Page 62 of Whisker me Away
The barrier shattered like glass, and corruption exploded outward from the Thornweaver's prison with renewed fury. Black sap began weeping from every surface, the twisted trees writhed with increased malevolence, and the very air grew thick with hatred so ancient and deep it made breathing feel like drowning.
"Freya!" Kieran's voice cracked with desperation as he fought to maintain some semblance of the binding spell alone, his power insufficient to contain an evil that had just grown stronger from feeding on her fear and doubt.
She struggled to her feet, pain shooting through her injured ribs, and felt her heart stop at what she saw. Kieran stood at the center of the ruined ritual circle, blood streaming from his eyes and nose as he poured everything he had into a desperate attempt to hold back the Thornweaver's expansion. His eyes had gone completely gold as his tiger fought to provide strength his human body couldn't sustain.
"I can't hold it much longer," he gasped, his voice thick with strain and blood. "Freya, I need you."
But she was frozen, watching her mate sacrifice himself to compensate for her failure, knowing that every drop of blood he shed was her fault. The visions hadn't been lies after all. She really was too weak to protect the people she loved.
"Let him die," the Thornweaver whispered seductively. "Let them all die, and you can stop pretending to be something you're not. Stop carrying a burden you were never strong enough to bear."
"No." The word came out as barely a whisper, but it carried absolute conviction.
"No?" The ancient evil's laughter rustled through the corrupted trees. "You think saying no will change what you are? You think denial will make you strong enough to matter?"
"I think," Freya said, pushing herself away from the tree despite the pain radiating through her body, "that you're wrong about what makes me strong."
The Thornweaver's laughter faltered slightly. "What?"
"You showed me visions of failure, of everyone I love dying because I'm not good enough to save them. But you missed something important.You missed the part where I'm not carrying this burden alone anymore."
"Your mate is dying," the Thornweaver snarled. "Look at him bleeding, look at him failing. This is what your weakness has cost him."
33
KIERAN
Pain exploded through Kieran's skull as he watched Freya's magic crumble under the Thornweaver's psychological assault, her body flying across the grove to crash against a twisted tree with sickening force. The binding spell shattered like glass, and suddenly he was alone, holding back an ancient evil with power that burned through his system like liquid fire.
His tiger roared with helpless fury, claws extending involuntarily as every predator instinct screamed at him to hunt, to fight, to tear apart the enemy that dared threaten his mate. But this wasn't an enemy he could sink his teeth into. This was corruption made manifest, hatred given form, evil that attacked the mind rather than the body.
Blood ran from his eyes and nose as he poured everything he had into maintaining some semblance of the barrier, his human body pushed far beyond its limits while his tiger fought to provide strength that was never meant to sustain this kind of magical assault.
"Look at you," the Thornweaver whispered, its voice sliding through his mind like oil on water. "Bleeding yourself dry fora woman who couldn't even maintain focus when it mattered most."
"Shut up," Kieran gasped, his vision blurring as more blood flowed. The barrier flickered like a dying candle, corruption pressing against its edges with relentless hunger.
"You could save yourself, you know. Walk away from this farce, leave the failed guardian to face the consequences of her inadequacy. A rootless tiger has no business meddling in bloodline magic anyway."
The words struck at fears Kieran had carried since adolescence, the deep-seated belief that he didn't belong anywhere, that his lack of pack connections made him less than other shifters. His power wavered as doubt crept through his resolve like poison.
"She's dragging you down to her level," the ancient voice continued with malicious satisfaction. "You could have been so much more without the burden of her failure. Strong, independent, free from the weight of impossible responsibilities."
"I said shut up." But Kieran's voice lacked conviction, the Thornweaver's psychological warfare finding every crack in his emotional armor.
The barrier shuddered, golden light dimming as his concentration fractured. He could feel the corruption pressing closer, testing for weaknesses, ready to explode outward the moment his strength finally failed. And it would fail. His human body couldn't sustain this level of magical output much longer.
"You've never belonged anywhere," the Thornweaver whispered seductively. "Foster homes that didn't want you, packs that wouldn't claim you, a town that only tolerates you because you're useful. Why die for people who see you as expendable?"
"Because..." Kieran's knees buckled, his power flickering dangerously. "Because they're mine to protect."
"Are they? Or are you just playing pretend, like you've done your whole life? Pretending to belong, pretending to matter, pretending someone like you could ever be worthy of a guardian's love."
That's when Kieran felt it. A familiar presence pushing through the pain and despair, reaching for their connection with desperate determination. Freya. She was fighting her way back to him despite the obvious agony radiating from her crumpled form.
"Kieran." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the Thornweaver's psychological assault like sunlight through storm clouds. "I'm here. I'm with you."
"Freya?" He turned toward her, noting the way she struggled to her feet despite what had to be cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder. "You should run. Get to safety while you still can."
