Chapter 4

Third Person POV

The forest grew darker as Seren pushed deeper into its heart. Moonlight barely penetrated the canopy here, where even wolves feared to tread. The trees were twisted, ancient things that seemed to lean away from a particular direction.

Toward the cottage at the center of the rot.

Morrigan's home wasn't like normal dwellings. It shifted and breathed, made of wood that was never quite dead and stones that hummed with old magic. Bones hung from the eaves—animal, mostly, though some were suspiciously humanoid.

Seren knocked three times.

The door opened on its own, revealing a room lit by floating orbs of sickly green light. Morrigan sat at a table covered in herbs, bones, and things that might have once been alive.

"Well, well." The witch's voice was like dry leaves scraping stone. "Seren Thornwood. I wondered when you'd come crawling back."

Seren stepped inside, trying not to breathe too deeply. The cottage smelled of decay and magic, a combination that made her wolf whimper with unease.

"I need your help."

"Obviously." Morrigan's face was ageless in the way that meant ancient—she could've been forty or four hundred. "Let me guess. Your daughter's awakening is coming up, and you're terrified she'll steal your mate."

"It's not stealing if he's her Fated Match."

"Ah, yes. That paranoia." Morrigan smiled, revealing teeth that were just slightly too sharp. "You came to me six years ago about this. Wanted me to curse her wedding. I refused, remember?"

"This is different. She's going to awaken." Seren's hands shook. "Once she does, she'll be able to sense Fated Mates. If Rowan is hers—"

"Then he was never really yours." Morrigan leaned back. "Tragic, really. But what do you want me to do about it?"

"Stop it. Stop her awakening."

"Permanently?"

"If that's what it takes."

The witch's eyes gleamed. "That kind of magic requires payment. Significant payment."

Seren reached into her bag and pulled out a stone that glowed with soft, silvery light. The moment it emerged, the temperature in the cottage dropped several degrees.

Morrigan inhaled sharply. "A moonstone. A real moonstone. Where did you—"

"It's been in the Thornwood family for generations. Protected in our sacred vault." Seren placed it on the table. "It's yours if you give me what I want."

"This is worth more than one little curse." Morrigan picked up the stone, examining it with covetous hunger. "Moonstones amplify wolf magic. They're rarer than Fated Mates themselves."

"Then you'll do it?"

"Oh, I'll do it. But I want to make sure you understand the consequences." Morrigan set the stone down carefully. "A curse this strong doesn't just seal her wolf. It kills it. Slowly. Her wolf will turn against her, eating her from the inside until there's nothing left but an empty shell. She'll die within a year, maybe less."

Seren's throat tightened. "And her daughter?"

"Children carry their parent's magic." Morrigan shrugged. "The curse will recognize the bloodline. The granddaughter will sicken too."

"How long would she have?"

"If we're lucky? A few months."

For a moment—just a moment—Seren felt something that might have been doubt. But then she thought of Rowan's face when he looked at Neve. The pride in his eyes. The love.

Love he'd never quite looked at her with, no matter how many years they'd been together.

"Do it," she said.

"You're sure? This is your daughter. Your granddaughter."

"I'm protecting my family." Seren's voice hardened. "If Neve awakens and steals Rowan, there won't be a family to protect anyway."

Morrigan laughed, cold and cruel. "You're a fascinating creature, Seren Thornwood. Most mothers would die for their children. You're willing to kill yours to keep a man who chose you without magic, without destiny, purely by his own free will. Isn't that enough?"

"It's never enough when you're waiting for someone better to come along."

"Fair enough." Morrigan pocketed the moonstone. "Let's begin."

She pulled out a bowl made of blackened bone and began adding ingredients. Nightshade. Wolfsbane. Hair that Seren had stolen from Neve's brush. Blood that Seren provided from her own palm.

The mixture bubbled and hissed, releasing smoke that formed shapes in the air—wolves running, falling, dissolving.

"When the moon reaches its peak tonight, your daughter will try to awaken." Morrigan stirred the mixture counterclockwise. "She'll feel her wolf rising. But it won't break free. Instead, it'll turn inward. Attacking. Consuming. She'll think it's just nerves, just fear. By the time she realizes something's wrong, it'll be too late."

"And no one will be able to trace it back to me?"

"Magic this old doesn't leave traces wolves can follow." Morrigan poured the mixture into a small vial. "All they'll see is a woman whose damaged wolf finally gave up."

She handed Seren the vial. "Pour this in water under moonlight and speak her full name three times. The curse will find her."

Seren took the vial with trembling hands. It was warm, almost alive.

"One more thing," Morrigan added. "Once cast, this curse can only be broken three ways. One, I die. Two, you willingly undo it. Three, your most sacred bond is severed."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll figure it out if it comes to that. But trust me, you won't let any of those things happen." Morrigan smiled. "After all, that would require you to care more about your daughter than your own security."

Seren left the cottage without another word.

That night, she stood in her garden under the full moon and poured the vial into her fountain. The liquid spread like oil, then vanished.

"Neve Thornwood," she whispered. "Neve Thornwood. Neve Thornwood."

The moon seemed to pulse. For a moment, everything went silent—no crickets, no wind, nothing.

Then something invisible ripped through the air, fast and hungry, racing toward its target.

Seren closed her eyes and told herself she'd done the right thing.

She told herself that all the way until morning, when news came that Neve's awakening had failed and her granddaughter had collapsed during the night.

She told herself even then, as her husband looked at her with dawning horror.

She'd done the right thing.

She had to believe that.

Because the alternative was too monstrous to face.