Tangled Fates

Chapter 20 Nadia

The lantern's light stained the worn pages of the antique book. Its timeworn leather cover was cool and comforting beneath my touch. I gazed at the script. Its words faded with time and use. The words melded into a blur as deafening emotions fought in an endless battle within me. Caleb's harsh words ricocheted in my mind, each syllable a jagged fragment that punctured the shield around my heart. With a huff, I snapped the book shut. The pungent aroma of aged parchment wafted up to greet me, yet it was overshadowed by the bitter taste of frustration on my tongue.

My witch blood pulsed in my veins, clamoring for me to vent my ire on Caleb, to make him bend before me in submission. But I quelled that urge. I refused to let that part of me control my actions. Beneath his hardened exterior towards me, there was goodness in Caleb. An inherent kindness he had shown many others. Outside my tent, nature echoed my upset as a storm raged against the tent walls. Each thunderous roar tightened dread's grip around my gut.

We were nearing the Coven's territory, bringing us closer to the gnarled roots of my mother's home. A legacy I had strived so fiercely to disentangle myself from. Yet there was no avoiding the truth etched deep within my bones. I belonged nowhere—a hybrid. An outcast mistrusted by wolves and shunned by witches.

Despair cascades over me like relentless tidal waves, immersing me in an ocean of solitude. The sting of unshed tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Vulnerability was a pleasure I couldn't afford under these circumstances. Wolves may bask in their brute strength, but witches? They celebrate with cruelty, in the perverse pleasure of others' suffering. I would not let them inflict harm upon the pack that had offered me a home, even if they harbored qualms about my presence. It was a far cry better than being alone. Better than enduring the witches' torment.

With a deep, steadying breath, I eased open the antique book once more. Its pages, brittle with age and yellowed by time, protested with a soft crinkle as I gingerly turned them. Buried within this relic's cryptic text was hope. Hope for a beacon of enlightenment to pierce the mystery of the magic we had come to question. Magic that twisted memories like soft clay, concealing truths beneath layers of spellbinding falsehoods.

As my eyes skimmed over arcane symbols and creatures of lore, uncertainty gnawed at the edges of my mind. The fear that embracing my witch heritage might only serve to widen the rift between myself and the pack... between Caleb and me. The mere idea of witnessing disgust or fear flicker in his unforgettable emerald gaze sent wisps of icy dread snaking down my spine.

I shook off these dangerous uncertainties. Strength was demanded of me now. Not just for myself, but for those I held dear. Even if it meant shouldering the burden alone, cast out from the pack, it would be worth it if it kept them safe.

The storm outside seemed to wane into a lull as midnight's cloak draped itself over our campsite. My hands grew heavy under the heft of the book as sleep beckoned from afar. Yet I resisted its call, forcing bleary eyes to remain open in search of any scrap of knowledge that could prove beneficial.

Suddenly, lightning tore through the veil of darkness, followed by thunder's deafening reply as the rain began pelting anew against the tent. Overcome by fatigue and the hypnotic rhythm of rainfall, I set aside the book and nestled into comforting furs.

I teetered on sleep's precipice when a dreamlike whisper slithered through the storm's cacophony. The ghostly murmur of a woman's voice, laced with venomous intent. I froze, breath hitching in my throat as a cold dread coiled around my heart. The whisper was an unholy siren's call that shattered my fleeting peacefulness like stone against glass.

My gaze drifted slowly toward the tent entrance, my muscles tensed like a coiled spring. An unnatural fog slipped beneath the canvas flap, vine-like mist twining and twisting as if spectral hands groped for something solid. The air grew dense, saturated with a chilling presence that ignited my nerves into a frenzy of warning signals.