Page 64 of Whisker me Away
"It's working," Freya breathed, feeling the spell lock into place with satisfying finality. "The binding is holding."
The Thornweaver's response was immediate and devastating. Its rage shook the twisted trees until their branches cracked, split the poisoned earth with fractures that ran for yards in every direction, and filled the air with a scream so full of fury and frustration that birds took flight for miles around.
But underneath the ancient evil's rage, Freya heard something else. Something that made her heart soar with hope and triumph.
Defeat.
The Thornweaver knew it had lost. The psychological warfare that should have broken their concentration had instead forced them to discover the true strength of their bond. The corruption that should have overwhelmed their individual powers had instead taught them to work as a unified force. Every weapon the ancient evil possessed had been turned against it by two people who refused to face impossible odds alone.
"You think this changes anything?" the Thornweaver snarled, its voice carrying desperation beneath the threats. "You think pretty lights and renewed spells will hold me forever?"
"I think," Freya said, her voice ringing with absolute conviction, "that you've never faced a binding spell powered by true mates who love each other more than they fear death in a long time."
The ritual circle blazed brighter, light pouring from the ancient stones with enough intensity to banish every shadow from the grove. Where corruption had writhed and twisted, clean earth appeared like a promise of spring after the longest winter. Where poisoned trees had reached with grasping branches, healthy wood stood straight and strong, their bark already showing the first signs of healing.
The Thornweaver's prison snapped into its final configuration with an almost musical chime, new constraints layering over old ones until the ancient evil was contained by magic so dense and powerful it would take centuries to even begin fraying at its edges.
"This isn't over," the Thornweaver hissed, its voice already growing distant as the binding spell pulled it deeper into magicalsleep. "There will be other guardians, other chances to break free."
"Maybe," Freya agreed, watching the last traces of corruption flee before the advancing light. "But they'll face guardians who know the secret now. Guardians who understand that the real power isn't in individual strength, but in the bonds between people who choose to protect each other."
The ancient evil's final shriek faded into silence, leaving behind a grove that looked nothing like the nightmare they'd entered hours earlier. The twisted trees had straightened, their branches reaching toward a sky that no longer seemed threatening. The ground beneath their feet felt solid and fertile, ready to support new growth when spring returned to the mountains.
Even the air smelled different. Clean. Pure. Free from the taint of hatred that had poisoned it for so long.
The binding spell had snapped back into place and the Thornweaver was locked away with its corruption.
35
KIERAN
The moment the binding spell locked into place with a resonance that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth, Kieran felt something fundamental shift in his chest. The mate bond, which had been strong after their claiming ceremony, suddenly snapped into a configuration with enough force to make his knees buckle.
His tiger roared with pure triumph, the sound echoing both in his chest and through the grove as every cell in his body recognized that Freya was his in ways that transcended the physical world. Not just his mate, not just his partner, but literally the other half of his soul, bound to him by magic older than civilization and stronger than death itself.
"Kieran?" Freya's voice sounded distant, concerned. "Are you okay?"
"More than okay." He straightened slowly, marveling at how different everything felt now that their bond was truly complete.
Suddenly, movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. All around them, the corruption that had plagued Hollow Oak for weeks was reversing itself with visible speed. Black sap that had oozed from twisted bark flowed backwardinto the earth like water running uphill, while withered plants straightened and regained their color as if someone had hit reverse on a nature documentary.
"Look," he breathed, pointing to a massive oak tree whose branches had been skeletal and dying just minutes before. Now it stood tall and healthy, its bark gleaming with new growth and its canopy full of leaves that rustled with returning life.
"It's spreading," Freya said with amazement, watching the wave of renewal flow outward from where their joined hands still touched. "The binding spell isn't just containing the Thornweaver. It's actively healing the damage."
"Because that's what your magic does." Kieran squeezed her fingers gently. "It nurtures, it heals, it helps things grow. And now it's got the power it needs to fix everything that was broken."
Exhaustion hit him like a freight train as the adrenaline of battle finally faded, leaving behind bone-deep weariness that made standing feel like a monumental effort. But it was good exhaustion, the kind that came from accomplishing something impossible and living to tell about it.
"Easy there," Freya said, steadying him as he swayed slightly. "You've been pouring your life force into that binding spell for hours. Your body needs time to recover."
"So does yours." He noted the pale cast to her skin, the way her hands trembled slightly with magical depletion. "We both need food, rest, and about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep."
"After we make sure everyone knows we succeeded." Freya gestured toward the edge of the grove where familiar figures were approaching with cautious hope. "Looks like our audience is ready for an update."
Elder Varric led the small group of council members who'd maintained vigil throughout the night, his storm-gray eyes wide with amazement as he took in the transformed grove. Behindhim came Maeve, Edgar Tansley, and Miriam Caldwell, all of them looking like they'd aged years in the span of a single evening.
"Is it over?" Elder Varric asked.
