My Greatest Gift
1014 Words
Amaria proved to be a formidable opponent, having learned from their first encounter at the ridge.
"You've been practicing," Lucian stated wryly.
"A little bit," Amaria responded with glee.
Suddenly, the marsh lit up like daylight. The swamp came alive, grasping at limbs and pulling soldiers into its depths. Talia and Amalia continued to read Amaria’s aura to find her heart, but she adjusted quickly, remaining a moving target.
The marsh stank of blood and rot, but in the heart of the chaos, Kaela’s voice cut through the mind-link like a blade of light.
SAVAGE!
Her plea wrapped around Lucian’s wolf, dragging him from the edge of fury. Please don’t shut me out again. We can’t win alone. If we fight divided, more of our people will die. Talia's wolf pleaded.
Savage’s growl rumbled, low and reluctant. But then his golden eyes burned through Lucian’s, fixed on Kaela’s wolf spirit. He bent his head.
Together.
A current surged through both of them—heat and strength, doubling the pack bond.
“No!” Amaria shrieked from the bank, her voice shrilling with dark power. The bog water rippled with her rage.
But Elder Neris rose above the clamor, her staff lifted, her voice a thunderclap: “Good! Now we ALL fight—and WIN!”
The battlefield exploded.
Alina burst forward as her wolf, her body twisting, bones snapping until the great white wolf landed with a snarl at Casius’s side. This was the first time Talia had seen Alina's wolf. Her mouth dropped, stunned at the size of the wolf and her sheer beauty and power.
Casius, stayed in his human form, shirt torn, muscles slick with blood, his arms directing soldiers in precise formations. His command carried through the marsh:
“Step where I step! Mark the path!”
One by one, the warriors fell into rhythm, their movements carving a safe passage across the cursed ground. Rogues who had joined the fury to support the witch lunged, but each one that broke the lines met Alina’s snapping jaws.
Roland staggered, his chest heaving. His eyes found Amalia through the fog. For one fleeting heartbeat, everything else blurred away.
'Mate." His voice reached her across the years. "Forgive me for abandoning you."
Her hands trembled on her staff, tears catching in the corner of her eyes as she whispered, “No, don't leave me a second time…”
Roland’s wolf looked at her through his eyes, a farewell blazing there like fire before its last smoke.
Then his gaze snapped at Talia; he mind-linked her through the old Black River link, his voice resonating directly in her mind."Hear me, child. Hidden in my cabin, here in the marsh, you will find my greatest gift. It will lead you to the War-Room Stones, where the identity of the second traitor within the castle walls lies revealed."
A sharp whirring cut through the humid air. Talia’s heart stopped.
The charm—a shard ripped from Amaria’s witch-bracelet—slammed into Roland’s neck. He staggered, choking, clawing with one hand at the weapon. His fingers slipped uselessly over the smooth, blood-slick surface, with no purchase to be found.
On his knees, breath ragged, his gaze locked onto Talia's. The world narrowed her face, her wide, terrified eyes.
“In your father’s notes… are the keys…” His voice rasped through their weakening tether. Breaking. Gone.
A final shudder racked his body. His hand fell away, heavy as stone. His blood continued to flow in small gasps from his neck. His eyes remained open, locked on nothing. Lifeless.
“NO!” Amalia’s scream shattered the marsh, raw with grief. She spun toward the witch, fury igniting her hands. Intricate symbols blazed into the fog, threads of ancient power woven into the air itself.
Talia’s eyes widened. She recognized it. The magic wasn’t just an attack—it was a legacy. The same signs her father once traced in dusty journals, the same shapes he had sketched in the dirt, disguised as hopscotch boxes and finger-paint swirls. What she once thought were fairy tales had always been inheritance—an ancient birthright hidden in play.
Her breath caught. Slowly, she lifted her hands. At first, they trembled, hesitant, but then steadied with resolve. Across the marsh, Alina’s gaze met hers. Together, they moved—sisters bound by blood and destiny—mirroring one another until the fires flared into a single cyclone of power.
Kaela's voice rushed through the link, threaded with Savage's "Now, while she’s tiring and weakened."
Power, raw and undeniable, rose from the three wolves. All could see the golden sword as it arced through the sky, driving straight toward the witch's heart. Amaria’s scream fractured into a ragged screeching of agony and pain as she died.
Lucian lunged as the other three wolves maintained their connection to impale the witch. His blade flashed silver. The witch faltered under the sisters’ weaving and Amalia’s storm.
With one savage strike, Lucian’s sword severed her head. Amaria’s body dropped into the mud with a hiss, black smoke uncoiling like snakes from the wound.
Silence—just for a heartbeat.
Then the marsh groaned.
Out of the fog stepped another figure. Taller. Stronger. Her aura eclipsed Amaria’s like the moon swallowing stars.
Her eyes gleamed with unholy light, hair streaming wild with power.
“Fools,” she hissed. “Did you think Amaria was the end?”
The marsh recoiled at her presence. Wolves whimpered. Even the fog thickened around her, alive with shadows.
Elder Neris’s staff cracked against the stone. Her face paled. “By the gods… another sister.”
Her smile was knife-thin, merciless.
“Amaria was my weakest.”
The battle wasn’t over. It had just begun.
Alina held Amalia, sobbing over Roland's remains.
The surviving wolves tended to their wounded kin and began the somber task of collecting the fallen—those who would not be returning to their families.
Lucian caught Talia's eye and nodded. She nodded back, grateful they were alive. The rest... the rest they could work on tomorrow.
- Writer
