Page 41 of Alpha's Heir

My limbs felt like lead, every movement an agony, but I pushed on. The Guardian, battling his own horde of enemies, roared in defiance, a sound that shook the very earth beneath us.

I managed to break free from the pile, my body aching and bleeding. But there was no time to catch my breath, no time to assess my wounds. I lunged forward, my eyes fixed on the altar, on Cora.

I had to reach her. I had to stop Preston. Failure was not an option. The clearing was a maelstrom of violence and terror, but my path was clear. I would save Cora, or die trying.

Chapter twenty-one

Cora

Theknifepressedcoldand sharp against my throat, its edge a promise of pain and darkness. Preston's eyes burned with a manic intensity, his grip unyielding. I could barely breathe, each shuddering inhale laced with terror.

But then, in a blur of motion, someone crashed into Preston, knocking him off the platform. It was Winnifred. Her face was set in a grimace of determination, but her hands... they were trembling, flickering in and out of solidity. The sight sent a chill down my spine. She was fighting the dark magic, struggling to remain herself.

"Winnie, hurry!" I gasped, feeling the ropes binding me loosen. Her efforts were heroic, yet I could see the toll it was taking on her. Her form wavered like a shadow in the wind, the Unseen Pack's curse clawing at her very essence.

She was so close to freeing me, her fingers working frantically at the last knot, when suddenly Preston reappeared. With a savage growl, he lunged at Winnifred, sending her tumbling into the chaotic melee below.

I screamed, a sound of frustration and fear, as Preston turned his attention back to me. His face twisted into a snarl of rage. "This ends now. Now... I win." His words were a venomous hiss, filled with malice and triumph.

He raised the knife, its blade glinting ominously in the eerie light of the clearing. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic drumbeat of desperation. I couldn't let this be the end. Not like this. Not with so much at stake.

Panic surged within me, a tidal wave of fear and determination. I struggled against the ropes, but it was useless. The binding was too tight, the situation too dire. Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the descending knife, at my impending doom.

But even in that moment of absolute despair, a part of me refused to give up. I thought of Weston, of our child, of everything we had fought for. I couldn't let Preston win. I wouldn't.

As the knife descended, a final, desperate plan formed in my mind. If I could just move, just a little, it might be enough. With every ounce of strength I had left, I twisted my body, turning away from the lethal blade.

Preston's angry snarl filled my ears as the knife came down. My heart raced, time seemed to slow. This was it. The moment of truth. And as the blade neared, I closed my eyes, bracing for the impact that would decide my fate.

The roar that tore through the clearing was primal, a sound that resonated with the very essence of the forest. It vibrated in my bones, an overwhelming force that sent everyone sprawling to the ground – everyone except me, bound as I was, standing helpless on the altar.

I lifted my head, squinting through tears and fear, and there he was. The Guardian. A majestic, almost ethereal presence in the midst of chaos, glowing with an inner light that pulsed like the heartbeat of the forest itself. He was a force of nature, a protector whose very existence was intertwined with the ancient magic around us.

Preston, who moments ago had been the epitome of confidence and cruelty, now looked shaken, fear creeping into his eyes as he faced the Guardian. The transformation in his demeanor was stark – from a predator to a cornered animal, unsure and afraid.

The Guardian's gaze locked onto Preston, and his voice boomed across the clearing. “You were given a second chance, Preston. The magic of this forest granted you redemption, and you chose to abuse it, to disturb the balance of magic and nature.”

Preston tried to argue, his voice a desperate croak in the face of the Guardian's overwhelming power. “No, you don’t understand. I... I was only trying to—”

But the Guardian roared again, a sound that silenced Preston and echoed ominously through the trees. The sound was a stark reminder of the power that the Guardian wielded, a power that could not be trifled with.

Slowly, with a grace that belied his imposing form, the Guardian began to walk toward where Preston and I stood. His every step seemed to make the earth itself tremble, a testament to his connection with the ancient forest.

As he approached, I could feel the air crackling with energy, a palpable tension that made my skin tingle. I was acutely aware of my own vulnerability, tied up and exposed, but strangely, as the Guardian drew nearer, a sense of calm began to wash over me.

Preston, on the other hand, seemed to shrink with every step the Guardian took. The man who had appeared so formidable and unassailable was now visibly unraveling under the weight of the Guardian's judgment.

The Guardian's eyes, glowing with an otherworldly light, were fixed on Preston, but I felt his awareness of me too. There was a connection there, unspoken yet powerful, and it gave me a sliver of hope in this dire moment.

And then, the Guardian stopped, standing just a few feet away from us. The air hummed with the raw power of the ancient forest, a force that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. In that moment, everything else faded into insignificance – the battle, the pain, the fear – leaving only the Guardian, Preston, and me in a bubble of heightened reality.

The clearing was eerily silent, the chaos of the battle momentarily forgotten. All eyes were on the Guardian, a being of myth and legend, now standing as the arbiter of our fates.

The moment the Guardian's hand reached out and seized Preston, time seemed to slow. His fingers closed around Preston's throat with an ease that belied the overwhelming strength behind them. There was a finality in his grip, a closure to the reign of terror that Preston had inflicted upon us all.

Preston's eyes widened in terror, a mirror to the fear he had instilled in others. He struggled, but it was futile against the Guardian's might. With a swift, decisive motion, the Guardian ended Preston's life. It was done quietly, without fanfare, but the impact was immediate and profound.

The forest itself seemed to respond to Preston's demise. A deep, resonant thrum filled the air, vibrating through the ground and into my very bones. It was as if the forest itself was exhaling, releasing the tension and darkness that had suffocated it for so long.

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