Page 9 of Wedded Witch

The moonlight bathes the grounds in silver, casting long shadows that dance in the breeze. It’s eerily quiet.

I slip through the gardens, keeping to the shadows, my heart a resonant beat I can taste. Every rustle, every distant cry of a night bird sends my nerves on edge, but I press on. The bag slung over my shoulder is heavy with everything I thought I’d need, though I know it’s probably not enough. What does one take with them on a curse-breaking escapade?

Reaching the edge of the estate, I pause to look back. The manor looms in the distance, a dark silhouette against the endless sky. I can’t help but wonder if Oland’s there, if he’s sensed my absence already.

For a moment, I imagine him standing at the window, watching me leave, his silver eyes glowing with that strange mix of coldness and warmth. The image my mind conjures sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to force myself to turn away.

There’s no time for second thoughts. No time to wonder what could have been. I need to focus on what lies ahead – Spells Hollow, the curse, and whatever trials wait for me there. Gramps’ voice echoes in my mind, urging me on, reminding me of the stakes.

The path ahead is dark, but it’s mine. For the first time in a long time, I’m making a choice for myself. I’m running, yes, but I’m running towardssomething, not away from it.

I only hope that when the time comes, I’ll have the strength to face whatever awaits me.

With one last glance at the manor, I turn my back on the life I’ve known and step into the unknown. The night swallows me whole, and I disappear into the darkness, my fate my own once more.

OLAND

I slept too deeplyand woke up with a jolt. For a moment, I don’t remember where I am, then it all comes rushing back.The manor, the wedding, last night.

I groan, thinking of Swyn.

Pain lances through my chest and I sit bolt upright in bed.

Swyn is gone.

Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. There’s a hollowness in my heart, a space that only she can fill, and the tingles racing down my spine tell me I’m right.

My wife has gone.

The bond that snapped into place yesterday, strong and unbreakable, feels frayed, stretched thin like a taut rope about to snap.

I throw off the covers, my mind already racing through the possibilities. Was she taken? No – if she had been, I’d have felt the violence, the tear in the bond. This feels different. Quieter. But no less alarming.

She left. On her own.

The realisation hits me with a fresh wave of pain, and I curse under my breath. Why would she run? After everything we went through yesterday, after that kiss…it doesn’t make sense. But then again, nothing about this marriage has made sense.

Fate works in twisted ways, but I thought – I hoped – we were at least on the same page.

Clearly, I was wrong.

I pull on my clothes with a speed that belies the calm I’m trying to force on myself. My mind races, jumping between anger and worry. How far could she have gotten?

The manor is vast, but there are guards, wards, and spells in place. Someone must have seen her leave. Unless she’s been planning this all along…

No. I refuse to believe that.

I stride out of the bedroom and into the hall, the cold stone floors doing nothing to cool the heat simmering beneath my skin. My steps echo through the quiet corridors, the manor eerily still in the early morning light.

“Swyn!” I call out, though I know it’s useless. My voice reverberates off the walls, but there’s no answer. Just the hollow echo, mocking me.

I search the rooms nearest to ours first, hoping against all odds that I’m wrong. Maybe she’s just wandering the halls, unable to sleep like me, trying to make sense of everything. Maybe she’s in the library, or the gardens. Anywhere but gone.

But each empty room I enter confirms what I already know deep down. She’s left the manor. The bond between us is stretched too thin, the connection wavering at the edges, like a thread unravelling. If she gets too far, I won’t be able to track her through it. And then…

I force the thought away, focusing on the task at hand.

“Have you seen Swyn?” I demand of the first staff member I come across, a young girl carrying a basket of linens. She looksstartled, eyes wide with fear or surprise, I can’t tell which. “The bride?”

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