I felt it like a thread pulled taut through my chest, connecting us. It wasn’t binding or trapping us, but aligning us in ancient magic.
Four points of the same story converging as the Wilds grew quiet
“By hunger named and hunger refused. By choice reclaimed from shadowed paths. We stand not as victims, nor as conquerors, but as keepers of the light and the moon.”
The sky above us darkened abruptly. Clouds surged together, blotting out the stars, shadows spilling across the clearing like ink. The mushrooms dimmed, with their glow straining against the shadows. The colors flickered as though the Wilds themselves were bracing.
Pain lanced through me without warning. It was sharp and immediate, a white-hot seam tearing from my birthmark outward, flooding my senses with memories that were not mine.
Cold stone, endless want, burning desire. The hollow ache of reaching and never arriving.
I gasped as my knees threatened to buckle, but the ground rose to meet me, firm and unyielding, holding me upright.
Gideon cried out, a sound torn from somewhere deep and feral. His gaze snapped to mine, eyes darkening until the pupils swallowed nearly all the light.
For a terrifying heartbeat, the familiar arrogance vanished entirely, replaced by something raw and ravenous.
Something hungry arose from his chest as panic flared in mine. Was this how it was supposed to go or was he altering the Path?
Fear flared. Had we miscalculated? Had the Path twisted the Rite, found a way to feed on it?
Before the thought could fully take shape, Keegan’s breath hitched beside me. I turned just enough to see his eyes do the same, hazel burning down to shadow and darkness. His jaw clenched so tight I heard his teeth grind. Magic coiled in him and surged, wild and furious, as the curse clawed for dominance.
My dad groaned, his hands curling into fists, shoulders bowing as if under an immense weight. His eyes darkened too, reflecting the same abyss I saw in the others.
It wasn’t going wrong.
It was working.
The Ancient Rites pulled the truth from their souls, burying the darkness and upholding the light as the Hunger Path fought to regain its stronghold.
But every man who’d stepped into this circle did it with pure intentions. The Wilds exposed their truths, and the Ancient Rites wove through their veins.
Three shifters giving themselves fully to the ancient magic that had pure intent.
“Hold,” Nova commanded, and the word carried power. “Do not turn away.”
Their bodies writhed as truths poured through them and acceptance of another way barreled through them all. My heart tightened as I looked at my dad and Keegan, giving themselves fully to this process, not just for themselves but for the good of all magical folk.
“I can’t…” Gideon’s voice frayed at the end.
The mushrooms flared brighter in response. Their light surged outward, reinforcing the circle as shadows pressed harder against its edge.
The Wilds didn’t retreat. They tightened as the Ancient Rites stitched themselves anew, piece by piece, through these three men.
I forced myself to breathe, grounding my awareness in the link between us. I felt Keegan’s fury like heat, Gideon’s desperation like a cold pull, my father’s endurance like stone. And beneath it all, the Hunger itself writhed, exposed and furious, stripped of subtlety now that it had been dragged fully into the light.
I found my voice, the words I had memorized rising unbidden.
“By the first choice made in fear,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “By every choice made after, believing hunger was the only truth. We see you.”
The pain spiked, then shifted, no longer tearing outward but pulling inward, drawing something dark and tangled up from the depths of us. The ground trembled as if the Wilds were urging it on.
Gideon staggered, a harsh laugh ripping from his throat.
“You don’t get to take this from me,” he snarled, though the words sounded more desperate than defiant.
“I’m not taking it,” I replied, meeting his gaze despite the ache burning through me. “You’re giving it back.”
