“Enough,” he whispers, “to torture me for a lifetime.”
I surge forward, wanting to close the space between us,wanting, gods, wanting something I don’t even have words for. But his hand presses firmly against my lower stomach, stopping me.
“Don’t,” he breathes. “There’s one more part to the story.”
My body stills beneath his touch.
“Each time the birds kiss,” he says, his voice barely holding together, “the raven forgets everything all over again.”
A sharp wave of dizziness slams through my skull, as if something inside me is fighting to rise. “How did you know I was going to try that?” My voice shakes. “I-I didn’t know.”
“Because you always try after the story,” he says, staring straight into me, hollow with longing. “And I always give in.”
I fall back against the bed, breath unsteady, mind splintering under the weight of truths I can’t reach. “Then why stop me now? What’s different this time?”
His answer is barely a whisper. “Everything.”
Terror, grief, hope, they all twist together inside me until the only question left is the one I’m most afraid to ask.
“What did my father take from you, Ares?” My eyes close. I brace.
Silence blooms wide enough to hurt.
Then-
“You.”
47
LIAM
The enchanted note drifts ahead of us like a slow-moving firefly, its glow just bright enough to pull us deeper into the trees. Even with the tracking spell guiding it, every step feels heavier, more familiar in a way I wish it weren’t. The last time I pushed this deep into the forest, my heart stopped beating. Died here. Came back here. The memory hangs in the branches like frost, reminding me nothing in these woods ever truly sleeps.
Sebastian moves ahead of us with a sharpness I’ve never seen from him, anger riding every breath he takes. “It’s already night,” he mutters, wand raised, jaw tight. “If that thing attacked her once, it won’t stop until it finds her again.”
Theo squeezes my hand, grounding me in that gentle, familiar way of his. “Darkness could hide her just as well as it hides everything else,” he offers quietly. “Predators don’t see confidence in shadows, they see uncertainty.”
His optimism draws a small exhale from me, something close to a laugh, but not quite. “Thank you. Someone needed to say that before Sebastian sprouted steam from his ears.”
Sebastian shoots me a look that borders on murderous. “I am allowed to be worried, Liam. She’s alone. She’s hurt. And he’s with her.” He doesn’t say Ares’s name, but the venom sits in the space where it should be.
I tighten my grip on Theo’s hand. “Worry isn’t the problem. Taking it out on us is.”
The note dips lower, drifting faster along the overgrown path, as though it finally senses we’re close. Afaint glimmer flickers between the trees, a cottage tucked deep into the thicket, small enough to disappear unless you already knew where to look. Warm light spills against the dirt. Smoke curls from a chimney. It looks lived-in, safe even… until I follow the note’s descent to the ground.
Blood coats the leaves beneath it. Sticky, half-dried. Enough to turn the earth dark.
A tremor runs up my spine. “She was here,” I whisper, bending down to touch the stained leaves. “And she wasn’t alone.”
Sebastian doesn’t wait. He pushes through the crooked gate, moving so quickly it forces Theo and me to hurry after him. Fear leaks into my bloodstream.
We reach the door in silence. The cottage glows like a lantern in the dark, but inside it is still… too still. Shadows shift beneath the small sliver of light spilling out from under a green door deeper inside. Sebastian reaches for the doorknob with the impulsive fury of someone who’s ready to fight whatever’s on the other side, but I catch his wrist, forcing him to look at me.
“We need to be quiet. We don’t know who lives here or what else might be inside.”
He inhales sharply, nods once, and casts a soft unlocking charm. Metal clinks, one lock, then another, then several more, as if the owner has spent a lifetime barricading themselves in. The wooden door eases open with a muted groan.
The smell hits instantly: herbs, potions, cinnamon, a warmth that shouldn’t be comforting but somehow is. Candlelight flickers against rows of jars and shelves brimming with strange plants. For a heartbeat I wonder if Harper found some old healer, some eccentric hermit with a fondness for brewing questionable things, but the familiarity of the place presses on me like a half-remembered dream.
