm me.

I take one last look at the land that spreads out around me, remembering my duty and the only purpose I have to live.

Maybe, in another life, I would have broken free of my responsibilities and gone in search of the witch.

Maybe I would have found her. Maybe we would have spoken, and she—who chooses to live alone amid all this beauty—would have understood what I have never been able to explain to other soldiers or wolf shifters.

I wish all of that, and the land, a silent farewell. It has been generous to me these past days, and I won’t forget it.

Then I close my eyes, shutting all of it out, and prepare myself for my departure. Only to find that the portal refuses to open.