Page 85 of WitchBorn

Finn crawled toward the next statue, little more than a blob of dark ooze, bleeding, covered in ice crystals and emanating physical and emotional pain. He’d already suffered a hundred lifetimes of trauma.

I love you, Finn,I thought, hoping he’d hear.I believe in you.I set free the last grip on my blood curse. All witchborn had them, even if they presented in different ways. Mine turned to a raging monster nearly as large as the forest itself, antlers dripping blood and poison, as I speared the Hunt and they dug claws and teeth into my hide, finding it tough, but not impossible to tear.

I charged the Hunt, my antlers slashing through their bodies, sending shards of ice and blood spraying. One beast would crumble and another three would take its place. How were so many of these monsters left? Hadn’t Spring taken them all? Or had the Winter witch been stealing more wolves?

The Hunt circled, unable to get past my antlers as Finn crept away. Their chilling howls vibrating through the forest, and ice slinking through the sanctuary, freezing everything it touched, solid. My hooves ached, the cold burning as it slid up my limbs. But I wouldn't stop.

Finn wasmine.

The agonizingly slow crawl towards Sebastian's statue left a trail of blood behind Finn. The ice followed, using his fading energy to break through the glowing light of Summer’s statue. The protective aura of Sebastian’s control popped, sendingmagic in a rush that threatened to flatten me to the ground, but shoved the wolves back a few feet. The Hunt rushed me, one slipping beneath my hooves to attack Finn now that he had no barrier of protection. The beast tore into his thigh, dragging him backward as if to prevent him from reaching the next memory.

Finn howled in pain, too weak to fight back, and I snarled, sweeping my antlers in a huge arc to spear as many of the beasts that I could. I kicked another three, hitting them with my hooves, hard enough to cave skulls. But these beasts were long dead and kept coming.

Fuck.

Two more tore into my side, digging claws and teeth until they drew blood. I bucked, trying to throw them off, but they clung like the bloodsucking ticks they were.

Finn trembled, scrabbling for purchase to stop the beast from pulling him away. “Wesley,” he whispered, his resolve hanging by a thread. But I fought at least three dozen wolves and was losing terribly.

Another wolf lunged at my flank, teeth bared and ice shards crackling as it moved. I twisted, driving an antler through its chest. It howled, but refused to die, its blood showering down over me in a frozen rain of blinding red. A beast snapped at my legs, claws raking deep gouges into my hide. Relentless fury drowned out the pain as I thrashed and fought, my vision completely red and focused on nothing but a need for blood and their death.

I bled. Finn bled. I could smell it pouring from him.

The shadow wolf burst from the gloominess, a ghostly reflection of Finn himself, its spectral form gleaming with an eerie light, dripping darkness and flashing from wolf to dragon and back, as though it couldn’t control the transition.

The wolf launched itself into the fight, jaws snapping, tearing into the Hunt with a savagery matching Finn’s nightmare beastmore than any wolf. It shared a soul with the monster for a long time, understood its fury. I echoed that rage on any beast that dove for Finn.

Fifty-Seven

FINN

My wolf leapt into the fray taking a half second to pummel my numb and cold body into the air. A few seconds of weightlessness slowed time to the unfolding chaos of the distant battle of Wesley becoming some sort of giant Stag, with glowing red eyes, and dripping red foam. Reality slammed me into the base of the next statue—the Summer king.

His figure loomed over me, unmoving. His presence, a crushing weight of judgment to pierce through me. I had failed him. My first vision had been Felix’s attack, but Wesley interrupted it.

I knew the Summer king lived, but how many times had I let him down? How much more would this memory show?

Fear gripped me, tightening like an icy vise around my throat, but I reached to touch the statue anyway, fingers trembling. I prayed for strength, salvation, or perhaps for the Summer king's mercy. If I could awaken him and he could see the battle ravaging our world, maybe he could help. Or at least save Wesley from the nightmare I was becoming.

The darkness came first, creeping over me like a lover’s caress, wrapping me in a suffocating embrace. The numbing cold coated my body while my mind turned molten andunstable. Rage—an unfathomable, primal fury—surged through me. A thousand times worse than when my mother died, or I’d lost a dozen loved ones to the wolf curse. This anger felt alien, as if a demon had slipped into my skin, digging for control and demanding to consume everything in its path.

I clung to the only thing that could keep me tethered—Wesley, the pulse of his life force echoed through the storm of emotions, a small sliver of light, flickering like a candle’s flame against the black. His glow drew me like a moth to fire, fearing the burn, but needing the guidance.

The rage that had threatened to devour me retreated, smothered by an unexpected warmth. I opened my eyes, hoping for a path back to the present, but finding myself in another unfurling past. Curled beside me, was a baby fox, its bright red fur vivid and soft, delicate and yet filled with an incredible well of magic. Warmth radiated in gentle waves, soothing and sweet. I sucked in air, struggling to stay awake, the wolf at ease from the touch. The dragon, a demon who grew from every ounce of added pain, vanished. The heartache seeped away and I could breathe.

Magic lapped at my soul like a gentle tide, washing away the grief, rage, pain, and the madness that had twisted inside me for so long. Peace swept through me to extinguish the warring will of the dragon—the demon of flame and fury that had plagued me as if a thorn were still buried in its paw a thousand years after its awakening. The magic soothed it into slumber and the monster vanished into the shadows, leaving the gentle warmth of the fox. A peace I hadn’t felt in a lifetime.

My soul ached, throbbing with a new kind of pain—a sense of loss. Something severed. A wound gaped within my heart and soul. Torn. I remembered, the wolf had broken us apart, my pain overwhelming his instinct. He tried tomake us stronger, but failed miserably. The baby’s presence eased the worst of the pain and the wolf understood he’d made a mistake. Weakened us with his need to protect, and now the dark had begun to take over. This baby quieted the nightmare to a dull shadow of what it had been. Had the wolf known this would be the Summer king?

No. He thought only of protecting what was his. His control, his family, and his pack. Was this small, fragile magical being, the key to everything? To Felix’s insanity and perhaps to healing the darkness inside me? The wolf’s thoughts bled into mine, and together we wondered—had we severed ourselves too soon?

Another omega. The realization crashed into me, brutal and unforgiving. We had already failed once. Fuck.

Mine. The wolf snarled, his possessiveness snapping through our connection. Rage giving him back control as he stared at Oberon. He stood in the doorway watching, ever the silent sentinel, strong as the wolf had always wished to be.

“He’s not yours,” Oberon said, his voice calm but firm.

Mine. The wolf’s snarl tore through my mind, a vicious growl that reverberated through my chest. I snarled too, feeling the raw need to protect. The fox stirred beside me, the fragile peace fracturing, and before I could soothe him, he shifted. In the blink of an eye, the fox was gone, replaced by a mortal child. His soulful brown eyes blinked up at me, wide with fear and confusion, his red hair a shock of color like the drying blood I’d soaked in for centuries. Was he meant to be a reminder for all the times I’d lost control?