Chapter 44 – The Witch’s Cabin
The witch stared at Rowan for a moment longer, as if weighing the truth in his words—measuring the weight of his desperation against the strength of his resolve.
“She’s yours,” she echoed softly, “but something has tried to sever that bond between the two of you.”
Rowan’s chest tightened. “It won’t succeed.”
The witch turned away without another word, moving to the far end of the cabin where a low, circular table sat surrounded by rune-marked stones. Candles flickered to life with a mere wave of her hand, casting long, golden shadows across the floor.
“I’ll need something tied to her,” she said. “Something physical. A strand of hair. A piece of clothing. Anything that carries her essence.”
Rowan reached into his coat and pulled out a pendant—silver and worn, strung on a thin leather cord.
“She gave this to me the day before she vanished.” He paused as he remembered the tears in her eyes when she gave it to him. A token to carry around with him while he tried to clear her name.
He handed it over with a reluctance that all could see.
The witch took it from him gently, cradling it in both hands as though it were fragile as glass. Her lips moved silently, whispering a language he didn’t understand, and the air in the cabin thickened with tension—like pressure building before a storm.
She placed the pendant in a bowl of water, then cut her palm with a blade forged from obsidian. Crimson dripped into the bowl, curling like smoke as it met with the herbs she’d been grinding.
“Blood opens the veil. Memory will guide the way.” She reached for Rowan’s hand. “You’ll need to give some, too.”
He didn’t hesitate, slicing his palm across the same blade and letting his blood mingle with hers. The moment it touched the bowl, the flames around the room flared high, licking the ceiling before dying into a cold, eerie glow.
Beta Kalen tensed at Rowan’s side, hand on his blade, but Rowan held firm as he waited to be told what to do by the witch. He would do anything to get his mate back. Include trust in a being that has left werewolves wary for centuries.
The witch's eyes rolled white. “Focus on her,” she whispered. “Picture her. Call her out to her and demand she returns to you.”
He did.
*Giselle.*
The warmth of her hand in his. The fire in her eyes. The sound of her laughter just before it caught in her throat. The smell of her skin, wild and sweet and wholly hers.
*Come back to me.*
Suddenly, the mixture in the bowl stilled. Flat like red tinted glass. Then it *moved* in rapid succession, shifting images dancing across its surface—trees, wind, broken ground—and then a shiver of motion. A woman stumbling through the woods, barefoot, her silver-blonde hair tangled and caked in blood.
Rowan stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “*Giselle.*”
But the image flickered, warped—and a *symbol* flared into view. One of the very same that had been burned into the trees. Only this one pulsed on the inside of a wooden door. A prison.
“She’s alive,” the witch said breathlessly. “But bound by an old sigil—designed to fracture her wolf from her mind. It’s not just a cage. It’s a tether. It’s feeding off of her.”
“Where is she?” Rowan asked sharply.
The witch’s voice strained. “I… can’t see. The trail stops at a barrier. Someone’s reinforcing it from the other side—keeping her hidden.”
Rowan’s pulse pounded. “Can you break it?”
The witch’s eyes fluttered as the power began to strain her. “I can weaken it. But only for a moment. You’ll have to follow it *now*, before it seals again.”
“Do it,” Rowan said.
The witch let out a low chant, her body trembling as she forced her will into the spell. The flames in the cabin burst once more into blinding blue light—and then the mixture surged up from the bowl and splashed across the floor, forming a glowing trail.
It led *back* through the forest.
Rowan turned to Kalen. “Gear up. We ride now.”
The witch collapsed to her knees, breath shallow.
Rowan paused, crouching beside her. “What do I owe you?”
She gave a shaky smile. “You already gave it. I saw your memory.”
He tensed.
“The last time you kissed her,” she said softly. “The fear in your eyes when you knew she was slipping away. That’s what I needed. That’s what called her back into the light.”
Rowan stood, the fire in his chest igniting anew.
“She’s not slipping away,” he said. “Not anymore.”
And with that, he turned, following the glowing trail into the dark, with Kalen at his side—and vengeance burning in his blood.
The forest closed in around them as Rowan and Kalen ran, the witch’s glowing trail weaving like a silver thread through the trees. Their wolves strained beneath their skin, aching to burst free and chase, to tear through whatever magic dared to hide *her*.
But Rowan held them back. Speed wouldn’t help if they missed something
The trail pulsed with light, reacting to his presence—almost like it recognized him. They followed in silence, every snapped branch and shifting leaf making Rowan’s instincts bristle. Something wasn’t right.
Not just magic. Something else. Watching.
And then they reached it.
The cliff.
The same goddamn clearing where it all began.
The light continued for another few steps… then dimmed. Faded. Vanished before their eyes like mist at sunrise.
Rowan froze at the edge, his boots scraping rock and earth. Ten feet below, waves crashed against jagged stone. No trail. No scent.
Nothing.
“No,” Rowan growled, scanning the horizon. “This can’t be it. This *can’t be it.*”
Kalen walked the perimeter, nostrils flared, voice grim. “Same place. Same trick. It’s like she was never here.”
Rowan dropped to a crouch, fingers clawing through dirt and gravel. “I *felt* her. The spell—she was close. She was here.”
“But now she’s not,” Kalen said. “They moved her again. Or she never left.”
Rowan stared at the spot where the glowing path had ended.
Cold rage coiled in his chest.
Someone was playing games—with him, with Giselle, with *all* of them.
And he was done playing.
“We’re going to find her,” he said, rising to his full height. “Even if I have to burn down every inch of this territory to do it.”
Kalen gave a grim nod. “Then we start with who’s trying so hard to keep her hidden.”
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