Page 38 of Tangle of Lust and Lethargy

As he wheeled toward me, transforming into a juggernaut of fury, I saw the full extent of what this spell had done. It had twisted his essence. In all his battered and bloody glory, the Unseelie king was a force of pure, unrestrained rage.

His pained movements carried a frightening intensity. Each step seemed to vibrate with barely contained violence. Despite his injuries, despite the toll the battle had taken, Garrick was far from defeated. If anything, the pain seemed to fuel his fury, making him all the more dangerous as he advanced.

Time seemed to slow. I saw Justice turning, his face contorting in horror. Maggie’s outstretched hand, too far to reach me. I stood my ground, feet planted in the blood-soaked earth, refusing to yield.

Garrick slammed into me with the force of a freight train. The impact knocked the air from my lungs in a painful rush as we hit the ground. Mud squelched beneath us, the metallic tang of blood filling my nostrils.

His face loomed over mine, twisted into an unrecognizable mask. “You’re not the leader anymore, Sawyer,” he snarled, his words dripping with venom. “It’s mine.”

Terror clawed at my insides, but beneath it, a core of steely determination held firm. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I thrust the Mirror of Aethereal between us.

The effect was instantaneous. Garrick recoiled as if he’d struck an invisible barrier, his momentum halting abruptly. He skidded back, eyes wide with shock and confusion.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned as I lay there gasping. Garrick remained frozen, the malevolent gleam in his eyes flickering like a candle in the wind.

In that moment, suspended between chaos and hope, I silently prayed this would be enough. Somehow, this ancient artifact could break through the darkness that had consumed my friend and bring him back to us.

The mirror’s surface glimmered faintly, its power rippling like an invisible tide. Garrick froze, his body rigid. For what felt like an eternity, neither of us moved.

Then, almost imperceptibly, something in Garrick’s eyes shifted. The burning hatred flickered like a flame struggling against a strong wind. His brow furrowed, confusion replacing rage.

“S-Sawyer?” My name left his lips as a question.

He blinked rapidly as if trying to clear his vision. He shook his head, sending droplets of mud and blood flying. Some of it spattered my face, but I didn’t dare move to wipe it away. I held my breath, watching as awareness crept back into his features.

His grip on my shoulders loosened, fingers uncurling one by one. The weight of his body, which had felt like it might crush me moments ago, lifted. He pushed himself up, his movements sluggish and uncertain, like someone waking from a deep slumber.

“What…what’s happening?” he murmured. He looked down at me, then at his own hands as if seeing them for the first time. “Why are we…”

I remained still, clutching the mirror as I watched Garrick’s transformation, hope and fear warring within me.

Garrick continued to retreat, his movements unsteady. He swayed as he got to his feet, reminding me of Maggie’s disorientation earlier. His eyes, no longer clouded by thatterrible mixture of hate and lust, darted around the battlefield, growing wider with each passing second.

“Oh, gods,” he whispered, horror dawning on his face as the reality of what had transpired sank in. “What have I done?”

I slowly pushed myself up, wincing at the ache from the impact. The mirror remained steady in my hands, its surface calm and clear. We were far from out of danger. Justice was still under the spell, and who knew what other threats lurked in the shadows.

My hand trembled as I clasped Garrick’s shoulder. “You were under a spell,” I told him.

Garrick’s gaze darted to the shadowy forest. A flicker of recognition passed over his face, followed by a grimace. “I can see them. Lust demons?”

I squinted into the darkness, seeing nothing but knowing the threat lurked beyond my sight. “Yes.” I turned back to Garrick with a furrowed brow. “How did you know?”

He swallowed hard, shame and disgust warring on his features. “Because I was lusting for power and dominance over our team.” He spat the words out like they tasted foul. “It’s foolish, nonsensical. I’m the king of the Unseelie, yet somehow, being leader of our team felt more important. More consuming.”

The raw vulnerability in his admission made my chest tighten. Before I could respond, a blur of motion caught my eye.

“Garrick!” Maggie’s voice rang out, filled with desperate joy. She rushed toward us, her injuries forgotten in her haste.

Garrick’s face transformed, relief and love washing away the remnants of shame. He caught Maggie in his arms, spinning her around despite their battered states. The action spoke volumes. A reaffirmation of life, of connection, in the face of the horror we’d endured.

As he set her down, Garrick cupped Maggie’s face in his hands, his touch gentle. “You’re well?” The question came out rough with emotion. “Did I hurt you?”

Maggie leaned into his touch, her eyes glistening. “We hurt each other,” she admitted softly. Then, with fierce determination, she added, “I love you.”

Garrick’s response was immediate, his words a fervent vow. “You’re mine,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “No one will tear us apart again.”

The intensity of their reunion made me look away, feeling like an intruder. Yet underneath the relief, a nagging worry persisted. I’d broken the spell’s hold on Garrick and Maggie.

---