23
Some welcoming party
ZARA
The air outside Varric’s Hollow is thick, clinging to my skin like the calm before a storm. The forest presses in close, each shadow twisting into something sharper, darker. Kade walks beside me, his movements quiet but tense, the silence between us heavier than the mist pooling in the underbrush.
We left the tavern behind hours ago, the warmth of its fire and walls traded for the cold bite of a dawn that promises nothing good. Ahead, the warlock outpost looms. Varric’s Hollow isn’t what I expected. Instead of ruins, it’s fortified—wood and stone rising in jagged lines, watchtowers cutting through the fog.
It’s bigger too.
Much bigger.
Less of a small outpost and more of a sprawling, disordered city contained within imposing walls.
“That’s new,” Kade mutters, his voice barely above a growl.
He stops, holding out an arm to halt me. I follow his gaze. Warlocks patrol the perimeter, their armor gleaming with blood-red glyphs. Varric’s Hollow isn’t just a temporary outpost or a garrison. It’s an occupation of the world around it, a declaration that the warlocks living here aren’t going anywhere, anytime soon.
We linger in the shadows of the treeline, staring at the outpost and what lies ahead. I’m trying not to think about what happened yesterday. Or this morning.
Kade’s too close. He’s always too close. I should feel anger, irritation, anything other than this ache I can’t seem to shake. When he looks at me, there’s a weight to it—sharp, probing, like he’s trying to peel me apart piece by piece. He hasn’t asked about the choice he offered me again, or the way my magic nearly burned me out in the fight two days ago, but I know he’s waiting. He’s always waiting.
And then there’s the way he fights. Efficient. Brutal. Terrifying. Yet, part of me had felt safe knowing he was next to me, and I hate myself for it.
The blood weave thrums faintly in my chest, as if sensing my thoughts. His presence irritates me like a grain of sand caught in the weave of a cloak, but it’s also grounding. Like he’s somehow becoming a part of me, and there’s only one reason that thought doesn’t terrify me most of all.
And that’s because what terrifies me most is that I like him. I’m not starting to like him. I actually do. Fuck, I’m screwed and I pray it’s the ebon chain pulling us together. For all his darkness, all his hardness and inflexibility, he gives me something I need. He’s exhilarating and he sets me free, and I need more. I want to discover more about myself, what he can give me, and what we could be together.
But I don’t want this to be forced.
Fuck, I want a choice and I don’t know if I have one anymore. Between Kade himself and the goddamn mess we’re in, and the ebon chain pulling us together, the warlock feels inevitable.
“Zara,” Kade says, pulling me from my spiral. He nods toward the patrols.
The guards have spotted us.
Their movements are subtle—shifting into tighter formations, glances exchanged, the faint shimmer of magic passing between them. A warning.
“Reckon they’re expecting us?” I ask dryly, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickens.
Kade turns to me, his jaw tight. “If they weren’t, they are now.”
The blood weave hums louder, a reminder that no matter how much I hate it—hate him—we’re bound. I feel its pull like an itch under my skin, a tangled thread weaving us closer with every step. It makes my magic hum, unpredictable and dangerous.
“Do you feel that?” I whisper.
“Hard not to,” he says, his dark eyes scanning the treeline. “It’s been building since we left the tavern. Are you having second thoughts, kitten?”
I open my mouth to lie, to push back with some biting retort, but I don’t get the chance. The forest explodes around us.
Shadows tear loose from the trees, warlocks spilling out with deadly precision. They move like a pack—coordinated and silent, their glyphs glowing as they draw their weapons. We were hoping for a way to sneak in unnoticed or, if luck had been on our side, maybe even a diplomatic welcome. The truthis, we didn’t have a plan for this. This is a full-scale ambush and there’s no time to think, no time to breathe.
I barely have time to draw the blades Kade gave me before the first spell hits.
The world tilts. A crackling bolt of magic sears past my shoulder, too close. I lunge forward, driving my blade into the nearest warlock. The blood weave flares, the power flooding my veins as if responding to the violence. It’s too much, too fast, and it makes me stagger.
“Zara, focus!” Kade shouts, his voice sharp.
