Page 15 of Touch of Oblivion (Woven in Time #1)

Wren

I rise before I can make sense of why I’m even moving.

My hands shake at my sides, but I make no move to hide it. Let them see. Let them feel the pressure they’ve built in my lungs, the way every breath now feels forced as I exhale.

The earth pulses beneath me, spreading through the soles of my boots and up my calves.

Deep and low, like a hum in response to what I’m feeling.

Their voices blur around me, a symphony of too many tones layered too closely together.

My skin crawls with the overload.

The heat of Torryn’s words as he mutters something to Sylvin through clenched teeth.

Sylvin’s fake, curved smile in response.

Riven watching me in that quiet, reverent way he does when he thinks I won’t notice. But I do. I feel it. That thread of need he won’t name.

All of it presses in and tightens around my ribs until the weight of their attention threatens to bury me alive.

I’ve had enough.

My voice cuts through the building. “I’m not yours.”

Every head turns as the fire in me builds. I feed it air. I feed it kindling. I let it rise until it licks beneath my skin and scorches my lungs.

“I’m not your territory to guard, or your prize to win, or your secret to keep.”

The words spill from me faster now and with more strength as I glance between them all.

Finally, they’re still and quiet.

“You speak of me like I’m a choice you get to make. Like I’m something to divide. As if I haven’t heard every unspoken threat between your teeth. As if I owe any of you more than what I’ve already given just by being here .”

None of them interrupt.

None of them dare.

“I woke in your world without memory, without a name, and still I stood before you. I stayed. I listened. I didn’t run when I should have. ”

My fists clench, nails biting into the skin of my palms.

“And you think that means I’m yours to claim?” I seethe between clenched teeth.

The humans left me to die.

These proclaimed kings act like I’m a possession to claim.

Maybe I wasn’t supposed to stay with them. Maybe I’m just as disposable here as I was to the humans that left me behind.

Is there anywhere in this world in which I can simply exist without conflict?

Is that all this world has to offer me?

The wind suddenly blows through the entryway, filling the small room.

Torryn has the decency to drop his gaze as his shoulders slump ever so slightly, as if remorse is suddenly an emotion he understands. He may posture like I’m a feeble woman who needs protecting, but he’s been the least overwhelming of them.

My gaze lands on Riven. “I don’t care what lavish luxuries you offer me.”

Then Sylvin. His smirk vanishes as I say, “I don’t care what power thrums beneath your skin, or what armies bow when you speak.”

Finally, I look at Azyric. His scowl deepens before I even open my mouth. “You don’t own me. You don’t get to smother me with shadows, snarls, and pretty lies.”

I take one step back from them, the earth beneath me vibrating in recognition.

“I may not know what I am. I may not know why I’m here, but I know this.” My breath trembles, but my voice does not. “I. Am. Not. Yours.”

The last word leaves my lips like a spark and the world answers.

Not the quiet tremble only I can feel, but a reaction.

The stone beneath us shudders once, deep and low, like a growl torn from the bones of the world.

It’s enough to still the air, to snap every gaze back to the ground in time to see the vines quiver.

The carved floor fractures in a clean, jagged line through the center and ending just in front of my feet.

Vines stretch taut before splitting. The stone seems to groan as the entryway arch splits down the center, chunks of it falling in an uneven cascade.

The men all move at once, calling my name, as if preparing to pull me away from what they fear.

Yet I don’t move as the entire building splits down the center, cleaving it with careful, destructive symmetry.

The kings move to shield me, but in their effort, Azyric and Riven slam into each other from opposite directions. Sylvin’s foot catches in the broken ground, causing him to fall onto his hands and knees. Frost pools beneath him, as if he can freeze the earth itself to obey him.

A snarl sounds from the massive wolf I know is Torryn as everything crumbles into the jaws of the earth as it opens around me. His body is bunched up like he wants to leap across the wide crevice to the small part of untouched stone beneath me.

I lift a hand, subtly telling him not to. A low whine comes from him as the trembling subsides.

When the dust settles, I still stand.

Unshaken.

Untouched.

A jagged seam runs through the middle of the broken structure, a gash of raw stone and tangled roots.

The four kings stand at varying distances, caught between awe and alarm in their parted lips and wide eyes.

I close my eyes for a moment, just long enough to feel the pulse of the earth settle beneath my feet.

The hum softens and the tension in me eases.

It wasn’t punishing me for my thoughts…it was answering me.

I open my eyes to find them all staring at me with dust hanging suspended in the air.

Sylvin’s frost melts beneath his palms as he straightens himself, dusting off his loose shirt in the process. He mutters, “So much for a grand gesture in the shape of a building.”

Azyric’s shadows lash around him, seemingly unsure of what to protect as he glares at the vampire standing near him.

Riven’s chest rises and falls like he’s fighting his urge to jump across the broken earth and sweep me into his arms.

Torryn’s golden gaze is still locked on me as he sits back on his haunches, letting the chasm between us provide the distance I sought.

I glance down at where I stand, still centered in the one untouched circle of floor. The earth split around me. Chose to break for me, or maybe because of me.

“I didn’t need any of you to save me.”

The words feel strange on my tongue, too calm for how fast my pulse beats, but they ring loudly through the quiet aftermath.

A gust of wind clears some of the dust and dirt from us, carrying it back into the field around the ruined building.

“I’m not yours to rescue.” I pause, letting the silence and my thoughts settle before continuing. “You’ve all offered me help and I won’t forget that.”

My gaze brushes over each of them in turn. “But you look at me like I’m breakable. Like I need to be kept and protected from everything in this world. ”

My fingers curl slightly at my sides as I take a breath.

“I’m not blind to the kindness you’ve offered, but I need you to see me now. Really see me.” I gesture gently to the ruin around me, the split stone, the broken vines, the silence in the earth. “This came from me and I’m still standing.”

I draw in a slow breath.

“I can save myself.”

I don’t wait for them to speak and see what apologies or excuses they’ll offer now.

Instead, I step lightly to the edge of my stone circle, where the broken edges drop in a wide crack.

Then I bend my knees and leap. It’s not graceful or powerful like any of the guys would be, but it’s mine.

My boots land solidly on the far edge of the crumbled floor, scattering grit as I straighten and brush a lock of hair from my cheek.

I turn just enough to glance at them as I approach the field, finding four kings still frozen by the fault lines I left behind.

“You should get back to your meeting,” I say, voice low but steady. “Figure out your war, your alliances…whatever it is you need from each other.”

I let the quiet settle a breath before adding, “I’ll be outside. Figuring out my own path forward.”

And with that, I walk forward. The field stretches ahead, dew-drenched and gold-touched, rising in soft tufts that brush my calves as I cross into it.

A breeze rolls through the grass, and with it, relief. Open air. No walls to close in. No voices pressing too closely.

Behind me, silence reigns for just a moment too long until Sylvin’s familiar cadence breaks it with an audible, exaggerated sigh.

I tell myself not to turn and watch, but I can’t help my curiosity of how they’ll respond to my departure.

Will they honor my words?

“Well, if the earth-shattering has concluded,” he drawls, dusting off the remaining debris from his sleeves like he’s offended by the dirt, “shall we continue this meeting of uncooperative monarchs?”

Riven makes a low sound that could be amusement, murder, or anything in between. It’s hard to tell with him.

Azyric says nothing, but his shadows slither up one of the broken columns, like it’s trying to keep an eye on me.

“Ilyria risked herself to deliver that proposal to the fae,” Torryn says from behind a broken wall, having shifted back to his human form. “If you care about the fragile peace we keep saying we want, Sylvin, you’ll sign the damned thing.”

“And you need to stop ignoring the skirmishes near your borders, Riven. If your coven keeps attacking my scouts, we’re going to have a bigger problem to worry about. We cannot be divided amongst ourselves and united against our foe.”

A semblance of peace descends in my mind, hearing them focusing on matters that don’t involve me.

Their voices fade as I settle into the tall grass at the edge of the field.

The sunlight slips through the thinning canopy above, warming my skin as the wind carries the scent of crushed flowers and rain-damp earth.

I reach for a small cluster of wildflowers–white, soft, barely clinging to their stems. I twist the stems between my fingers.

The image from the evening before, of the golden threads and the scenes they held, come rushing back.

Azyric and Sylvin, at each other’s throats over that proposal, exactly the way it occurred just moments ago.

I glance down at my hands, dusted with dirt and seeped with a power I don’t understand. The earth answered me, but why?

My thoughts roam without direction and no answers as the sun travels a path high into the sky above me.

I don’t know how much time has passed before a soft rustle sounds at my side, jostling me.

I look up just in time to see a massive wolf slip through the tall grass with quiet purpose. Torryn. His fur is a deep, earthy brown, dappled with lighter markings that catch the light. His golden eyes meet mine as he pauses, as if asking if he can approach.

I nod softly and he continues forward. He doesn’t shift to try to talk. He simply circles once before settling beside me with a grunt, his flank pressing into my side and providing a steady warmth.

I wait for him to shift to give me a lecture on how I’m not safe without them. How I can’t survive this world alone. That I need to lean on them, still, with my memory loss.

But it never comes. Silence reigns and after a while, I stop expecting him to break it.

The field hums with midday heat, the only sounds are the rustle of the grass in the wind and the soft creak of stems as I add another wildflower to the growing bundle in my lap.

Eventually, curiosity pricks at me. I glance over my shoulder and see that the three other kings haven’t left.

Sylvin is perched lazily on a broken arch, elbow propped on one knee. Riven stands with his arms crossed, watching the horizon like it’s done him a personal offense. And Azyric…he stands at the edge of the ruin, his silver eyes fixed on me, unreadable.

None of them are bickering. None of them are shouting.

Just still and waiting .

I lean into the warmth of Torryn’s side and rest my cheek lightly against his fur before catching myself. I blink, realizing how strange the gesture must seem.

“This is weird, right? No one bickering,” I murmur under my breath, hoping only he can hear me. “Why does it feel like peace makes less sense than all the chaos did?”

Torryn huffs quietly in response, a low chuff of agreement vibrating through his chest.

His breath comes out soft and even, like he’s falling asleep for a nap in the sun. It allows me to relax further against him and my fingers trail softly through his fur.

For just a moment, I allow the silence to feel like safety.

It settles around me like something earned, and I wonder if maybe this is the start of becoming someone I choose to be.