Page 46 of Tethered In Blood

My eyes widened. Beside me, Oberon muttered a curse under his breath, muffled by the roar of my pulse. My hands clenched into fists to steady myself against the ache in my palm, but the air had grown heavier. A pair of hollow eyes blinked from the tree’s hollowed trunk.

Not human… Not animal… Something ancient. Hungry.

A twisted figure, its limbs overly long, its movements disconcerting in a way my mind couldn’t reconcile. The elongated, sinewy frame dragged itself from the tree’s hollow, and its mouth pulled back into a grotesque, knowing grin that ignited every nerve in my body with dread. The bones from the tree rattled with its movements, clicking together in a manner that resembled a summons.

A call to the dead.

I inched backward, my heart in my throat. Oberon issued a hushed command, keeping his focus on the creature. “Stay behind me.”

The creature uncurled from the hollow. Its spindly limbs scraped against the bark as it pulled itself free. Its skin was the color of decay, stretched thin and torn over its elongated frame. Its fingers, clawed with too many joints, dragged along the ground as it straightened to its full, unnatural height.

The bones dangling from the branches above clattered together, as if whispering in response to its presence. Oberon positioned himself between me and the creature, his sword gleaming even in the dim, corrupted light filtering through the twisted canopy.

“That’s not a Fae,” I murmured. “Is it?”

“No,” Oberon replied through clenched teeth. “It’s worse.”

The creature tilted its head. It had no lips, only a stretched maw filled with jagged teeth. The sound was unsettling when it spoke in a rasping, hollow voice that resembled wind rattling through dead trees.

“What do you seek?” The sound wrapped around my ribs.

Oberon didn’t flinch. “We’re here to end this curse.”

A deep, throaty noise rumbled from the thing’s chest.Was it laughing?It lifted one elongated finger and pointed at me. “The herbalist must bleed.”

My stomach dropped.

Oberon shifted his stance to block me. “Not happening.”

One moment, the creature stood beneath the cursed tree; the next, it loomed before us, a twisted horror of gnarled limbs and malevolence. Its form shifted as if the land itself rejected its presence. I gasped, stumbling back as blackened, bony talons lashed toward me. A flash of steel intercepted them. Sparks exploded in the dark as Oberon’s sword absorbed the impact of the strike. The force sent him skidding back, boots gouging into the decayed soil.

“Damn it, move!” he barked.

I forced my feet to obey, scrambling back as my mind raced. The bellthorn held the curse. The land was poisoned by something ancient, crafted to fester and spread. The air reeked of rot and magic. But how could we sever it? How would we—

The ground shifted beneath me, and a sickening crack split the silence. A root shot up, and I twisted away, tripping and rolling to the side as another lashed toward my legs. Oberon’s booming voice resonated through the chaos, commanding as he slashed through the writhing wood. “Herbalist!” Another strike, another severed root. “Whatever you’re thinking, think faster!”

I bit back a curse.

It watched me. Not Oberon, who stood slashing and fighting it, butme. Was it because I could end this or because it had tasted my blood on the bellthorn and wanted more?

Oberon’s movements were fluid, precise, and relentless. His sword extended his body, slicing through sinew and bark. He severed limbs and vines with inhuman speed, but the wounds healed before my eyes. The curse refused to let them fall.

“It’s healing too quickly!” I shouted, dodging back as a twisted limb slammed into the ground where I had stood just a breath before. Oberon shifted his stance, his fingers curling tighter around his blade. The land cracked beneath his boots, and power thrummed in the air.

The beast lunged. Its massive, gnarled limb arced toward me. I braced for the impact. There was a sickening crunch and then silence.

Oberon stood before me, a storm given form. His grip locked around the beast’s gnarled limb. Black veins burst across his skin, crawling up his arm in jagged, pulsing lines. I watched in horror as the sickness burrowed deep, threading into his flesh in hungry roots, spreading beneath his skin to rot him from the inside out.

My stomach lurched.

It halted.

The air shuddered. An unseen pulse rippled outward, warping the surrounding space. Silver-blue light bled from his veins, fierce and untamed, crackling in strokes of lightning beneath the surface. The darkness recoiled and peeled away as if it had never intended to touch him. The cursed veins shattered, brittle as ink on glass, burning away into nothing.

The creature shrieked, producing a raw, unnatural sound that grated on my skull. It twisted, recoiling—not from pain, but from recognition.It feared him.

Oberon exhaled, slow and controlled. His breath misted in the unnatural chill that had descended upon us. When he spoke, his voice was no longer entirely human. The heavy, resonant words slithered through the air, vibrating my bones. They were a forgotten language, older than the kingdom itself. Each syllable hummed with a power that warped at the edges of reality, bending it to his will.

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