Chapter4-Claire
1243 Words
The second the silver mist collapses, the entire room releases one huge breath—like everyone was suffocating and didn’t realize it.
Chairs creak. Someone sobs. Professor Valen is on the ground whispering prayers in three different languages.
But all I hear is Carter’s magic.
Wild.
Panicked.
Screaming through the realms for me.
My heart jerks so hard it physically hurts.
“C–Claire?”
LJ’s voice cracks behind me.
Her footsteps scramble across the floor, and suddenly she’s gripping my shoulders with trembling hands.
“WHAT—WHAT—WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” LJ shrieks. “Was that—was that a GODDESS? Did we just—did she just—did YOU just—CLAIRE WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”
Her voice pitches so high the lights flicker.
I don’t have time to comfort her. I don’t have time to explain. I don’t even have time to breathe.
I turn, grab LJ’s wrist, and yank her hard enough that she stumbles.
“We have to go.”
She blinks at me, stunned. “Go where?! Claire, are you insane? That was HECATE—WASN’T IT? OR—OR—THE MOON? GODS, I THINK I’M GONNA PASS OUT—”
“Carter,” I whisper, more to myself than her.
And that’s all it takes.
LJ’s face falls. Her fear shifts into something sharper. Protective. Fierce. My best friend to the bone.
“Lead the way,” she says immediately.
But before I can move—
“Claire.”
My blood turns to ice.
Draven.
I don’t want to look at him.
I don’t want to see those silver eyes again.
I don’t want to know what he thinks he sees in me.
I look anyway.
He’s standing there like the goddess carved him out of stone and left him behind. Shadows cling to him like loyal pets. His jaw is clenched, his wolf practically vibrating under his skin.
He looks at me like he knows me.
Like he has a claim.
Like he expects me to come to him.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
I tighten my grip on LJ’s wrist. “We’re leaving.”
Draven takes one slow step toward me. “Claire—”
“Don’t.”
The word cracks out of me like lightning.
Something flickers in his expression—surprise, anger, something else I don’t want to name.
“I felt the child’s magic,” he says, voice low, controlled. “He’s spiraling. He needs—”
“He needs me,” I snap. “Not you.”
He flinches like I hit him. Like it actually hurt.
Good.
I don’t have room in my life for wolves.
I don’t have room for destiny.
I don’t have room for the word Luna echoing in my skull like a curse.
I turn away. “Come on, LJ.”
“Claire—” Draven tries again.
But I’m already channeling my magic.
The runes on the floor glow. The air distorts. The scent of silver and rosemary fills my lungs.
Draven’s voice sharpens. “Claire—don’t run from this.”
“I’m not running from this,” I whisper.
The teleportation spell snaps around us.
“I’m running from you.”
The last thing I see before the magic swallows us whole is Draven’s eyes going dark—hurt, furious, and something terrifyingly close to broken.
And then—
The world disappears.
The world snaps back into place with a crack of shimmering light, and LJ and I stumble straight into the doorway of Carter’s classroom.
The smell hits me first.
Magic.
Raw, terrified, child magic.
It tastes metallic on my tongue, like lightning burned into the air.
It prickles across my skin.
It makes my heart slam so hard I can barely hear LJ whisper:
“Oh gods… Claire.”
The room is chaos.
Chairs overturned.
Toys floating in midair.
Crayons melted into colorful puddles across the floor.
Pages of picture books fluttering like terrified little birds.
And in the middle of it all—
Carter.
My baby.
My sweet, giggling, two-year-old Carter—
Standing barefoot on the floor, eyes glowing bright violet, tiny hands clenched at his sides as magic spirals violently around him like a storm made of broken stars.
He’s crying.
Big, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.
And the sight hits me so hard my knees nearly give out.
“Oh—oh no,” LJ whispers, covering her mouth. “Claire… he’s—he’s losing control.”
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
Because Carter sees me.
His glowing eyes lift.
His lips wobble.
And suddenly the air pressure drops so sharply LJ gasps for breath.
“Momma,” he whimpers. “Momma… sowwy—”
That’s all it takes.
The spiral of magic explodes outward.
LJ is thrown back against the wall.
Bookshelves rattle.
Windows crack.
A stuffed unicorn bursts into flames.
But I can’t feel any of it.
Because all I see is him.
“Carter,” I breathe.
He sobs harder, magic pulsing with every tiny heartbeat.
Everything in me—every spell Mom ever taught me, every ounce of power tied to Hecate’s line—surges to life at once.
I step forward.
LJ grabs my arm. “Claire—don’t! You’ll get pulled in—”
“I’m his mother,” I whisper.
The truth of the words vibrates through me.
Not by blood.
But by destiny.
By love.
By choice.
I tear myself free and walk straight into the storm.
Magic lashes at me, slicing across my skin like cold fire. Books slam into my shoulders. A chair grazes my cheek. Sparks burst at my feet.
But I don’t stop.
“Carter,” I say again, louder this time. “Sweetheart, look at me.”
He shakes his head violently. “Momma—I—I scared—”
“I know, baby,” I say, voice breaking. “But I’m here. I’m right here.”
The glow in his eyes flickers.
The storm slows—
Just for a second.
I kneel in front of him, ignoring the streaks of magic snapping across my arms.
“Momma’s here,” I whisper. “You’re safe. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He sniffles. “No wrong?”
“No wrong,” I promise, pulling him into my arms.
The moment I touch him—
Everything stops.
The magic collapses like a deflating balloon.
The floating objects drop to the ground.
The pictures stop flapping.
The fire on the unicorn extinguishes with a sad hiss.
And the only thing left is Carter curled against my chest, tiny fingers clutching my shirt, shaking.
“Momma,” he cries softly.
My heart cracks. “I’ve got you, baby. Momma’s here.”
Behind me, LJ exhales shakily. “Holy shit.”
I rock Carter gently, brushing a kiss into his hair, whispering every calming charm I know.
But something shifts in the air.
A cold ripple.
A shadow falling across the doorway.
LJ’s voice lowers.
“Claire… someone’s here.”
I freeze.
Because I know exactly who it is.
Slow, deliberate footsteps approach.
Heavy.
Predatory.
Unmistakable.
And then—
Draven’s voice, deep and low, fills the room:
“Claire.”
I close my eyes.
Of all the moments…
Of all the times…
Of all the damn places—
“Not now,” I whisper.
But Draven doesn’t listen.
His voice softens—almost painfully so.
“Let me help him.”
- Writer
