Page 170 of Awakened

I nod. Of course I do. The willow tree, at the edge of the forest. Some of my earliest memories are afternoons filled with picnics and games, hidden by the fronds of that ancient tree. We would lay out blankets and spend hours sequestered away from the real world—just the two of us.

The fronds hid everything—including Father’s guards, who refused to crawl on the ground to follow us into our hidden kingdom. We quickly realized it was the only place on the entire estate that offered a modicum of privacy.

It became our sanctuary, and after Mother was gone, it became the only place I ever felt slightly safe. It didn’t matter that the safety was an illusion. Not for a little girl who didn’t know what it felt like to live without fear.

“I left something for you there.” Her tone grows in urgency. “I worried something like this would happen, so I hid it. I would have given it to you myself when you became an adult. But I worried—” she shakes her head, like it’s irrelevant now.

“You have to find it, Idril. Promise me. Promise me you’ll find it.”

More shouts echo down the stairwell, the voices of the Alpha’s growing louder and more frantic. I glance over my shoulder and meet Soren’s worried gaze. This is killing him, I can tell. He doesn’t want to rush me, but…

“I’ll find it, mama. Okay? I will. But not alone. We’ll go together. You can give it to me just like you planned.”

Her eyes drift over my shoulder toward the empty staircase as the sounds of shouting turn into the familiar noise of fighting. She hangs her head, shoulders deflating as tears finally escape from her lower lashes and stream down her face.

When she lifts her head and her eyes meet mine, I see the truth I’ve been denying staring back at me.

We aren’t going to visit the willow tree together.

We aren’t going to go anywhere together, ever again.

This isn’t a rescue mission anymore.

It's goodbye.

We hold to each other’s hands, a million unspoken words between us. The life we should have had together. The joy my father has—once again—stolen from us both. All the questions and worries and moments in the future when I’ll need my mother—each one ripped out at the root, leaving behind empty holes where nothing will grow.

The runes on the walls flare unexpectedly, growing brighter and making me wince.

“Idril, we have to go!” I turn at the sound of Caelan’s voice and reach for Soren’s hand. The sounds from upstairs have morphed into a terrifying cacophony of snarls, curses, and threats, accompanied by the scrape of steel on steel and flesh on flesh.

Shrieks of pain and grunts of exertion are so loud I’d swear the fight was taking place right in front of us if I didn’t know better.

Fates, when did it escalate?

“There’s no more time.” Her energy is obviously fading, and she’s starting to pant for air between words. “Your father kept me imprisoned for years. Different places. Always tinkering with ways to keep me docile. Until he discovered a way to manipulate the runes and create his own version of wards.”

Her eyes flit around the room, grimacing at the glowing silver-blue light.

“The runes kept me in a kind of stasis. They fed off my energy. Every few months he had to move me. Originally he was using my own blood,” she smiles ruefully. “My genes may be dormant, but he⁠—”

Above us, someone releases a rage-filled, painful roar that’s so angry the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Soren meets my eyes. He’s doing his best to stay strong and give me this time, but we’re running out. Fast.

Caelan bounds down the stairs, searching the basement until his eyes land on me. He exhales in relief, takes a deep breath, and turns back toward the stairwell. He moves with purpose, muscles tense and coiled tight, daggers at the ready, prepared to attack at the first sign of danger.

Another crash from above makes me jump. At the same moment, my mother’s voice cracks on a whine. Worried, I spin back around. “Are you⁠—”

“None of that.” She lifts trembling fingers to my lips. “This next part is important, alright?”

I nod, not daring to speak.

“I chose to stay here. I chose not to fight him. To wait.”

“Wait for what?”

She graces me with another sad, soft smile. This one is different, though. There’s no resignation in this smile. There’s only love. And a wistful melancholy I feel in my bones.

“For you, my dear girl. I knew this was the only way I’d have the chance to see you again, so I chose not to fight. I chose this. Do you understand? I waited, dreamt, and hoped for this exact moment. For one last chance to see you. To look you in the eyes and tell you how proud I am of you, my little ember.”