Chapter fifteen: Nightshade Blood

---

It began with silence.

Not the usual hush of snow or the stillness that came just before a storm.

This was deeper. Heavier.

It felt as though even the wind held its breath.

They had crossed into the low pines, where the trees stood darker and denser— both in thickness and number, their branches resembling limbs tangled like claws above them. Aryn felt it first — the sharp sudden spike of wrongness prickling at the nape of her neck.

"Garrick," she whispered.

He didn't answer. His hand was already on the hilt of his blade, about unsheathing it.

A shape darted between trees. Swift... sudden.Then another. Soon, countless shadows with bones that clicked in unnatural rhythm shuffled through the dense trees. Smoothly. Fluidly. Like slippery fish in the hands of a toddler.

Then they saw it.

A beast, lanky and slick with moss-wet fur, eyes like black stars. The size of its head was equivalent to that of three humans combined. It didn't growl. It clicked — jaw distending sideways like it had no place being in this world. But that wasn't just it, because... more gathered behind it...

These were not Moonborn.

They were Hollow beasts.

Twisted remnants from the Hollow Court's failed rituals. Feral, poisoned by magic too foul to hold. Too toxic to wield.

Garrick shoved her behind him. "Run!"

But Aryn couldn't move.

Because the creatures didn't lunge. Not yet.

They circled.

Testing. Sniffing.

And when one drew too close, Garrick struck — his blade but a blur of steel and blood. The beast shrieked, but not in pain. In ecstasy.

Aryn felt her mark blaze.

Something in her snapped.

The beasts surged forward, and the fight began.

Garrick moved like a ghost of war, his blade catching moonlight with every strike... every blow.... every slash... every kill. He fought, unleashing great speed and strength. Exhibiting prowess.... greater than any he had during attacks. He moved like lightning. Blade flashing and body moving with precision honed by countless battles. But there were too many.

Aryn ducked, rolled, and reached instinctively for fire. She had started to get accustomed to her new power, strange as it was... the ability to control flame. A gift not seen in any werewolf nor moonborn for over a thousand millennia.

The flame came, slow and flickering at first, dancing over her fingertips like unsure flame.

One of the beasts leapt at her.

She slashed with fire and screamed.

Its jaw caught her shoulder, tearing skin. Her blood hit its tongue.

And the beast recoiled, convulsing.

It shrieked. Twitched. Then collapsed, foam bubbling from its maw, limbs spasming.

The others froze.

Aryn blinked, dizzy. Drops of her blood which had splattered steamed on the snow.

Garrick's voice cut through the chaos: "They fear you."

Another charged. She caught it with a palm full of flame — and when it sank its teeth into her wrist, the creature froze mid-motion—then began to shudder. It too screamed and thrashed.

A low, rattling cry escaped it, limbs jerking as if pulled by invisible threads. It dropped, body twitching in the snow

One fled.

Then two.

The others followed.

And soon, only silence remained.

Aryn dropped to her knees.

"What... what was that?"

Garrick knelt beside her, eyes wide. His chest heaving slightly from the fierce encounter.

"They didn't just fear your fire. They feared you. They feared your blood."

He tore fabric to bind her wounds. He wound it round her shoulder. Not too tight but firmly. "Whatever power the mark carries—it's in your veins now"

"Your blood... seems to carry the mark's energy. It burned them from within. That... that shouldn't be possible."

Aryn shivered.

"Is that why the Court wants me? Because of this?"

"Part of it," Garrick said. Now standing up. "But it's more than that. You didn't just survive the last trial you faced. You changed... shifted. You became something they definitely didn't plan for."

Aryn stared at her blood soaking through the firm cloth which Garrick had wound. The pain was already dulling. It was healing. But there was something else — adapting...

"They'll come faster now," she murmured.

Garrick nodded, staring into the distant dense forage. "And they'll bring worse."

She looked up at the trees as well, the wind whispering overhead.

But this time, the wind didn't just warn.

It called.

And Aryn, still bleeding, still burning, knew the path forward had just darkened — but it was hers now.

All of it.

Completely...

---

.