Moonlit Enchantment

Chapter Twenty Two

The forest breathed around him as Dmitri padded silently through the underbrush, fur sleek and black beneath the silver light of the moon. In his wolf form, every sense sharpened—the rustle of leaves, the faintest trace of a scent on the breeze, the quiet murmur of the earth beneath his paws. He moved with purpose, circling the protective barrier the Everglen sisters had woven around their home.

The Veil of Shadows shimmered faintly, a silvery pulse where magic kissed the land. It was strong—but not infallible. Dmitri’s instincts warned him not to trust spell or shield without vigilance.

He sniffed the air, catching the ghost of something unnatural—foreign and fleeting—just beyond the perimeter. His hackles rose, a low growl swallowed by the night. No one had crossed the veil tonight, but the threat lingered.

Careful, deliberate, he traced the boundary once more, weaving between ancient trees whose bark bore scars of old magic. The forest held its breath.

At the edge of the clearing, he paused, muscles coiled. Beneath a silvered oak, he shifted back—bone and sinew rearranging with a rush of heat and pain until human flesh settled over the wolf’s form. Naked and raw, he drew a slow breath, grounding himself again in the skin he shared with Sabrina.

Cold air prickled his skin. He didn’t linger. From the forest floor, he retrieved the roughspun trousers he’d left folded near the tree—his only concession to modesty after a shift. Sliding them on, he cinched the leather tie tight at his waist.

Now dressed, he padded toward the cottage, the warm glow of lamplight spilling through the windows like a promise.

Inside, Sabrina curled in the old armchair, knees drawn up, silver hair cascading over her shoulder like moonlight spun to silk. A book lay open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t on the page anymore. She looked up the moment he stepped through the door.

“You were gone a while,” she said softly, setting the book aside as she rose.

Dmitri met her halfway, arms wrapping around her before the words came. “Just a sweep. Something strange out there. Didn’t cross the veil, but I didn’t like it.”

She leaned into him without hesitation. “Are we safe?”

“For now.” He kissed the top of her head, then her temple. “But I’ll keep checking. Every night if I have to.”

She pulled back enough to study his face. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

His smile was tired but warm. “I know. But I need to.”

They sank together onto the worn sofa, the quiet around them settling like a second skin. For a while, neither spoke. Outside, the wind stirred faintly through the trees. Inside, firelight cast flickering patterns on the walls.

Eventually, Sabrina turned to him, concern flickering in her eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Why would Radú send Ragnor after us now? Why not sooner?”

Dmitri exhaled, jaw tightening. “I think he did. It goes back to the night my pack was wiped out.”

Her gaze sharpened. “You think the bond made you more visible?”

“I think the bond made me dangerous,” he said. “Before, I was just another exile. Barely holding on. But with you… I’m different. Stronger. They can feel it—even if they don’t understand what it is.”

He let out a slow breath, voice low. “They’ve been hunting me since the night we met. Radú’s pack didn’t just appear overnight—it’s been a shadow behind every step.”

“Do you think they know about the Sylvari Bond? I mean will they have heard of it?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t think so. Not yet. But they know something’s changed. That’s enough for them to act.”

Sabrina considered that, brows furrowed. “If they’re in the dark, that gives us the advantage. We’re still learning what this bond does. But if we understand it before they do… we could turn the tables.”

“We already are,” he said. “That shield the Fae cast? No one’s getting through without them knowing.”

She gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Still. It’s not enough to hide. We need to be ready.”

“We will be.” He nudged her knee with his. “And maybe… sleep.”

She arched a brow. “Is that a tactical order?”

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning. “Starting with you.”

Before she could protest, he scooped her up in one smooth motion, earning a startled laugh as he stood.

“Dmitri—!”

“Nope,” he said, already moving toward the stairs. “Bedroom. Doctor’s orders.”

“I didn’t know you were a doctor.”

“I’m improvising.”

She looped her arms around his neck, her laughter softening into something quieter—affection, trust, the kind that only grows in the shadow of shared danger.

As he carried her up the stairs two at a time, she nestled closer, and the tension coiled beneath her ribs finally began to ease.

Behind them, the lamplight burned low. Outside, the barrier shimmered once—a silent pulse of watchful magic. And within the safety of wood and stone, ward and spell, two souls wove closer beneath the weight of a bond older than memory—and strong enough to stand against the dark.