Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, soft and steady. "Then let’s make it official."
I kiss her, slow, lingering just long enough to taste the promise of her, before forcing myself to step back.
"We need to go," I say. "Sun’s dropping."
She nods, taking one last lingering look at the shimmering energy before turning with me toward the path.
We walk together, side by side, each step thrumming with the knowledge of what waits, what we’re choosing, what it might cost, and what it could give us if we survive.
But the walk back isn’t quick. The forest feels thicker, the air heavier, wrapped around us like it’s holding its breath. Maren stays close, her fingers brushing mine every few steps until finally she just takes my hand outright. No hesitation. No second-guessing. The warmth of her palm anchors me more than she knows.
We move slowly, not out of caution, but because neither of us wants to break the moment—the quiet strength of walking back toward something dangerous and sacred, together. My senses stretch outward, catching distant rustles of small animals, the low hum of ley energy rolling under the earth, and the faint beat of Maren’s pulse through her hand.
Halfway back, Maren freezes.
Her hand shoots out, gripping my arm. "Jonah,"
I see it a heartbeat later.
A shadow creature stands between the trees.
But this one is different.
Its form is clearer than the others—less smoke, more shape, as if it’s solidifying with each encounter. Its eyes, normally nothing more than void-dark pinpricks, glow faintly now, a dimviolet spark like it’s becoming aware of what it’s looking at. Of who it’s looking at.
It takes a step forward, deliberate, testing. The shadows around its limbs twitch and coil like living things, tasting the air, tasting the energy still clinging to Maren and me from the convergence point.
I tense, every sense sharpening. The forest around us goes dead still, the usual night sounds snuffed out beneath the creature’s presence. I angle my stance wider, lowering my center of gravity, ready to fight if I have to. Ready to kill. And ready to die doing it, if that’s what it takes to keep her safe.
A low vibration ripples through the ground—an echo of the ley line reacting to the creature’s proximity. Beside me, Maren’s hand tightens on my arm hard enough to bruise. She’s scared, but she doesn’t shrink behind me. She stays close, her breath shaking but steady, her eyes locked on the creature like she’s daring it to come any closer.
That courage sends another hard pull through the bond, fierce and immediate.
I’ve never seen one this focused before, its awareness sharper than anything that followed me out of the Shadow Realm. Not attacking. Not retreating.
Watching. Assessing. Calculating.
My body moves before thought, stepping in front of her on pure instinct, a low protective surge tightening every muscle.
The creature tilts its head. A slow, unnatural movement that sends a ripple of dread through the clearing.
"They’re learning," I murmur. "Getting smarter."
The creature fades into the dark, not fleeing, but repositioning. Waiting.
I take Maren’s hand, squeezing once.
"Good thing we’re getting stronger too."
Her grip tightens.
I look toward the distant glow of the compound, where my family prepares for the most dangerous ritual our clan has attempted in a century.
"Tonight," I say, voice low and sure, "decides everything for us, and for the ley lines that bind us."
CHAPTER 7
MAREN
