CHAPTER 6:THE WITCH OF HOLLOW ROOTS
1023 Words
The cave loomed like a wound in the earth—dark, pulsing with the kind of magic that made the wolf inside Lucian stir uncomfortably. This wasn’t just old magic.
It was ancient.
Selene stood at the entrance, her face unreadable in the dim forest light. “Once we go inside, she’ll know everything,” she warned. “Your thoughts. Your blood. Your fears.”
Lucian stepped up beside her. “Good. Maybe she can tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do next.”
Selene shot him a look. “She doesn’t like arrogance.”
“I wasn’t being arrogant.”
“She’ll still call it that.”
He exhaled slowly, grounding himself. “Then let’s be polite.”
They entered.
The moment their feet crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped. The air turned thick, almost liquid, like wading through fog that whispered. Runes carved into the cave walls glowed faintly, pulsing with a rhythm that didn’t belong to this world.
Lucian’s senses strained. His wolf recoiled.
This wasn’t natural magic—it was raw, elemental, forged in the crucible of the Goddess’s tears.
At the heart of the cavern, they found her.
The Witch of Hollow Roots.
She was hunched over a fire that burned green and gold, bones woven into her dreadlocked hair, silver chains hanging from her neck and wrists. Her eyes were milky white, yet they seemed to pierce right through them.
“Daughter of the lost blood,” she rasped, voice like wind through dry leaves. “Son of the golden line. The bond sings loud in your veins.”
Lucian tensed. “You know about us.”
The witch turned her head slowly toward him. “I know everything. Even the things you haven’t yet dared to think.”
Selene stepped forward. “We need your help. The Binding Rite—”
“Will kill you both if you are not prepared.”
Lucian took a step forward. “Then tell us what to do.”
The witch laughed, a sound like branches snapping under ice. “So eager. You think the bond makes you ready?”
“We don’t have time to wait,” Selene said. “The Drakon are stirring. The veil is weakening. We saw visions.”
The witch’s pale eyes narrowed. “You touched the Moonpool.”
Lucian nodded. “And something touched back.”
For a long, silent moment, the witch studied them. Then she stood—taller than either of them expected—and walked slowly around the fire.
“The Goddess has cursed and blessed you both,” she said. “One carries the blood of rebels. The other, the blood of kings. Together, you awaken what should have stayed buried.”
“What do we have to do?” Selene asked.
“You must complete the Rite before the Red Moon rises,” the witch said. “Only then will your souls fully tether, your wolves become one. Only then will you survive what’s to come.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened. “What does it require?”
The witch bent low, dipping her fingers into the fire. When she pulled them out, they glowed with silver flame. She reached forward and touched Lucian’s shoulder.
Pain exploded through him. His knees buckled. He growled, but Selene caught his arm, holding him upright.
The witch drew a glowing crescent moon on his skin—surrounded by a ring of ancient runes.
“Your mark,” she whispered. “One half of the bond.”
Then she turned to Selene.
Without flinching, Selene stepped forward and bared her shoulder.
The witch repeated the rite, drawing a mirror of the same symbol on her skin.
When she finished, the air in the cave shifted.
The bond between them pulsed—visible for a brief second, a glowing tether of moonlight stretched between their chests.
Lucian felt it deep in his bones. Selene gasped.
The witch stepped back.
“You must now pass through the trials,” she said. “To survive, you must trust. To complete it, you must sacrifice.”
Lucian raised a brow. “Sacrifice what?”
But the witch was already turning away. “Return at moonrise. The path will show itself.”
The fire dimmed.
The cave grew quiet.
Lucian stared down at his shoulder. The mark was still burning faintly, like embers under skin. “What the hell did she just do to us?”
Selene touched her own shoulder, eyes troubled. “She tied our souls.”
Lucian swallowed. “So this is real.”
She nodded.
They left the cave without speaking, the silence heavier now. The trees outside whispered louder, like they knew something had changed. Like they could sense the thread of fate winding tighter around them.
As they walked back to the glade, Lucian stole glances at Selene. She walked with her arms crossed, as if holding herself together.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“No,” she admitted. “But I will be.”
Lucian looked up at the sky. Clouds shifted, revealing the pale white moon. In just a few days, it would be red.
He stopped walking.
Selene turned. “What is it?”
“I can’t go back,” Lucian said suddenly. “To Crescent Moon. To my father. Not like this.”
Selene’s expression hardened. “You can’t turn your back on them.”
“They already turned their back on me. You think they’ll accept this bond? You? They’ll call you a curse and call me weak.”
She hesitated. “I know.”
Lucian stepped closer. “But I don’t care. I’d rather stand with you and fall… than stand with them and lose myself.”
Her breath caught.
The bond between them shimmered again—stronger, brighter. Lucian reached out, brushing her fingers.
Selene closed her eyes.
“You’ll regret it,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” he said.
They stood there in the stillness, moonlight draping them like prophecy.
And far away, in the ruins of a forgotten temple, something opened its eyes for the first time in centuries.
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