Page 57 of Love At First Roar
The pulse quickened, the crack in the altar leaking thicker red light. Images flared—visions of chains, of Callum’s body sprawled lifeless, of Hollow Oak burned to ash. She clenched her jaw, breathing through the terror.
“You think to bargain?” Elric whispered. “You have nothing I want except yourself, and you have already promised that.”
She opened the vial of ash, sprinkling the dust across the glowing runes. They hissed, light flaring then sputtering. Pain sparked behind her eyes, but she pressed on, chanting grounding words, weaving her own light through the cracks.
For a heartbeat, gold overwhelmed red. The pulse faltered.
Then a blade of agony lanced through her palm—an invisible cut reopening old scar tissue. Blood welled, bright and traitorous, dripping onto the altar. The runes flared brighter, greedier.
Cora screamed, stumbling but refusing to fall. She threw the hawthorn sprig into the crack. Light exploded, crimson battling gold in a storm of sparks.
Somewhere behind her, a branch snapped—a heavy footfall. She spun, heart dropping.
Not Callum. Not yet. A shadow moved at the tree line, watching.
Her pulse thundered. She had to finish this before he arrived. Before anyone else suffered for her mistakes.
She raised her bleeding palm, letting blood drip in a circle at her feet. The grounding charm throbbed warm against her wrist. She poured every ounce of magic she had into the circle, into the words, into the silent plea that the forest hear her and help her sever the chain.
Gold light blazed up like sunrise. The altar shrieked, the crack widening, red weakening.
Elric’s voice howled in her mind. “You belong to me.”
“No.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, salt on her lips. “I belong to myself.”
The circle flared brighter, and for one breathless moment she felt the chain snap. Relief punched through her chest—then everything went black.
She didn’t feel her body hit the ground. Didn’t hear the frantic roar echoing through the glade moments later. Only the quiet certainty that she’d done it.
For Callum. For Hollow Oak. And for herself.
Then nothing at all.
30
CALLUM
The cabin felt too quiet.
Callum’s eyes snapped open, senses flaring. The fire on the hearth had died to a faint orange glow, and dawn slanted pale light across rumpled blankets. His first instinct was reach, gather, protect. His hand met empty linens still warm with her heat.
“Cora?”
No answer.
He sat up, vision blurring for half a heartbeat from the crack Elric’s magic had put in his skull. Pain meant he was alive. Pain meant he had slept too long. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, muscles screaming protest, and saw the folded parchment on the pillow.
He knew before he touched it.
Callum,
I have to end this before Hollow Oak breaks. I need to face him alone. You cannot shoulder my curse any longer. Please forgive me for leaving while you slept.
You mean more to me then anyone ever has. Thank you for showing me what it’s like to be truly accepted.
Cora.
The words blurred as rage and fear crashed together in his chest. He stood, the note crumpling in his fist. She thought walking away would save them. She thought facing a blood-bound monster alone meant safety. For him, for the town.
