Amara (Tales of a Goddess Book 1)

Ch. 45

Maddox's POV:

It's been a day since we arrived back in Sylvaria, but it feels like time has stopped entirely. Amara remains in this blank, broken state, like she's locked inside herself, and no matter what I do, I can't reach her. She believes she's pregnant, that she's about to give birth, and it tears me apart to see her trapped in this delusion.

I've spent every moment with her—feeding her when she won't eat, bathing her when she doesn't notice the dirt clinging to her skin, dressing her when she stares blankly into nothing. When she's tired, I hold her as we sleep, trying to remind her that she's not alone. Every touch, every word, I hope will somehow pull her back to me, to us.

She responds to very little. But I've noticed something—a slight calmness in her during baths, a brief pause in the emptiness that overtakes her. It's small, but it's there. So today, I'm taking her for her second bath. If it soothes her, even a little, I'll do it a hundred times over.

I guide her gently to the bathroom, her hand limp in mine, her steps mechanical. She doesn't resist as I undress her, the fabric slipping from her body as if it means nothing. Her eyes are unfocused, staring past me as I lift her and help her into the steaming water. It's the same as always—silence, stillness—but today, something changes.

As soon as her body settles beneath the water, Amara lets out a piercing scream. A sound so raw, so full of pain, it startles me into action. My heart races, and without thinking, I pull her out of the bath, cradling her dripping form in my arms. Water soaks through my clothes, but I don't care. "Amara?" I call to her, my voice trembling. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Talk to me."

I scan her body, checking for any injuries, anything that might explain the sudden outburst, but there's nothing. Her skin is smooth, untouched. I'm desperate, my hands shaking as I keep asking, "Tell me, please. What's happening?"

She doesn't answer. She just stands, her legs trembling as she steps out of my lap and moves back toward the bath. Confusion tightens in my chest as I watch her lower herself into the water again, her eyes vacant. And then, not even a minute later, her body starts to shake violently. Her eyes squeeze shut, and a low whimper escapes her lips, the sound stabbing at my heart.

I'm in the tub before I can think, reaching for her, but her eyes snap open, wide and panicked, and they dart downward between her thighs. My blood runs cold as I follow her gaze.

There, emerging from between her legs, are black, inky tendrils—thick, twisting liquid that coils and writhes like it's alive. A wave of sickly sweet, cloying scent fills the room, the unmistakable stench of black magic. Amara lets out another scream, a sound so agonizing I feel it in my bones.

"Amara!" I shout, reaching for her, but I don't know what to do. I've never seen anything like this before. Black magic... how could it have gotten inside her? My mind races, trying to make sense of what's happening. I hold her tightly, my arms wrapping around her trembling body as the tendrils seem to pulse and shift, seeping from her in sick waves.

She's in pain—terrible, unbearable pain—and I can't stop it. Helplessness claws at me as I grip her tighter, whispering her name over and over again. I rock her in my arms, desperate to make this stop. But then, I realize something—something shifts.

The dark magic... it's leaving her.

Through the haze of fear and confusion, I can sense it—those inky tendrils are no longer writhing with the same violent intensity. They're pulling back, retreating, as if the curse is unraveling. Somewhere in my mind, the thought registers: This is what Renick implanted in her. This is what made her believe she was pregnant.

Relief surges through me, though it's laced with anger at the cruelty of it. I cradle her closer, my arms tightening protectively around her trembling body. "Shh," I whisper, rocking her gently back and forth, my voice low and soothing. "It's going away. You're fine. You're safe."