Page 12 of His Spellbound Mate

It was a risky move. The archives were located in the heart of Silver Ridge, in the basement of the town hall, and they were usually off-limits to anyone without special permission. But Tamzyn knew that the answers she sought had to be buried there, hidden in the old records and forgotten lore of the town’s history.

She couldn’t afford to wait any longer. The threat was greater than she had imagined, and time was running out. If the prophecy was true, if she was meant to face this darkness, then she needed to know everything there was to know about it.

Gathering her strength, Tamzyn began the long walk back to town. The night was quiet again, the shadows retreating into the darkness to lick their wounds, but she knew they would be back. The battle was far from over.

Chapter Seven

Tamzyn

The town hall was dark and silent when Tamzyn arrived; the streets deserted in the early hours of the morning. The building loomed before her, its windows dark and unwelcoming, but she didn’t hesitate. She had come too far to turn back now.

Tamzyn approached the side entrance, her heart pounding in her chest as she reached for the handle. The door was locked, as she had expected, but a simple spell was all it took to unlock it. She had been surprised to find remnants of old spells protecting the building, but they were no match for her magic, and she slipped inside without making a sound or triggering an alarm.

The air inside the town hall was stale and musty, the scent of old paper and dust hanging heavy in the air. Tamzyn made her way through the darkened corridors, her footsteps echoing softly in the silence. She knew where she was going; she had memorized the layout of the building during her time in Silver Ridge, just in case she ever needed to access the archives. One of the elders in her old coven had stressed that being prepared was a key component to any magic.

The stairway to the basement was at the end of the hall, tucked away behind a set of heavy oak doors. Tamzyn reached for the handle, her fingers brushing against the cool metal. She paused for a moment, steeling herself for what she might find on the other side, then pushed the door open.

The stairs creaked under her weight as she descended into the darkness, the faint light from the hallway above fading into shadows. The basement was colder than the rest of the building, the air damp and tinged with the scent of mildew. Tamzyn shivered, but she pressed on, her resolve unshaken.

The archives were located in a large, windowless room at the far end of the basement. Rows of old filing cabinets lined the walls, their drawers stuffed with yellowing papers and brittle documents. A single, flickering lightbulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dim, eerie glow over the room.

Tamzyn moved quickly, her eyes scanning the labels on the cabinets as she searched for anything that might be related to the prophecy or the dark magic that had taken root in Silver Ridge. The records were old, some of them dating back to the town’s founding, and there was no telling how much of the information was accurate.

But she had to try.

She pulled open the first drawer and began sifting through the papers, her fingers brushing against the rough texture of the parchment. Most of the documents were mundane—records of land ownership, old tax records, town meeting minutes—but she pushed on, searching for anything that might hold a clue.

Hours passed as she worked, the pile of discarded papers growing at her feet. Frustration gnawed at her, but she refused to give up. There had to be something here, something that would explain the connection between the prophecy and the dark forces she was fighting.

Finally, just as she was about to give up hope, she found it.

Tucked away in the back of one of the drawers was an old, leather-bound journal, its pages worn and brittle with age. The cover was unmarked, but as soon as Tamzyn opened it, she knew she had found what she was looking for.

The journal belonged to one of the town’s founders, a man named Elias Harding, who had settled in Silver Ridge with his family over a century ago. The entries were written in a neat, precise hand, detailing the early days of the town’s development and the challenges they had faced.

But it was the later entries that caught Tamzyn’s attention. They spoke of strange occurrences in the woods, of dark figures seen in the shadows, and of a powerful magic that had taken root in the land. Elias had written of his growing concern for the safety of the town, of his belief that something ancient and malevolent had been awakened.

The final entries were the most troubling. Elias wrote of a prophecy, one that had been passed down through his family for generations. It spoke of a great darkness that would surround the descendants and their home Silver Ridge, a darkness that could only be stopped by a witch of great power. A witch who was aligned with the wolf. It hadn’t specified what wolf or even what kind, but Tamzen knew it had to be the alpha of the Silver Ridge Pack of wolf-shifters. The prophecy was vague, but it was clear that Elias had believed it was connected to the events unfolding in the town.

As Tamzyn read the final lines, a chill ran down her spine. The prophecy was real, and she was a part of it. The dark magic in the woods, the shadow creatures that had attacked her, everything was tied to this ancient curse.

She closed the journal, her mind racing. She had the information she needed, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to know more, to understand the full extent of the threat she was facing. And to do that, she would have to delve deeper into the history of Silver Ridge, to uncover the secrets that had been buried for so long.

But as she prepared to leave the archives, a sudden sense of foreboding washed over her. She wasn’t alone.

Tamzyn’s heart pounded as she sensed the presence of another person in the basement. She turned slowly, her hand instinctively reaching for the protective herbs she had tucked into her pocket. The shadows in the room seemed to shift, and for a moment, she thought she saw a figure standing in the doorway.

But when she blinked, the figure was gone, and the room was empty once more.

Shaking off the unsettling sensation, Tamzyn gathered the journal and slipped it into her bag. She had what she came for, and now she needed to get out of here before she was discovered. She made her way back up the stairs, her footsteps careful and deliberate.

As she reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the hallway, she took one last look back at the basement. The door stood ajar, the darkness within seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

Tamzyn turned away. She had a prophecy to fulfill and a darkness to face, and she was going to need all the strength she could muster to do it.

Neville

The night air was crisp and cold, the scent of pine and earth sharp in Neville’s nose as he moved silently through the dense underbrush. He needed to talk to Tamzyn, to find out what she knew. But how could he approach her without scaring her off? He was an alpha, a predator, and she was a witch—one with her own secrets.

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