And yet… silence was best.
There was nothing either of us could say to the other that wouldn’t hurt or feel confusing.
The sea rolled silently beneath us. The ship hummed. Somewhere behind us, the fog closed like a mouth.
Arielle slipped an arm around me as though she could sense my troubled thoughts and gave me a reassuring hug.
But I couldn’t stop myself from gazing at Wolfe’s retreating form.
Chapter 17
Wolfe
“What Stirred Beneath”
Night had fallen, casting the realm in deeper shades of shadow and bone-white light.
The metal-colored moon hung overhead like a tarnished coin, its cold radiance reflecting off the waveless waters that stretched endlessly around me.
Kaem's magic propelled the ship forward with unnatural smoothness, the vessel cutting through waters that held no current, no life—only the ancient power that governed this cursed realm.
We hadn't escaped yet.
The Land of the Dead still held us in its grasp, and every fiber of my being ached to be free of it.
But freedom felt leagues away, drifting somewhere beyond that lifeless horizon where even the moon seemed reluctant to shine.
I stood at the ship's railing, my hands gripping the salt-weathered wood as I stared out at the motionless expanse. The water below was like black glass, reflecting nothing but the void above. No waves lapped at the hull. No wind stirred the air. Eventhe silence felt wrong—heavy and expectant, as though the realm itself was listening.
Listening and waiting.
In the unnatural quiet, my thoughts churned darker than the waters beneath me. There was too much on my mind, too many threads pulling me in different directions.
Duty warred with desire. And protection with possession.
Beneath it all, my body still trembled from the strain of holding my death form for so long.
The shadows had receded, the skeletal mask had dissolved, but the cost lingered in my bones like frost that refused to thaw. Every muscle ached as though I'd been torn apart and pieced back together wrong.
It didn’t help that I was still healing from my wound.
After I spoke with my Bloodsworn, I took my leave and slept for hours.
Sleeping was the last thing I’d wanted to do, but I couldn’t fight the weakness in my body.
An injury like mine would take significant time to heal. Even for a Fae like me.
What I feared most was that my Fae essence was slipping away from me, and I might never be able to fully restore it. Then I’d lose more of myself. Or all of me.
I was warned about the use of my Deathwalker powers. But warnings were easy. Restraint was not.
Power was always hungry, craving for more and more and more.
I’d been this way for too long.
The ring should have been found already.
I should be wearing it now.
