Page 78 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
I nod and stare into the fire again, thinking about the curse.
Tomorrow we hunt a witch. And this time, I won’t fail my savryl.
CHAPTER 52
THALRIC
The cursed forest is completely silent. No birds. No wind. No life. Only the endless whisper of skeletal branches scraping against one another. The trees here are wrong—bent and blackened, their bark slick as oil. A sickly green mist curls between their roots, clinging to the ground like smoke.
Even Ryllen, usually calm and composed, appears apprehensive. “It feels like we’ve stepped into another world,” he murmurs.
“We have,” I reply, scanning the shadows. “This land has been poisoned by the witch’s magic.”
The deeper we go, the thicker the air becomes. It smells of rot and iron. Magic hums in the soil—a low, vibrating pulse that makes the hair rise on the back of my neck.
A flicker of movement ahead draws my attention, and I stop dead in my tracks. Ryllen goes still beside me.
Squinting, I peer through the thick fog. My blood runs cold as a familiar shape comes into view.
It’s Aurora.
She’s standing between the trees, her long hair drifting weightlessly around her as if she’s underwater. Her dress billows in an invisible breeze, her bare feet hovering an inch above the earth. Pale light glows from her skin in a sinister green hue.
My breath catches. “Auri?”
But when I blink, she’s gone.
“Did you see that?” Ryllen’s voice is sharp. “Please, tell me you saw her too.”
I nod, my chest tight. “It wasn’t her though.”
“I agree.” He grips the hilt of his sword as he scans the surrounding area. “It was an illusion. The witch must know we’re here.”
“Then, she knows death has come for her,” I snarl as we continue through the dark woods.
The path twists, the forest warping around us like melted glass. Faces appear in the mist—mocking, whispering, gone before I can focus.
Ryllen mutters a curse. “She’s trying to drive us mad.”
“She won’t succeed.” I extend my claws. “Stay close.”
The mist shifts again, and suddenly the world shatters into light. I stagger backward, shielding my eyes. When I lower my hand, the forest is gone.
We stand in a grand ballroom of gold and crystal, sunlight pouring through stained glass. Light flares, and suddenly Aurora is dancing before me, laughter echoing through a sun-lit hall.
For one aching heartbeat I almost believe it’s real, then the vision ripples and fades, leaving only rot and shadow.
Ryllen’s voice breaks through the illusion. “Thalric, she’s not real.”
I grit my fangs. “I know.” But gods, she looks just as I remember from that night at the harvest festival in Oakvale.
My heart clenches. It seems like forever ago now.
Closing my eyes, I ball my hands into fists at my sides, my claws digging into my palms until the pain sears away the vision of my beloved. When I open them again, the forest returns—dark and rotting and real.
“Enough of this,” I snarl into the shadows, my tail lashing behind me. “Show yourself, witch!”
A faint rustling sound echoes in the woods.
