Page 77 of Tethered In Blood

Oberon nodded.

A chill coasted my spine. “Then what was the point?”

His expression darkened. “To send a message.”

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. “To whom?”

Oberon’s gaze drifted past me toward the window, where the moon was nothing more than a sliver against the inky sky. “You,” he murmured.

My stomach twisted. I shook my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would—”

“Because it’s not the first time,” he cut in, standing from the chair. He loomed closer now, broad shoulders casting a shadow over the table.

My breath caught. “What are you talking about?”

“The creature in Silverfel,” he said. “It went for you. It could’ve targeted anyone, but it didn’t. And now this.” His unwavering eyes searched mine. “This magic—it wasn’t an attack. It was a spectacle. A warning. And it was meant foryou.”

The words sat heavy between us, thick with implication. I took a step back. Oberon’s gaze flicked over me, catching the movement. His expression darkened.

I hated he saw it, that my body betrayed me. But more than the lingering adrenaline and the unease clawing its way up my throat, one thought pushed its way to the front of my mind. It was so stark and sudden that it made my stomach drop.

Why me?

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t,” I stammered, my voice quieter than intended. “I don’t understand. Why me?”

Oberon sighed again and dragged his hand down his face. His silver eyes flicked up to meet mine. I felt exposed under that gaze. He had been dissecting every inch of me, peeling back my layers in a way that made my pulse quicken for different reasons than fear.

“You’re an herbalist,” he said at last.

I blinked. “So?”

His fist clenched. “So, herbalists handle matters that others overlook: curses, poisons, remedies, and wards. Perhaps someone doesn’t want you to look too closely at what’s happening here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to protest, but the words died in my throat. He was right. I had been asking too many questions, pushing too hard, digging too deep, and someone, or something, wanted me to stop. My fingers curled into my arms.

Oberon leaned forward, close enough to see the subtle glow in his irises, the faint pulse of something other beneath his skin. “You don’t have to understand it yet,” he said. “But you need to start accepting that this—” he gestured between us, to the journal, to the remnants of that damned ritual still lingering in the air “—isn’t a coincidence.”

23

Oberon

Quinncurledinonherself, and her arms tightened over her ribs. She processed and pieced things together just as I did. Quinn didn’t let fear dictate her thoughts. She was logical, methodical, and stubborn as sin. If she was shaken, it meant she knew I was right.

The chair creaked beneath my weight when I sat down again. My thoughts churned as I worked through the connections, staring at the sigils in her notes. They still gnawed at me, just out of reach. The mist. How the thing in the field had dissolved, vanishing as if it had never been there. It hadn’t just disappeared. It had turned to mist, dissipating into the fog that clung to this cursed land, a sickness.

Something that shouldn’t have been able to cross over from the Veil. Something summoned… a tether.

My gaze flicked back to the journal, reopening it to the scrawled markings of the sigils we had uncovered. Sigils represented intent and purpose, serving as protection or binding, but something had corrupted them. Turned them into the bones, and the thing buried beneath the dirt. I flexed my fingers as I leaned forward. That was the connection. The thing in the field wasn’t just a cursed beast; it was connected to what was buried, drawn to it, and feeding off it. Which meant the body was the anchor.

If this thing was from the Veil, it couldn’t exist without being held here. That’s why the creature hadn’t fully manifested and had dissolved instead of dying. It wasn’t just being summoned. It was being sustained.

The sigils didn’t protect against the entity of the field. They kept whatever was buried bound to this place. A slow, sick feeling churned within me. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

Quinn glanced at me. “What?”

I met her gaze, feeling its weight settle in my chest. “That thing isn’t just a curse. It’s a manifestation, and that means it has rules. Something made it and is keeping it here.” I tapped the sketch of the sigils. “And I think it’s that body we dug up.”

Her brows pulled together. “You think it’s tied to it?”

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