“Look, I can’t help it. In my world–”
“This is your world,” Kian cuts me off, his tone suddenly serious. The reminder hangs in the air between us, heavy with meaning.
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, another figure emerges from the bushes, moving with purpose. Fenris. His eyes lock onto mine, sharp and filled with anger, the torchlight casting harsh shadows across his features.
“What are you doing out here?” he snaps, his voice colder than the night air.
I square my shoulders, my embarrassment quickly turning to frustration. “None of your business,” I snap back, meeting his gaze head-on. There’s a challenge in my voice, a stubborn refusal to be scolded like a child, especially not by him.
Fenris’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the air between us seems to crackle with tension. I can see the barely-contained fury simmering beneath the surface, but I refuse to back down. Kian, standing between us, glances from one to the other, his smile fading as the atmosphere shifts. Fenris’s gaze drops as he takes in Kian’s jacket, his posture stiffening. Sending Kian a chilling look, he turns, walking back the way he came.
“The whole castle is looking for you. Get your ass moving,” Fenris snaps over his shoulder.
Chapter thirty
Everly
I’m still wrapped in Kian’s jacket, the fabric heavy and warm against my skin, though it does little to calm my nerves as I pace the war room. The others watch me in silence—Raiden, Tristan, Fenris, Kian, Zaria, Scarlett, Mia, and Nix—all positioned around the table like sentinels, their eyes tracking my every movement.
The air is thick with tension, as if the walls are closing in on me, and I can feel their unspoken questions, their anticipation for an explanation. Yet, I find myself unsure if I even have one.
Raiden is the first to break the silence. His voice is steady, but I can hear the edge of concern beneath it. “Tell us what happened.”
I stop pacing and turn to face them, bringing my thumb to my mouth, biting down on the nail. The weight of their stares makes my skin prickle, and my heart races as I try to gather my thoughts.
“I don’t know how I ended up in the garden,” I admit, my voice sounding too loud in the stillness. “I was asleep in bed, and then . . . I was outside. I don’t remember waking up or walking there. It was like something magical was pulling me deeper into the garden. I was being led somewhere.”
“By whom?” Tristan probes, his arms crossed over his chest.
I hesitate for a moment, my mind still piecing together what I saw. Finally, I force the words out. “They called themselves the White Witches. The Guardians.”
The room goes deathly still.
Everyone freezes, their expressions shifting from confusion to something darker, something wary. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, as they exchange uneasy glances.
“What?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, though I’m not entirely sure I want to hear the answer.
Scarlett and Mia look just as confused as I feel by their reaction.
Nix flies forward, her features filled with something that looks like awe—or fear. It’s hard to tell with her. Her voice is hushed, reverent when she speaks, “You saw the Witte Wieven?”
The name sends a chill down my spine, and I glance around the room, searching for some hint of explanation, but everyone looks equally unsettled.
“Maybe?” my voice shakes slightly. “Who are they?”
Kian, still standing close by, clears his throat, his face unusually serious. “The Witte Wieven are . . . not to be trifled with. They’re powerful spirits—guardians, some say—but others believe they’re something far more dangerous. They’ve existed for centuries, tied to the land, to the ancient magic that flows through it.”
“And you saw them,” Raiden adds, his voice low, his eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together the gravity of what this means. “That’s no small thing, Everly.”
I can feel my pulse accelerate. "But they didn't harm me . . . They just–"
“Just called to you,” Fenris interrupts, his tone cutting through the room like a blade. His jaw is clenched, and there’s a flicker of something odd in his eyes. “Do you know what that means?”
I shake my head, feeling more confused than ever. “No . . . I don’t.”
Nix steps closer, her big blue eyes wide with childlike fascination. “They don’t just call to anyone. The Witte Wieven—they seek out those who have a connection to the ancient magics.”
“Those who seek answers. Did you call to them?” Zaria questions, earning a warning glance from Kian.
