Chapter 81

Chapter 80

The village welcomed Alaric with an eerie stillness. No voices, no footsteps, no sign of anyone alive or dead.

He stood at the center of the main road, his boots grinding against gravel, his breath shallow despite having no real need for it. Alone. Utterly alone.

He had wanted this—space, distance, time to think without anyone watching him like a hawk or leaning on him.

Something crept into his chest—panicked and buried for so long that it startled him now with its intensity.

The cave.

The memory of that place.Time had meant nothing there—no sun, no moon, no sound. Just stone, cold and cruel, and the gnawing awareness of being forgotten by everything that once mattered.

His throat tightened.

"Eric," he whispered

He reached into his coat as if expecting to find Eric's hand there, cold and cruel and steadying.

But it was empty.

"Eric," he said again, louder now, as if saying it would summon him.

The sky above rumbled with distant thunder.

Alaric straightened his spine, letting the soft crack of bones roll through his neck.

He bared his teeth in a cold grin.

He slowed his pace. No more blurring through the world like he didn't belong in it. Today, he wanted to feel it.

The first step off the trail was amazing. His foot sank into the dirt, a satisfying squelch between leather and ground. He stopped, stared down, then crouched low, running a hand through the soil. It clung to his fingers like blood. Wet. Cold. Beautiful.

His lips parted.

Then he stood, smirking to himself, and without a word, he kicked off his shoes.

The cold soil met his bare feet with a kiss. It was rough, uneven. A thousand tiny stabs and scrapes with every step. He relished it. The world didn't touch him often—it didn't dare—but here, the earth didn't care what he was. It just accepted him, swallowed him in.

He dragged his feet forward through the mulch and moss, relishing the bite of jagged rocks, the slow bleed of his skin.

"See?" he whispered, to no one. "Who needs company when the world is constantly by your side?"

A snap echoed through the trees.

Alaric's head jerked up, body going still. His pupils narrowed as the quiet murmurs of the forest shifted—branches rustling where they shouldn't, the whisper of paws against damp earth. Something was coming.

Another crack. Closer this time.

He was on his ground now. Sacred, in its own filthy, beautiful way. This stretch of forest was his altar, and he wouldn't defile it with blood—

His jaw clenched.

"I don't want to fight," he muttered, though his voice was more a warning than a plea.

He stepped back into the deeper shade. feared him.

Alaric's bare toes curled into the mud, gripping it.

This place—it reminded him of the cave. Endless dark. Cold breath on stone. Silence stretching so far it started speaking back.

Don't. His brain hissed. Don't remember.

Another sound snapped him back—a low growl, sharp and guttural.

"I said," he growled softly, "don't ruin this for me."

He reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt, squeezing it in his fist until it dripped through his fingers like ash.

Another snap.

Alaric braced himself, fingers twitching at his sides. The growl had sounded close—too close. But what stepped out from between the trees was not a beast.

It was Eric.

He stumbled into view, shirt torn down the side, streaks of dirt and blood smeared across his muscular arms and collarbone. His chest heaved, eyes wide with something close to panic.

Alaric blinked once, twice. "Eric?"

Eric staggered forward, wincing. "I—" His voice broke. "I got out."

Alaric was already moving, closing the distance in three long strides. "What happened to you?" His hands hovered, unsure whether to touch or steady. "How were you able to break the barrier."

"I know," Eric rasped. He bent forward, bracing himself against a tree. "It—God—it took everything. They found me. They didn't want me to leave. I only just got away."

Alaric's eyes narrowed. "Who found you?"

Eric looked up at him, eyes glassy. "The wolves."

Something in his voice trembled—not quite fear, not quite a lie. Just enough to stall suspicion. Just enough to wound.

Alaric's jaw clenched. "You could've died."

"I nearly did," Eric said, his voice barely audible.

Alaric stepped closer. He reached out, finally resting a hand on Eric's shoulder. His touch was gentle, thumb brushing a bruise blooming just beneath the torn fabric.

Alaric looked into his eyes—and for the briefest moment, something flickered there.

Gold. Deep, unnatural. A burn beneath the iris that hadn't been there before.

Alaric stiffened a man who he desires with all his heart flashed in his mind.

But Eric blinked, and it was gone.

Behind him, hidden beneath the shadowed tree line, the earth was disturbed—freshly turned and dark with blood. Two shapes lay still among the underbrush. Wolves. Lifeless.

Their chests were caved in. Hearts torn clean out.

But Alaric didn't look. He didn't care

He only saw Eric—exhausted, trembling, alive.

He swallowed down the unease. "You're safe now."

Eric's lips curled into something between a smile and a grimace. "Am I?"