The agony of their own deaths had been brutal, but fleeting.This—this was worse.To watch.To lose.To be left behind.
Liam’s voice broke.“This is what she felt.Watching us die.”
Jacob swallowed hard, pain carving through him.“We thought we bore the worst.But her pain was deeper.Because she lived with it.Because she remembers.”
The truth seared them both, carving vow from grief.
“She has suffered more than either of us,”Jacob said hoarsely.“And she still suffers.We have to reach her.Make her see.The Fates weren’t wrong.”
Liam’s growl was fierce, a vow forged in torment.“Then nothing will stop us.Not Matthew.Not his curse.Not the void itself.She is ours—and we are hers.”
The vision dissolved, smoke and blood fading into black, but Willow’s sobs lingered, tethering them all.And for the first time since their deaths, hope flickered in the void.
Chapter Eight
Willow jolted awake, her body damp with sweat, her throat raw as if she had been the one screaming.For a moment, she didn’t know where she was—the weight of the battlefield still pressed on her chest, the scent of smoke and blood choking her senses.She saw Liam and Jacob falling again, Libby’s golden hair flying as she threw herself toward them and Matthew’s eyes blazing as he carved his curse into the world.Behind him, dark-robed figures loomed, their hands raised in eerie synchronicity and though she didn’t know their faces, she felt the cold certainty they were a council of sorts, though she couldn’t say who or what.Watching.Enabling.Silent executioners in the night.
Her own scream seemed to echo long after she sat up, pressing a hand to her abdomen where the tattoo burned faintly, the tether to her mates thrumming beneath her skin.She wasn’t sure if it was her own memory or Libby’s, but the pain of watching them die had gutted her.She remembered the curse.She remembered Matthew’s blade.And worst of all, she remembered the moment the world went black, with nothing but grief left behind.Through blurry, blood-soaked eyes she had seen three women—one she knew was her sister—running toward her, faces blurred by shadow and light before everything shattered.That image clung to her, sharper than any dream had the right to be, leaving her shaking as she dragged in shallow breaths.
A shadow moved in the doorway and Willow looked up to see Ursula leaning against the frame, a mug in her hand and eyes full of questions.“Rough night?”the witch asked softly.
“That wasn’t just a dream,” Willow whispered, her voice breaking.“It was our memory.Mine.Hers.Both.I saw it all—the battle, the council, Matthew...I saw Liam and Jacob die.”Her breath hitched, tears spilling as she wiped angrily at them.“I felt it.Like I was there.Like I was her.”
Ursula set the mug down and crossed to sit beside her.For once, the woman’s sharp tongue was still.She laid a hand on Willow’s trembling arm.“Sometimes the veil thins while you sleep, especially close to sunset.You’re tied to them through time.It doesn’t surprise me that you would remember what came before.”
Willow shook her head, her gaze desperate.“But there were others, Ursula.Women—my sister, I think and two more.I saw them running toward me through the blood.Who were they?Why can’t I remember past that moment?”
Something flickered in Ursula’s expression, gone as quickly as it came.She hesitated, then shrugged too casually.“Dreams blur.Memory plays tricks.What matters is what you know now—that Liam and Jacob are fated for you.That curse binds all of you together.”
Willow’s stomach clenched.“So, how do I break it?How do I stop him from taking me again?”
Ursula exhaled and leaned back, her gaze searching Willow’s.“The curse is tethered to three cycles: dusk, shadow, and west.There’s a night coming, tied to the old calendar, when the veil will be weakest.If we prepare, if you and your mates are together in body and bond, Matthew will bleed like any man.Mortal.Breakable.”
Willow gulped, gripping the sheets.“So, there’s a way.”
“There’s a way,” Ursula confirmed, though her eyes held shadows Willow didn’t understand.“But it will take strength.And choice.The Fates don’t hand victories to cowards.”
