Page 16 of Touch of Oblivion (Woven in Time #1)

Wren

T he sun begins to sink further away from me, beginning its descent back toward the trees. I watch the colors shift as my stomach grumbles. Gold streaks fade into violet and blue, pulling long shadows across the field where I sit still, surrounded by wildflowers, a wolf, and silence.

Torryn hasn’t moved from my side except to stretch occasionally. He lies still, his head resting on his paws, tail twitching in time with the wind. His breathing is slow, steady, and unrushed.

It’s strange, the comfort I find in his presence. He hasn't said a word–not that he can in this form–but maybe that’s what I needed. No questions, no apologies…just quiet loyalty.

I glance back toward the broken stone building, the ruined skeleton of Sylvin’s grand gesture.

Three figures still linger, caught in the last light.

Azyric at the edge of the ruin, unmoving.

Riven leaning against a cracked pillar.

Sylvin sprawled out, lounging on top of a crumbled wall, humming something soft beneath his breath.

It became a test, today, without me even realizing until it was in motion.

They showed they wanted to remain, and I wanted to see who would chase me.

Who would demand answers.

Who would try to prove I belonged to them.

Yet none of them did.

I shift slightly, feeling the ache in my muscles from lounging on the ground for so long. The field sighs with me, a soft breeze stirring the petals in my lap. I glance down at the crushed bouquet I forgot I was holding. The wildflowers are bent, wilted at the edges.

I turn to the wolf still beside me. “Do they have any plans to return home tonight?” I ask, voice low, unsure if I actually expect an answer.

He huffs through his nose, then flops dramatically to his side, paws outstretched, as if to say not a chance .

I snort, the tiniest smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Warmth fills me, not in rage, but in quiet recognition.

They’re giving me space…but they haven’t left me behind like the humans did. They’re simply waiting for me to make my decision on how I want to move forward.

While appreciation blossoms in me for this shift in quiet support, I still feel too raw emotionally to be in the home of the three that wait in the distance.

I could traverse this world alone, but I’d rather learn alongside others, while retaining my autonomy. The companionship I felt in Torryn’s quiet presence gives me hope that I can find that with the shifters. Ever since the kings stumbled upon me, he’s been the most gentle and sincere.

There’s never a mask or wall in place. He seems to wear his emotions on display for all to see, be it good or bad.

I reach down, brushing my fingertips against the fur along Torryn’s shoulder.

“I want to stay with the shifters.”

His ears twitch before his head lifts.

“I need to learn about this world and I think…” I pause, breathing through the tangle in my throat. “I think your people might let me do that without making me feel like I have to become someone else first.”

Torryn jolts upright, tail swishing behind him as he lets out a soft huff, like surprise and satisfaction wrapped into one sound .

A movement catches my eye beyond the broken building.

Azyric.

He simply disappears into his shadows like they’ve swallowed him whole, but not before I see it–the flicker of hurt in his silver eyes.

A breath catches in my throat. Apparently my voice and decision carried enough for all to hear.

I think of the castle, and for a moment, I think I’ll miss it. The warmth Ilyria provided and the mystery Azyric presented.

Despite that, it wasn’t a forthcoming place for information, and that must be my focus now.

A soft whistle cuts through the quiet.

Sylvin stands now, brushing the dust from his trousers with a theatrical sigh that seems too grand for the ruin around him, per usual.

“Well,” he drawls, arms spread wide as if presenting the shattered remains of the meeting place like a gift, “I suppose my little echo didn’t care for my architectural debut.”

I can’t help but crack a small smile. Leave it to him to soften every moment with his theatrics.

I actually think I’m beginning to enjoy it.

Sylvin’s gaze slides to mine with something warmer beneath the smirk and he nods, as if understanding my decision.

“No matter. I’ll simply have to do better next time,” he announces dramatically before jumping off the crumbled wall. “Enjoy the shifters, little echo, but don’t forget that winter finds its way to every part of the world eventually.”

Then he’s gone, vanishing into the trees and humming as his head rocks from side to side with the tune.

That leaves one.

Riven hasn’t moved. He stands where I last saw him, posture straight but tense, like every muscle is stretched too tight beneath his skin. His red eyes are fixed on me, burning in the falling dark. He simply watches me with a detached coldness like I’m already slipping through his fingers.

It makes my chest ache.

I know what he sees when he looks at me. He doesn’t see an enigma to solve anymore, or a threat to be wary of. He sees someone he could bask in.

It’s the same draw I feel for him, but that’s the problem.

“I thought…” he begins, then stops. His jaw tightens, and he swallows whatever fragile hope was about to escape.

I shift, not knowing how to ease the weight in the air between us. “That I’d choose you to travel with?”

His eyes flicker, just once, but it’s enough.

My voice catches, and I force myself to hold his gaze. “I couldn’t. Not because I don’t feel the draw, but because I do feel it. Too much. You make me want to disappear into something I don’t understand yet, and I can’t afford to do that. Not now.”

He nods, just barely before turning on his heel.

“I’m around if you need me.”

Then he’s gone, vanishing into the trees without another word.

The silence stretches around me and Torryn again, but this time, it doesn’t feel as heavy with the weight of expectations that still lingered in those men.

I take a deep breath as Torryn gives a single shake before flopping onto all fours. His large head swings to look at me before nudging me gently.

I blink. “What?”

Another nudge, but firmer this time, before whipping it back toward his shoulder.

“Oh,” I murmur. “You want me to…right. Okay. This is happening.”

I rise, brushing soil and petals from my skirt, and hesitate only a second before reaching out. His fur is coarse and warm beneath my fingers, and when I swing a leg over his back, it’s with all the grace of someone very much not trained to ride a wolf.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I shift my weight, trying not to fall off before we’ve even moved. “I don’t think I’m usually this awkward. Then again, I don’t know if I’ve ever done this before. So maybe I am.”

Torryn chuffs once as he lifts to his feet and my hands tighten in the fur on top of his neck.

He bolts forward with no warning. A startled laugh tears from my throat as my legs instinctively tighten around his body and I lean into the motion.

The world rushes past us in a blur of color and wind and sound.

Cool air sweeps across my skin, stinging my cheeks and stealing my breath.

Every muscle ripples beneath me with power, fluid and steady. His breath is even, confident, as if carrying me is as natural as wearing his own skin.

I grip a little tighter, leaning into his warmth as the hush of the night settling in cradles us.

For the first time since waking in this world, I don’t feel lost.

I just feel… in motion .

Moving forward along a path I chose.

That, more than anything else, feels like freedom.

I curl closer to his back as the wind cuts sharper, but I don’t loosen my hold. I don’t close my eyes. I want to see it all as the world opens in a way I haven’t seen before.

Trees stretch tall on either side of us, their limbs tangled, streaking the ground with the light catching their patterns. I catch glimpses of life between the trunks–deer bounding through the dark and birds chattering as they burst into the sky.

All of it settles into my mind, like I know it all intimately. Each animal name comes to me with ease–far easier than each item in the interior of the wraith’s castle did.

Torryn runs like he belongs to the land. Each stride is sure and deliberate, as if he knows each section of the forest floor intimately. He runs without hesitation and with purpose.

I can’t help but wonder what it must feel like to be so certain of your place in the world.

The air grows thinner as we climb, the scent of damp moss and mountain wildflowers being left behind. The first rays of moonlight catch on the surface of a river as we pass.

I exhale slowly. There’s no council watching. No shadows curling around my ankles possessively. No frost, or fangs, or arrogant smirks.

Just this.

The sound of running paws and wind in my ears.

The pulse of the earth below us, steady and real.

The faint ache in my hands from holding on too tightly, and the warmth of Torryn’s body beneath me.

Eventually we crest a rise and the trees part, revealing a wide clearing framed by distant peaks.

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Untouched by humans or magic.

The trees stretch wider apart as we descend into a shallow valley brushed in silver light. The rhythm of Torryn’s stride slows beneath me, changing from confident strides to padding with caution.

Torryn halts suddenly and I sit straighter on his back, sensing the shift in him before I see anything. The way his ears flick. The low sound that rumbles from his chest like a protective warning to whatever he senses.

Then I see it.

Across the glade, standing at the edge of a small slope something moves–no, glows .

The shape is massive, yet not solid. Translucent and flickering with opalescent light, as if the air itself is folding around it.

Wings flare out wide from its large body.

Horns spiral back from the top of its head.

Its eyes shine with a deep sense of understanding as my mouth parts in awe.

Torryn shifts beneath me in a single ripple of motion. One second I’m on fur and muscle, and the next I’m slipping off to the ground as he becomes a man again beside me, breathing hard.

“Stay back,” he says, his voice hoarse and low. “It’s…that’s an ancient dragon spirit.”

His body tenses like he’s preparing for a fight, but I feel no danger.

Only awe and peace.

The dragon steps forward, yet there are no footfalls that should rumble the ground due to its size. It simply glides across the grass.

Its gaze flicks to Torryn and lingers before bowing its head.

Not to me, but to him.

My breath catches as I feel the earth hum again to me, that low thrumming pulse that speaks in rhythm instead of words. This moment is a welcomed one.

Torryn exhales shakily at my side, shock in his tone. “It’s been thousands of years since anyone has seen this spirit.”

A small gasp falls from me at that. I’m witnessing history in the making, despite not remembering my own.

The dragon’s head shifts, slow and weightless, trailing ribbons of light like smoke in its wake. It turns toward me and holds still, the glow in its chest brightening. It lets out a quick, sharp breath of air before turning back toward Torryn.

He stands rooted beside me, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, as if he’s staring down a god. He doesn’t posture like a powerful king.

I feel it in him…the reverence. The weight of being seen by something greater. The tension in his spine and the way his fingers flex once at his sides, like he doesn’t know whether to kneel or stay still.

I don’t dare speak and interrupt the moment. The air feels too sacred for noise, like one wrong word might break the fragile moment.

So I just watch in appreciation of experiencing this alongside him as the spirit draws closer. Eventually, its long neck cranes down to touch its snout to Torryn’s forehead. Light pulses once, passing through Torryn, and his breath stutters.

My heart thrums in time with the pulse of its light, like some hidden part of me recognizes it.

I don’t understand what I’m seeing, but I know I’ll never forget this…the quiet awe of standing next to someone as their world changes.