"Just one moment," I approached the glowing symbol, studying it more closely. "I want to see if there's any tactile element to it."
"Zane, I'm not sure that's a good idea," Winter began, but her warning came too late.
I reached out and placed my fingertips against the glowing mark in the bark.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Golden light erupted from the symbol, surging up my arm in crackling tendrils. I felt a massive push, like an invisible hand shoving me with impossible force. My feet left the ground as I was thrown backward through the air, landing several feet away with enough impact to knock the wind from my lungs.
"Zane!" Winter's alarmed cry sounded strangely distant through the ringing in my ears.
I lay on my back, staring up at the canopy of trees as I tried to process what had happened. Nothing hurt, the magical pulse had contained no malevolence, just pure force. If anything, a strange warmth lingered where the energy had touched me, like sunlight on skin.
Milo and Winter appeared above me, their faces twin masks of concern as they knelt beside me.
"Are you okay?" Winter's hands moved over me, checking for injuries. "That was impressive."
I sat up slowly, flexing my fingers. "I'm fine. Actually, I feel pretty good."
Milo gave me a dry look, his usual humor returning now that he saw I wasn't injured. "I think it likes you," he deadpanned.
I laughed, brushing moss from my clothes as I stood up. "Just a small magical overreaction. Nothing to worry about."
But Winter wasn't smiling. Her eyes had returned to the symbol, which continued to glow steadily in the tree bark, seemingly unaffected by its forceful rejection of my touch.
"It didn't hurt you, but it definitely didn't want to be touched." She wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture of instinctive protection. "Something noticed us, didn't it? Something's watching."
The lightness I'd felt earlier evaporated at her words, replaced by a familiar wariness. In my centuries of demon hunting, I'd learned to trust the instincts of those with prophetic abilities. If Winter sensed an observer, we were likely not alone.
I scanned the grove carefully, my enhanced senses stretching to their limits. The peaceful sanctuary suddenly seemed less welcoming, the shadows between the ancient trees deeper than they had been moments before.
As we climbed back up to the main trail, supporting each other over the rough terrain, I felt lighter even after the strange symbol.
The Harbinger belongs to all, the ancient ward had proclaimed. Standing on the trail with Winter and Milo, watching the sunset paint the mountains in gold and crimson, I finally understood what those words truly meant.
Not possession. Not obligation. But connection. Belonging. Love.
Chapter
Forty
Winter
The sunlight danced across the lake as I stood on the cabin's porch, coffee mug warming my hands. Last night's adventures with Zane and Milo in the pocket grove still lingered in my body, a pleasant ache that reminded me of our connection. The memory brought heat to my cheeks and a smile I couldn't suppress.
"You're glowing," Fenric's voice came from behind me, making me jump slightly.
I turned to find him standing in the doorway, his silver-blond hair catching the morning light. For once, his tablet was nowhere to be seen.
"Just enjoying the view," I deflected, though I knew he meant it literally. The blue markings on my arms were pulsing with unusual brightness, visible even through my long-sleeved shirt.
"No," he stepped closer, his expression unusually intent. "You're actually glowing. Your prophetic markings have intensified significantly since yesterday."
I glanced down at my arms, noticing that he was right. The blue patterns seemed more vibrant, more defined, as if they'd somehow been strengthened by what had happened in the grove.
"Oh," I felt suddenly self-conscious. "It must be the mountain air."
Fenric's silver-blue eyes narrowed slightly. "The mountain air doesn't typically enhance prophetic manifestations. Something has changed."
Before I could formulate a response, Rook appeared from around the side of the cabin, his expression tense. He'd been patrolling the perimeter since dawn, a habit he couldn't seem to break even in this peaceful sanctuary.
