Dragon of a Broken World

Chapter 8

It felt like a terrifying nightmare; the wolves' eyes fixed on us with predatory intent as they closed in to attack. Diva and I looked at each other in pure terror, fully aware that there was no way we could overpower them.

Then, out of the blue, their collective momentum fractured, replaced by a bewildering wave of internal distress. It was as if their very essence, their savage nature, was being violently restrained from the inside. They began to writhe, their low growls morphing into whimpers of pure, intense suffering.

Their bodies seemed to fight against an invisible, crushing pressure. Muscles tensed and locked, and their powerful limbs buckled, forcing them to stumble and claw at the air. The alpha’s head snapped back, a soundless scream of agonized confusion distorting its snout, as if some vital piece of its feral spirit was being forcefully ripped away.

They were not merely scared; they were utterly miserable, their predatory focus replaced by a desperate need for relief from an inexplicable, sickening torment that emanated from their core outward.

Then, behind the convulsing, struggling mass of wolves, the source of their incapacitation was revealed. There stood Harvey, his posture commanding and rigid. His eyes did not just glow; they were twin pools of incandescent, controlled fire, the color of molten amber and deep, searing magic. This was the source of the immense, invisible coercion, and it was Harvey, utilizing his profound power to inflict an unbearable, debilitating counter-force, effectively turning their own strength and wildness against them.

The pack swirled away from the encounter, scattering like driven smoke. They abandoned their attack instantly, bolting back into the dark undergrowth of the wood, their hasty retreat a testament to the magical dominion Harvey held over them.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, my breath uneven as the reality of what had almost happened slowly caught up to me. The forest felt unnaturally quiet, the air still heavy with the echo of the wolves’ pain.

Diva’s hand found mine, her grip tight and unsteady. I could feel her shaking. She glanced at me, then toward Harvey, her eyes wide with disbelief.

He rushed toward me, the light in his eyes receding slightly, replaced by a look of sharp, unmitigated severity. “What are you doing? Why are you risking yourself like this?” he demanded, his voice a low, intensely serious undertone. The profound dread emanating from him was palpable, a raw exposure of how deeply he feared my loss.

Impulsively, driven by relief and a shock of gratitude, I ran to him. My arms wrapped around him, and his embrace was immediate, a shelter of soothing warmth and solid comfort. For the first time, I felt a bond of unconditional devotion.

“Come on, let’s go,” he murmured, gently guiding me and Diva out of the menacing woods.

“I’ll go check on my sister now,” Diva said, leaving when we were halfway. “I’m good,” she managed to say confidently, even though a hint of fear lingered in her eyes.

“Be careful,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the lingering tension.

Once inside, the adrenaline dissipated, leaving me shattered. Everything I had witnessed: the bizarre house, the basement, the wolves, and the skull. Everything I had heard and seen hit me all at once, leaving me reeling. My hands shook, and I stumbled back, turning toward Harvey almost instinctively, as if searching for some anchor in the chaos.

I thought I could do this. I thought I could pretend it was just a marriage, something I could manage, something I could live with as if it never happened. But no, I couldn’t. I really couldn’t do this. How was their house connected to that creepy basement outside? And the wolves... something about it wasn’t right.

Surprise crossed his face. “You are getting married?” “But do you want to get married?”

“No!” I said. “I mean it’s a long story, but I didn’t want this. I can’t get married to Edgar.” I had made up my mind. I stared at him, meeting those sunlit brown eyes.

“Do you wish to marry him?”

“No,” my voice cracking with rage. “The Wilsons were not who I thought they were. I knew they were strange, but this was beyond strange. Their house was right there. This is crazy.”

A lot was going through my mind at that moment, and the only thing I could come up with was a reckless, desperate deal. Then I said out loud without thinking, “I’ll help you find it… I offered suddenly.

“I will help you find the grimoire. I’ll do everything, but I can’t marry Edgar.” I didn't want to get involved in whatever was happening, especially after randomly summoning Harvey, but at the same time, I wanted to escape my own reality, even though I knew I couldn’t.

After agreeing to help him find the grimoire, despite only having heard about it in a fairy tale, his expression changed. He looked quietly happy, almost proud. He just stood there, staring at me, as if he were completely speechless.

The sound of my sister’s arrival, radiating her usual cold, severe presence, snapped my anger back into focus. I pulled myself away from Harvey and walked toward her, gathering every ounce of confidence I had, refusing to fully accept the depth of her cruelty.

“What in the world is your problem, Lina?!”

She looked at me like I was speaking some nonsense. “What are you talking about?” She laughed. “What are you talking about, you psycho?”

“Don’t play dumb Lina, you’re the worst. Seriously, you and Edgar. You wanted him to kill me.” My voice shook despite my effort to stay strong. “I told you I don’t even like Edgar, damn it, but you wished me gone instead?”

“So what?”

“I’m your sister!” The words tore out of me.

A fake, wicked smirk curved her lips. “Why does everything always have to be about you?” Resentment burned in her eyes, sharp and unmistakable. I felt sick realizing just how cold she could be.

I looked straight into her eyes then, really looked at her. “You don’t need all this,” I whispered, my heart breaking as the words left me. I turned away and walked straight to my room, my face tight with pain.

But little did I know, I had subscribed for another nightmare. The next morning, the terror had settled. I tried to open my door, intending to go to school as usual, to grasp at normal life. But the door wouldn’t open.

At first, it felt like a sick joke. Minutes turned into hours, and hours bled into one another. I shook the lock relentlessly, slammed my hands against the wood, and screamed until my throat was raw, but only silence answered. The house had become a soundproof tomb. The sickening realization dawned: I’m locked in here! I couldn’t accept the fact that I might be locked in my own room, and it was already two days to the wedding.

Exhaustion, both physical and mental, overcame my will. A deep, depressive lethargy consumed the days, and just like that, while locked in my room for two days without food or water, the inevitable, dreaded wedding day came swiftly, mockingly fast.

I woke up feeling drained in energy, and pathetic for just wishing my bed would swallow me whole. My mother’s ceaseless, joyous preparations downstairs only compounded the utter misery and absurdity of my situation.

A soft knock came on my door just as the sun cleared the horizon. I pictured my mom, buzzing with excitement, holding the wedding dress, a white, lace monstrosity, pretending like everything was perfect. The image was utterly repulsive, unacceptable.

With a sudden surge of furious energy, I jumped out of bed, restless, my body tense, my hair tangled and rough from days of inattention, my eyes drained of color from sleepless dread. I refused to accept this empty ending: marrying Edgar Willson, especially knowing Linda my sister was in love with my so-called fiancé and was willing to kill me for it. I decided I wouldn’t let that happen; it is what it is.

The knocking grew louder, more frantic, refusing to stop. I backed away from the door, heart pounding, panic clawing its way up my throat. I wasn’t going to open it. I couldn’t. Every second felt like a countdown, like if I hesitated even once the plan would be over.

Hopeless, foolish, and desperate, I checked my room window, which was highly dangerous, but I was ready to risk anything just to escape the suffocating walls of that house. Each sound pressed deeper into my chest, tightening my breath. I had already decided: I wasn’t opening it. I would rather climb out the window than let anyone walk into that room and take control of me again.

The lock shifted. The door moved just enough to let someone through.

And suddenly, the room didn’t feel as heavy. There was a calm where panic had been. A quiet steadiness that didn’t belong to this house, or this morning, or the nightmare waiting outside. My breath caught before I understood why, then I lifted my eyes.

He stood there with an ease that felt out of place, composed in a way that made everything else seem frantic by comparison. Fine, unfairly so. Not trying to impress, not forcing presence, just there, like he had every right to be.

He looked unreal, dressed impeccably, like a groom, like a prince pulled straight out of a dream. Light seemed to follow him into the room, soft and warm, cutting through the darkness I had been drowning in.

I stood there in disbelief, reality blurring. “No. You are not real. You can’t be real,” I whispered. “I must have summoned you or something, right? This has to be my mind playing tricks on me.”

“I’m real, Elizabeth.” His voice was gentle, grounding. He looked at me, really looked at me, and something painful flickered across his face. Concern. Tenderness. His eyes softened, enough to melt my fear away.

I crossed the space between us and pressed into him, my face buried against his chest as if it had always been the safest place to land. His arms came around me immediately, firm and certain, one hand steady at my back, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me standing.

He held me firmly, protectively, one hand in my hair, the other steady against my back, as if he would never let go. “It’s going to be okay,” he muttered.

And for the first time in years, maybe longer, I felt it. Safety. Something dangerous and beautiful bloomed in my chest, something I couldn’t explain.