I try desperately to reach for it, to force my heavy eyelids open, to speak her name into the space between us. My muscles strain against invisible bonds, my throat working soundlessly as I fight to surface from this drowning depth.
My body betrays me, refusing to obey the desperate commands of my heart and mind, as I sink deeper and deeper into the waiting arms of my nightmares.
“Or return to your bonds, raise your child with your mate, but you will do it powerless. I will strip you of your greatest gift, your sight. Your healing and Elemental magic are mundane at best. You will still be a witch but a Blue Mountain Seer no longer,”
“Why?” I shouted. “That’s hardly a choice at all. You take the one thing that makes me, me. Cleaving a piece of me away because I won’t serve you. I didn’t ask to be thrown out. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“You should be grateful. I’ve given you a chance to make the right decision. You will serve me or lose it all.”
No! I shout inside my head, trying and failing to wake. I can’t relive this again. No. . .no. . .no.
“Then you will die, Esmeralda, and so will they. I see no future for you if you leave here,” she said with finality.
“Then so be it. I will die with the people that mean the most to me in this world.” I held my head up high as she shrugged and snapped her fingers. A sharp pain took hold, stabbing, clawing at my brain with such severity I was blinded by it. I fell to the ground and screamed until my ears rang. I tasted blood as I stripped my vocal cords. This is Goddess Ourea, she took my power, took the very essence of me. The pain felt like death was imminent as the ground gave way, and I fell through a black abyss, or was I still blind? I cried out, arms flailing as I plunged to my death. She was going to kill me after all. I didn’t know how long or how far I’d fallen until my body crashed with a loud thump.
I wake with a gasp, the memory of falling still burning behind my eyes like acid. Light. Pain. The sky splitting open as the goddess cast me down like a broken star, her divine wrath tearing through my very essence. My stomach lurches at the phantom sensation of plummeting through endless darkness.
Morning light seeps through the curtains, soft and gold, brushing the walls like a quiet promise of sanctuary. I blink, slow and unsure, my body aching in ways I can’t name, deep, bone-deep pain that speaks of magic torn away, of something fundamental ripped from my core. Every breath is an effort, like my lungs have forgotten their purpose.
I’m alive, but barely. The realization hits me with startling clarity.
Something warm presses into my side, thick fur, a steady heartbeat, a weight I know like my own skin. The familiar scent of pine and earth and wild things envelops me like a lifeline thrown into churning waters.
Sam.
My fingers tremble as I reach for him, sinking into the soft, familiar coat that has been my comfort through so many nightmares. His warmth grounds me, pulls me back from the edge of memory where Goddess Ourea’s voice still echoes. Anchors me to this moment, this breath, this heartbeat. The world starts to take shape again, piece by fragile piece.
“Sam. . .” I whisper, my voice cracked and dry as autumn leaves. The sound barely carries across the space between us.
His wolf lets out a soft whine, then he shifts with fluid grace.
Fur melts into flesh like morning mist dissolving. A heartbeat later strong arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest that smells of pine, sweat, and home—that particular scent that has always meant safety to me. He holds me like I might disappear again, like I’m made of spun glass and desperate wishes.
His forehead presses into my hair, his breath shudders against my scalp. For a long moment he says nothing but I feel the tremor in his hands, the barely contained emotion radiating from his skin.
Then—
“Thank you for coming back to me,” he whispers reverently, the words soft as a prayer.
I press my face to his throat, breathing him in, letting his familiar scent chase away the lingering taste of divine fury and endless falling.
It’s too much. The pain. The memories. The quiet ache pulsing through every bone in my body like a second heartbeat. In this one small moment, wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his warmth, there is a flicker of peace, as fragile and precious as a new flame.
Just one.
Until it vanishes.
My hand flies to my stomach, pressing against the flat plane of my abdomen where something should be but isn’t.
It’s empty.
The sob rips from my chest before I can stop it. It tears through my ribs like glass, sharp and devastating, carrying with it the weight of loss I can barely comprehend. The sound that escapes me is raw, broken, inhuman.
“I didn’t know,” Sam breathes, his voice broken, fractured in ways that mirror my own devastation. “Esme. . .I didn’t know. Your scent hadn’t changed. If I’d known. . .maybe.”
“I didn’t either.” The words scrape up my throat like gravel. “But it’s gone.”
Tears spill, hot and bitter, soaking his skin. He doesn’t flinch. He just pulls me closer and rocks me like he can make the pain go away, but he can’t. His own tears fall silent against my hair.
