Page 110 of Moonlit Fate

In a sudden burst of energy accompanied by a resounding crack, the clearing transformed into a blinding white expanse. The clash of thunder and lightning merged into a single force as the forked tongue of light descended through the forest’s canopy, hitting the ground with a deafening impact, right where Atticus and Mia had been moments before.

Ilaric said nothing, but the fear on his face mirrored my own. In silence, we shifted and scurried back to Silver Claw territory.

28

ATTICUS

Branches brushed my skin as I walked through the dense woods. Mia strolled beside me, her eyes darting towards me every few seconds. I knew why she’d dragged me out here—the den’s suffocating silence was like a prison.

“Fresh air will do you good,” Mia, ever the mother figure, had insisted earlier as she pushed out of the den.

I wasn’t blind to her worry, to the concern of any of those I called my family, but all I could think about was Aria, the way her hair caught the sunlight, the sound of her laugh. Seeing her earlier had brought up conflicting feelings. I was relieved that she was well, but the sight of her was a painful reminder of the raw ache in my heart.

Mia’s concerned voice drew me out of my thoughts of Aria.

“You’re not eating,” she saw. “You avoid sleeping.”

I tried to keep my tone light. “Sleep’s overrated.”

She frowned at me, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t lie to me. I can see the dark circles under your eyes, the way you flinch when you doze off.”

I was avoiding sleep because every time I closed my eyes, the nightmares came. Each one felt so real, and I had to claw my wayback to consciousness. It left me shivering, a cold sweat clinging to my skin as I fought to regain control.

The silence between us was abruptly shattered by a resounding crack of thunder. Seconds later, heavy rain poured down. We ran to the den, the intermittent flashes of lightning illuminating the dark sky and casting an eerie glow that increased our urgency.

When we reached the entrance to the cave, cleverly hidden by a wall of vegetation, we were completely drenched, our clothes plastered to our skin. As I was about to pull back the curtain and seek refuge in the dry cave, Mia suddenly gripped my arm.

“Atticus,” she said, searching my face. “I’ve made a draught for you. It should give you a dreamless sleep. If you want, I’ll fetch it for you when we go inside, so you can get some rest.”

“Thanks,” I murmured. “I’d really appreciate it.” Anything to put an end to the relentless nightmares.

As we entered the cave, Joren’s laughter echoed off the stone walls. Lyza and Hale were there too, their smiles a bit too bright. Mia slipped away while I exchanged a few words with them, but their words were a bit too cheery as they carefully navigated the conversation, avoiding any subjects they thought might cause me distress. When she returned, she cradled a cup filled with a fragrant, steaming liquid.

She handed it to me. “Drink up.”

It smelled of herbs and something sweet. Without hesitation, I knocked it back. Warmth spread through my chest, and my eyelids grew heavy.

“Go sleep,” Mia whispered as I stumbled toward my den, the world already blurring at the edges.

I barely hit the furs before sleep took me. In the void, fragments of memories began to surface, hidden moments that had been locked away for years.

When I woke up, the darkness didn’t lift. It pressed in on me, thick and heavy. I reached out, my hands finding nothing but cold air. A whimper escaped my lips before I could swallow it down.

“Mom? Dad?” I sounded small, young to my own ears.

There was shuffling, then the muted sound of worried whispers. Footsteps approached, slow and hesitant, as if they were walking through molasses rather than air. The depths of the preternatural darkness engulfed me, and though I could hear familiar voices calling for me, their distant echoes only added to my fear.

Then a clear shout, closer now, penetrating the nothingness. A panicked voice rang out, desperately calling, “Atticus. Come on, baby. Where are you?”

“I’m here. Who is it, who’s there?” I shouted, tears streaming down my face.

A warm, familiar hand finally found mine. Most of the darkness receded, revealing my room, my toys scattered on the floor, and the moon peeking through the window blinds.

“There you are,” the kind, feminine voice murmured. Darkness still shrouded her form.

My father stood in the doorway, his silhouette rigid. “This isn’t normal,” he said.

“He’s just afraid of the dark,” the woman said, though she was nowhere to be seen.

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