Page 21 of Touch of Oblivion (Woven in Time #1)

Wren

T he fire has burned low, a lazy golden flicker that throws soft shadows across all of us. Plates rest empty on the stone tables between the seats, besides Riven’s, which remains untouched.

He lounges, forearms braced on his knees, crimson gaze trained on me like he’s been feeding off the way my attention keeps sliding toward him.

“You didn’t eat,” I say softly, more accusation than question.

His lips quirk as his eyes drop to the untouched food, then lift again, slow and deliberate. “I don’t eat real food.”

I try not to squirm under the weight of his stare. “Then why did you sit through the entire meal?”

He leans forward slightly, enough to make my breath falter. “Because I’ve been busy looking at the meal I want to eat.”

The heat in my cheeks scorches its way down my throat. It should scare me–the thought of him drinking my blood–but all it does is cause flutters to erupt in my core.

I’m not sure what that says about me, or my survival instincts in this world.

Torryn is on his feet before I can speak and levels a glare across the fire. “Be respectful to her.”

Riven’s eyes slide toward him without losing their amusement. “I meant the pie that’s next to her.”

“You didn’t even glance at the pie.” Torryn crosses his arms, making his biceps and chest muscles flex beneath his tight shirt. “You were too busy eyeing her like the only course you’d want.”

Sylvin sighs dramatically from his seat, dabbing at his mouth with a cloth. “Must we always spiral into threats with you two? I’d like to digest this meal in peace. Arguments are bad for my tummy.”

“Then stay out of it,” Torryn growls.

“I tried,” Sylvin says with a shrug, “but my stomach is already twinging with pains.”

The tension sharpens until I lift my hand, palm up between them. “Enough, everyone. Please.”

I keep my voice soft, but the command lingers, curling into the quiet like smoke.

Torryn’s jaw ticks as he sits again. Riven leans back, unbothered and still slightly amused with a smirk that refuses to fade. Sylvin, to his credit, simply raises his brows and keeps his mouth closed.

There are still too many things I don’t understand. Too many pieces I need to gather before any of this makes sense.

“I’ve been thinking,” I say, fingers idly brushing the worn fabric of my pants, “that I need to travel. To see more of the other territories.”

Three pairs of eyes find me, fully focused.

“I’m grateful for everything here,” I add quickly, turning to Torryn. “You’ve made me feel…safe. The shifters’ reverence for nature, the way they live in harmony with the land–it’s beautiful. It feels right.”

The crinkle around his eyes that seems to remain present whenever the other kings are around, earning constant glares, fades.

“But I need to understand the rest of the world too,” I continue.

“You gave me a rundown of the other factions while I was trying to piece things together these past days–the vampire hierarchy, fae courts, the way wraiths harness shadows, but I can’t just learn from stories.

I have to see it. I need to meet the people and walk their lands.

Feel what pulls me there, if anything does. ”

The moment the words leave my lips, the ground beneath me shifts. Just a subtle tremble, but I feel it. A hum of agreement .

None of the others seem to notice.

Torryn offers a nod of understanding, but I see the wistful glint that enters his eyes with the deep breath that raises his chest.

A part of me wishes I could stay here too. The same way part of me knew I could forge a life with the wraiths.

I push the ache from Azyric’s absence deeper into my chest and drag my focus back to the present.

Sylvin is the first to break the silence, lacing his fingers together as he leans forward. “If you’re seeking answers with your tie to the earth, I can assure you there’s no place more potent than my court. We are tied to the elements.”

Riven exhales slowly, the sound sharp enough to cut. “Of course the fae thinks he’s the answer.”

“I don’t think it,” Sylvin corrects, expression bright and sharp behind his smile. “I know it. We all saw the ground crack open around her. That’s not a vampire thing, my dear bloodsucker–it’s a fae thing.”

“I didn’t realize your ego had grown this big,” Riven mutters, crossing one boot over the other. “Maybe you’re hoping it’ll have its own gravitational pull with the size of it, to drag her to you.”

Sylvin’s eyes glitter. “Deflection for the inferiority you feel right now. It’s to be expected.”

“Stop arguing,” Torryn growls. “I thought it hurt your tummy, Sylvin. ”

His last words are mocking and I barely hold back a smirk, not wanting to encourage this further.

I cut in before they can unravel into another verbal brawl. “There’s logic in what Sylvin is saying,” I admit, my voice quieter than before. “If there’s any place left where I might feel a tie to the earth, it could be there.”

Riven’s gaze snaps to me, sharp and unyielding. “So you’re going with the fae.”

I meet his eyes, forcing my voice to stay steady.

“I’m not choosing him over you, Riven. I said I wanted to visit all the factions.

I will come to your lands and spend time there.

I just…” I glance toward the fire, letting the truth gather inside me.

“I think I need to go to the fae next. Just for now.”

He doesn’t look away, not even for a second, but his mouth presses into a thin line.

Torryn, surprisingly, nods. “It makes sense.”

Riven turns to him sharply. “Of course the shifter agrees with the fae. Wouldn’t want her spending too much time with the one of us who actually has a spark with her.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Torryn says, voice low but firm. “And you aren’t the only one.”

Riven’s eyes are trained on me, wounded pride barely masked beneath that perfect stillness of his body. I hate that I’ve hurt him again, even if it’s only temporary.

Before the heaviness can settle too deep, Sylvin claps once and hops up onto his stone chair with a flourish. “Then it’s settled! She will be coming with me, and that means my little echo deserves to hear the poem I wrote for her, after all.”

A groan echoes from both Torryn and Riven at the same time.

“I knew this was coming,” Torryn mutters under his breath.

“I’d rather be staked,” Riven sighs, rubbing at his temple.

But I smile at Sylvin’s theatrics and I don’t even try to hide it. For a moment, it softens the ache still nestled beneath my ribs where Azyric’s absence lingers. It doesn’t erase the disappointment, or the rising pressure I can’t name, but it makes it bearable.

Sylvin clears his throat with theatrical grandeur.

“To the girl born in silence,”

“Oh no,” Riven murmurs, “he’s actually doing it.”

“Whose eyes stir the shadows, and bring the night to its knees,”

“Make it stop,” Torryn groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sylvin ignores them both, flourishing the parchment with a graceful flick.

“Whose footsteps leave the flowers drunk,

and make the birds forget to sing.”

I’m already giggling, hand clapped over my mouth.

“The wind redirects itself to trail in her wake ,

while the mountains simply break.”

“Oh my,” I whisper, breathless.

“So here’s to you, my little echo,

my mystery, my muse.

If I must fall for anyone,

I’d prefer it not to bruise.

So be careful with my heart,

Or else my soul may depart.”

He bows low with a smug smile as he rolls the parchment with a snap. “And that , my dear, is called taste.”

I’m laughing now, a soft, helpless sound that spills from my heart as I clap for him.

Yet beneath the laughter, something else stirs. I didn’t expect sincerity beneath the theatrics, but I heard it and felt it.

For just a heartbeat, the world feels less broken and I feel…valued.

Torryn leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “We need to talk about the offensive.”

The moment breaks, like a stone dropped into still water.

Riven straightens, the shift in him is immediate. Gone is the teasing spark and velvet tone. His expression hardens, mouth flattening as I watch his jaw tick.

“Six days,” he says, voice low. “And we bring the reckoning they earned.”

Sylvin doesn’t argue and Torryn doesn’t scoff .

It’s rare–the three of them agreeing on anything–but right now, there’s unity in their silence.

Riven’s fingers twitch once at his thigh, as if resisting the urge to unsheathe the claws I learned they have. “They struck while our people slept. Children. Elders. Dreaming in their nests one moment and burned alive the next.”

I swallow hard, the edge in his words cutting through me.

The air around him vibrates faintly, and for a breath, I see the predator I first met. The vampire who looked at me and saw prey before he ever saw the soul beneath.

But this time, the hunger isn’t for me–it’s for vengeance.

Somehow, it chills me to the bone more than before.

“We’ll all be there,” Torryn says, nodding toward the others. “On the front line with you. Unified.”

My heart stirs at the thought of these men–with their own histories and divisions–standing side by side because something matters enough to bind them.

Riven turns to me. “Where do you want to be when it happens?”

The question floors me, because he’s not telling me where I’ll be…he’s asking.

My mouth opens, but no sound comes at first.

Where do I want to be?

“I need these next few days,” I say softly. “To see if I can connect with…whatever power I have. If I’m going to be on the front lines, I want to know I can protect myself. I don’t want to be someone you’re all distracted trying to shield.”

He nods, simple and solid. “Fair.”

My explanation presses heavily against my heart, knowing I need to tell them the entire truth swirling around in my thoughts but fearing their response.

I glance toward the fire, then lift my gaze to meet theirs in turn.

“There’s something else,” I say, the tremor in my voice small, but unmissable. “Even if I do go to the front lines, I can’t promise it will be to kill humans.”

All three go still.

“I need to observe them,” I continue. “To see them with my own eyes the same way I want to see all the magical factions. To learn if everything I’ve heard is true. If they’re all monsters, or if some are worth mercy.”

Riven’s jaw clenches.

Torryn’s gaze narrows.

Sylvin just watches me with unreadable calm.

I rush on, voice gaining strength now that I’ve begun. “I’ve only heard one side. I know what’s been done, what’s been lost. I don’t excuse it, but I also don’t know if brutal retaliation is the answer. ”

The fire cracks once, scattering embers. I wait for their rejection, for their fury, or for their backs to turn.

The earth hums beneath me again, giving me strength to stand firm in my thoughts. Even if it means I’ll carry on alone.

Sylvin rises slowly. “Well,” he says, lifting his chin with a grin, “there’s no time like the present to head to my lands, little echo.”

Just like that, he accepts my words.

He lifts his hand, fingers splayed, and the air around us turns biting and cold. Mist gathers near his fingertips, trailing in delicate swirls as he steps a few paces back to empty ground. The temperature drops, dew glistening on blades of grass, and then a ring of frost blooms out from his boots.

The ground beneath him glitters like glass as something begins to take shape, spiraling upward in a perfect circle. Ice crusts over the arch in crystalline veins, each line delicate and impossibly intricate. The center of this new display of power is filled with shifting pale light.

I shiver against the cold flowing from it and feel a memory stir.

Azyric’s voice rings clear in my mind: “The fae have portals. Use one. Don’t pretend you’re walking anywhere, just to gain her sympathy.”

My chest tightens as the reminder of him pierces through the warmth I’d just begun to gather .

Sylvin doesn’t speak at first, but when I glance his way, he’s watching me intently. The usual sparkle in his expression has dimmed.

His voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard it when he speaks to me. “Shadows are a difficult thing to hold onto,” he says, eyes searching mine as I try to decipher his riddle. “They slip away just when you think you’ve caught them.”

I swallow hard.

“But,” he adds, tipping his head slightly, “they’re always there.”

He shifts his gaze toward the treeline and my head snaps toward it.

A flicker between the trees. A shadow that doesn’t belong to any branch or animal.

My breath catches and relief soothes the sting I’d felt at his absence.

The way he’d looked when I chose to go with Torryn flashes into my mind. That barely masked pain. The way he disappeared without another word.

Before I can spiral too deep into the memory of it, warmth gathers around me and lifts me off the ground with surprising ease.

Torryn .

He sweeps me into a crushing hug, burying his face into my shoulder as he holds me tightly, his body solid and grounding.

“You’re brave, Wren,” he murmurs against my neck. “Not just for walking into new lands, but for being honest even when you know it might not be what we want to hear. Stay true to yourself.”

My throat catches at how much his words mean to me. I hold onto him just a second longer than I should, clutching the back of his shirt, inhaling the sun and cedar, the safety that clings to his skin.

When I pull back, his golden eyes are soft, almost shining. He presses a kiss to my forehead before letting me slowly slip to the ground.

Once my feet are back on the ground, I turn to Riven, who’s already standing.

He doesn’t reach for me, but when I step forward and wrap my arms around him, his arms wrap around me tighter than before. His lips lower to the top of my head, resting there for a breath before moving.

“You’re truly saving the best for last,” he whispers, voice like embers and honey. “Be careful, darling…Once you’re in my lands, you might never want to leave.”

The words curl down my spine, gripping me. I step back slowly, heart thudding as he lifts my hand to press a kiss there.

“Alright,” Sylvin drawls from beside the glowing portal, drawing my attention to his half-extended arms,“this is bordering on cruelty now.”

I turn toward him fully as he raises a single brow, the corners of his mouth tilting up with lazy amusement. “ I’m standing here offering warmth, charm, and a portal made of hand-spun winter magic, and yet I’m the only one still without a hug.”

Riven scoffs.

Sylvin’s gaze flicks to Riven, then Torryn, then back to me, eyes glinting not with amusement like normal–but with desire. “I do hope you’re not forgetting that I am also very much so interested in being wanted by you, despite my theatrics.”

My breath catches at the weight behind the words, heavier than his usual games.

The poem, the quiet truth in his eyes, the way he pointed out the shadows when no one else did…it all tugs at my heart.

Suddenly, I want to know more than just the Sylvin who smiles for show. I want to know the one he seems hesitant to let me see.