Page 28 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

With a determined breath, I hit call, preparing to lure him in.

“Rurik,” I growl when the line connects, each syllable filled with intensity. “I’m here. Come and face me.”

Silence stretches, thick with tension. I can almost feel his presence lurking beyond the walls of the castle. “You’ve been hiding for too long,” I add, my voice a low challenge. “I’m offering you a chance to finish this.”

His chilling laughter echoes in my ear, the sound twisting my gut. “You think you can draw me out? How quaint.”

“Meet me at The Keep.”

Shadows of Frostspire

BRIAR

The bundle of dried herbs crackles in my hands as I weave them into a protective charm. Each twist of the stems feels instinctive now, as if the magic coursing through the room is guiding my fingers.

Giselle watches nearby, an approving smile gracing her features as she nods with satisfaction once I tie off the last knot.

"Your instincts are good," she says, her voice warm and encouraging as she adds the charm to a growing pile on the table. "The magic responds naturally to your touch."

"I never thought I'd be doing this," I admit. "A few weeks ago, I didn't even believe in magic."

Alistair appears in the doorway, his arms full of fresh herbs from the greenhouse. "And now you're weaving protection spells like you were born to it." He sets his burden on the table. "The castle chose well when it called you here."

A warm pulse of energy ripples through the room, as if the castle itself is agreeing.

I look around the room as we work together to fill sashes with herbs, cords, and half-finished charms gathered to fortify Frostspire Keep against the impending threat. The atmosphereis charged with purpose, each item we handle imbued with our collective drive to end the curse.

Ronan made the call to Rurik. His words echo in my mind…He’s coming, and we need to prepare.

This fight is no longer an abstract concern; it’s a vivid looming challenge demanding my full attention.

Reaching for another bundle, I let my fingers trace the rough stems—mint, thyme, and lavender this time. The familiar scents fill the air, mingling with the deeper, more ancient aroma of the castle's magic, growing stronger by the hour. It envelops me, a comforting presence, urging me onward. I can almost feel Ember’s energy interwoven with the herbs, an ancient pulse guiding my actions and decisions.

Giselle stands at my side, deftly arranging the charms we’ve created together. "Remember, Briar," she continues, her focus unwavering as she leads me in this intricate dance of magic and intention. "Each charm carries a part of your essence. It’s not just about the ingredients. It’s the heart you put into it that determines its power."

"How'd you learn so much?" I ask, genuinely curious as I watch Giselle expertly tie the last charm.

Giselle pauses, her hands steadying as she looks over at me with a glimmer in her eye. "It wasn’t easy. When the curse first took hold of Frostspire Keep, the magic here was unstable. I spent years learning from the remnants of what once was, piecing together knowledge from ancient tomes and the whispers of the castle itself. I had to adapt quickly, or risk losing everything."

Her words resonate within me, igniting a flicker of curiosity. The way she describes her journey mirrors my own experiences, yet it feels like a distant echo—a past I wish to understand more deeply.

"What was it like?" I ask, drawn into her story. "Living here as the magic faded? Did you ever lose hope?"

Giselle smiles softly, her gaze drifting as if she's seeing the echoes of her memories. "At times, yes. But I always felt an underlying energy, a bond with the castle that kept me going. It was as if Frostspire itself was calling for help, urging me to keep trying, to fight back against the darkness. The energy pulsed in the walls, even when it dimmed. I learned to listen—to feel the rhythm of the castle's heart, and that gave me strength."

As I absorb her words, another thought flickers in my mind—a conversation I had with Ember in the library. The memory rushes back to me, vivid and clear, and I can’t help but share it.

"I spoke with Ember once," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, as if voicing this truth out loud makes it more real. "In the library, when I was investigating the magic and history of the Keep. It felt surreal… almost like she was guiding me."

Giselle leans closer, intrigued. "What did she tell you?"

I take a breath, grounding myself in the memory. “She revealed that I’m not fully human. I… I’m a hybrid. An arcanist. It’s strange to say it out loud, but it feels true.” The revelation hangs in the air, heavy with implications.

Giselle's eyes widen, then soften with understanding. "That makes sense. Arcanists possess a unique connection to the fabric of magic that flows through our worlds. Your lineage might be why you feel the castle's presence more than others."

"I felt this surge of energy when I learned it," I explain. "A part of me clicked into place. The magic here, the history—it all resonates with who I am. But I can’t help but wonder how it all intertwines with my search for my birth mother. If I’m an arcanist, does that mean she was too? Could understanding my powers help me uncover more about her?"

Giselle nods thoughtfully, her expression both encouraging and contemplative. "If you dig deeper into your abilities, youmay just find the answers you seek. But remember, knowledge isn't just about the facts. It's also about understanding who you are within that knowledge."

---