Chapter 35: Nothing To HideThe moon, a sliver of her namesake, hung low in the sky, a silent witness. A part of her was always connected to it, to the night sky, and to her mother, who taught her to love it. She looked up and felt a connection, a profound sense of family and belonging. She was no longer a girl running from a monster, nor a beast chained by humans. She was both. Her consciousness, once a battleground, now felt like a calm stream flowing through her. Pcid, harmonious - whole.
As she climbed towards the Keep’s highest point, she felt a new kind of power. Not just the physical strength of the beast, but a magical energy that thrummed just beneath her fur. The deal she had made in exchange for the Dame’s aid was a profound and jarring paradox; the very magic that had bound her to that maniputive force that once pulled all her strings was now an extension of her own will. But all the same she felt the magical colr around her neck, a begrudgingly given boon that felt both like a beautiful, silver cage and an unbreakable coat of mail. It was a new strength that had come at a great cost, but one she would wield to protect what she loved.
Amber reached the highest parapet of the keep, her pale fur catching the cold, lonely wind. She looked up at Poris, the North Star, and felt a quiet, unwavering calm. It was the only constant she had ever known, a silent promise of sanctuary this pce had instilled in her. From this vantage, the world below was a tableau of chaos. The Fae armies, a glittering tide of cold iron and malicious magic, crashed against the keep's main bridge. Their numbers were far greater than she could have imagined. And in the distance, a growing column of inky smoke, tinged with a sickly red light, rose from the depths of the Bckpon Thicket—a new, dark fme growing in a pce that had only ever been wild.
Just then, the cloud cover broke, and the moon, now a perfect, radiant orb, shone down on her, bathing her in its light. The power of the full moon didn't tear her apart as it once had; instead, it fused with the Dame's runes. There was no snapping of bone, no tearing of flesh. Instead, it felt like liquid mercury flooding her system—cold, heavy, and invincible.Her body swelled, not with the jagged agony of biological rebellion, but with the smooth, hydraulic expansion of absolute power. The silver filigree on her skin acted as a containment field, holding the pain at bay, transmuting the bone-breaking horror into a hum of pure adrenaline. Her cws slid out with the metallic shing of drawn swords rather than the wet tear of nails. For the first time, she didn't feel like a woman trapped in a beast; she felt like Mother Moon herself donning her armor. The st shred of doubt, the st ounce of fear, evaporated in the moonlight. A warrior and protector let loose a guttural roar that shook the very stones of the keep. She unched herself into the air, a blur of ashen fur and purpose, descending on the bridge below.
She arrived at the Keep's main bridge, a massive structure of enchanted stone that had stood for centuries. The Fey Court's siege engines were works of dark art, giant scorpions of twisting wood and iron, their tails a sling that unched balls of compressed starlight. They pulsed with a cold, pale light that cast grotesque shadows on the Fae warriors who commanded them.
Amber let out another roar, a sound that was both a challenge and a release. She hit the ground running, a streak of ashen fur and glowing runes. The Fae knights, expecting a defense of archers and mages, were caught completely off guard. The lycanthrope tore through the first line, her cws sshing through enchanted chainmail as easily as paper. She was a whirlwind of controlled chaos, using her dispcement ability to flicker from one spot to another, disorienting the knights before striking with brutal force. She wasn't fighting for survival; she was fighting to win.
The siege engines were next, and she felt the full weight of their arcane power pressing in on her, a palpable resistance that she tore into with glee. She leaped onto the nearest one, her cws digging into the solid wood. The Fae operators, a mix of Winter and Summer Court Knights, shrieked as she tore at the machinery. The runes on her body fshed brighter, a low hum now a high, keening tone of raw power, and with a grunt of savage effort, she ripped a massive piston from its housing. The machine shuddered, then colpsed in on itself with a splintering crack and a fsh of dying starlight. The light was beautiful, but it was the beauty of a colpsing star, a brief moment of majesty before the cold void of silence.
She moved with an unnerving, predatory focus, bringing down one siege engine after another. The Fae warriors, a mix of Winter and Summer Court Knights, had no answer for her. The Summer knights were too brash, their fiery swords gncing harmlessly off her armored fur as she moved with a calcuted grace they couldn't hope to match. The Winter knights, with their cold, precise attacks, found their icy spears and biting winds simply dissolving against the warm, humming energy of her runes. With each machine she toppled, the bridge became a graveyard of twisted metal and shattered wood, a monument to the fury she had unleashed.
Silence fell, broken only by the whimpers of the wounded and the groans of the colpsing machinery. The remaining Fae, their assault broken, retreated in disarray, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. They didn't even look back, their faces a mask of pure terror. Amber stood alone on the bridge, chest heaving, her ashen fur matted with grime and blood. The adrenaline was starting to fade, and a strange, profound sense of peace settled over her. She looked at the castle, now safe, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a quiet, powerful sense of accomplishment. She had done it, and she had done it all on her own terms.
Her moment of triumph was short-lived. A new scent hit her on the wind: the metallic tang of silver and the earthy scent of unwashed humans. They weren't fairies. They were Kimorans. A band of them, a patrol of goons drawn by the noise and the chance to capitalize on the chaos, emerged from the treeline. Their armor, dull and dented, was trimmed with silver.
She considered hiding, but the thought was a fleeting one. She had nothing to hide anymore. She stood her ground, muscles coiled, ready for the next fight. The Kimorans, seeing the wreckage and the lone beast standing over it, looked at each other with greedy, confused eyes. One of them, a heavy-set man with a mace, charged first. She met him head-on, deflecting his blow with an armored forearm and tearing into his side.
A second man, a scout with a silver-tipped spear, thrust at her. The spear found purchase, a dull prick against her thigh. A year ago, that touch of silver would have been agony, forcing her to change back, but now… there was nothing. No pain, no loss of power. The rune on her leg pulsed, and the silver simply slid away from her skin as if repelled by a magnetic force. A grin split her face, followed by a sneer. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but the Dame's protections were working. The monarch was upholding her end of the bargain.
And then, a cold, distant presence brushed against her mind. It wasn't a voice, but a feeling—the sense of being watched from afar. The Dame. A silent, pleased observer. This was the one aspect of the new magic she hated. The price for this power was a bond that tethered her to the very person she despised, a silent, knowing eye on her every move. Amber held her own, a terrifying force of nature, but more and more of them kept coming.
The men who had been trying to kill her with silver now swapped out their weapons for nets and thick ropes. They’d realized their mistake, seeing her as not just a threat, but a prize. The grin vanished from Amber’s face, repced by a snarl of arm as she was caught off-guard. She swiped at one net, only to have it turn into a web of glowing silver chains that wrapped around her arm. She tore her arm free, but not without effort. It was a new strategy, and she was struggling to adapt. Then, from the trees, a new wave of Kimorans appeared—not goons, but uniformed Zealots, their banners rippling in the wind. These were the fanatics, the ones with a special hatred for all things touched by magic, and they arrived in overwhelming numbers. A volley of silver-tipped arrows rained down on her, and while they didn’t penetrate her armored hide, they stuck to her fur, their magic draining her energy with every second they remained. Her movements became sluggish, her dispcement ability failing with each new arrow.
The net-wielding Zealots moved in, their faces grimly determined, and she was brought to her knees by the sheer weight of their numbers. She was a beast, but she was still only one, and they were a relentless tide. Just as a rge, intricate net of woven silver was about to drop on her, a fsh of red and gold erupted from the forest. A cacophony of sound followed—the ringing of bells, the screech of whistles, and the furious csh of steel against steel. It was the Court of Wanderlust, a motley crew of rogues, knights, and mages who had somehow survived the onsught. At their head was Donny, a whirlwind of bdes and fury, a beacon in the twilight. She cut a swathe through the Zealots, her eyes fixed on Amber.The knight’s presence was a balm to Amber's weary spirit. She had a look of cold, furious purpose. The fight ended with a flurry of strikes from Beldonna's sword, leaving the surviving humans scattered and broken and fleeting to the treeline.
Amber turned towards Beldonna with her heart hammering as if she was tearing apart another siege engine. Her lover’s emerald eyes scanned the massive Azhari form, covered in fairy and human blood alike, glowing with the filigreed mark of the Court of Wanderlust. Her breathing low, and controlled as Donny took a step forward, reaching out a paw to the lycanthrope. Amber took a hesitant step back, the storm of shame inside of her welling up again. She wanted to speak, to apologize, to expin, but all that came out were whimpers and a low anxious rumble of a noise from her throat.
“You’re so beautiful.” Donny interjected, cutting through Amber’s anxiety with a knife of empathy. Her heart soared and she couldn’t help but reach out her cws to yank Donny close, who let out an uncharacteristic “eep” as her monstrous girlfriend pulled her close. “Hey Am, I love you too. But we can save it for ter. We’re not done yet.” Amber, still in her beast form, nodded enthusiastically. But then a thought hit her mind, and she shifted and nudged Beldonna's cheek with her snout. Her glowing eyes stared at Donny with a silent question.
"I didn't," Beldonna replied, her voice soft but firm. "Why would I walk away from the gift of time with you?" She met Amber's gaze, her eyes a mix of pain and fierce determination. "Darling, I couldn't imagine becoming mortal now and dying to a stray arrow when a new life together is so close."
She spoke with a hint of awe, a dawning realization that her very purpose was shifting. "I feel… I feel as though she's experiencing a shred of empathy. She's been on the raw end of the deal, and she's hoping this experience sticks with her if we survive." Beldonna’s hand stroked Amber's fnk, her touch a familiar comfort. "I am still deathless, and still bound to the Dame. But more than that, I am happily, willingly, free of any contracts, deals, and oaths - bound to you my love. All of you. I wish to be with you free from obligation, full of our desires."
A single, triumphant tear slid down Amber's furry cheek. She pushed her head into Beldonna's chest, a silent vow to her heart, her soul, and her future. Beldonna wrapped an arm around Amber's neck, the embrace both a comfort and a show of strength. When she finally pulled away, her expression was all business. “Onward to the Bckpon, I fear our time grows thin.”
Amber shifted, taking in a deep breath of the air. The scent of blood and magic was thick, but beneath it, she could smell it. The raw, acrid scent of a ritual gone wrong. Beldonna's breath hitched, a faint tremor running through her. She said nothing, but a fresh wave of fear, one that spoke of nightmares and ancient secrets, washed over her.
A young, red-haired knight, her face smudged with soot and sweat, approached them with a weary bow. "Lady Beldonna," she said, her voice hoarse. "The High Court's primary force is in retreat; we have traced them to a few nearby portals. What are your commands?" Donny's gaze didn't leave Amber. She reached up and stroked the side of her beast's face. Amber leaned into the touch, a low, contented rumble in her chest. "Drive them back and then secure the keep," Donny said, her voice a low and commanding purr. "Post patrols on the bridge and the walls. A small contingent is to go out and sweep the perimeter. I want every shadow and every crevice checked. Report back to the captain with any signs of Fae or Kimoran activity."
"And you, my dy?" the knight asked, her eyes flicking nervously to Amber. Donny finally looked away from Amber, her eyes hardening with a chilling resolve. She pointed to the column of sickly red smoke in the distance.
"Amber and I are going to the Bckpon Thicket." The knight's eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing her face. "But, my dy, that's..." "I know what it is," Donny cut her off, her voice low and dangerous. "It is a wound on this nd, and it must be healed. No more talk. Do as I command." The knight flinched, then bowed deeply, her face a mask of understanding. She turned and vanished into the shadows, a murmur of orders following in her wake. Donny looked at Amber, her expression a mix of love and grim determination. She didn't have to say anything; Amber knew what she wanted. She let out a soft huff of acknowledgment and turned, her muscur legs moving with a practiced ease toward the forest. Donny, with her bdes at the ready, fell into step beside her, the two of them a silent, formidable pair heading into the heart of the corrupted forest. The scent of blood and magic hung heavy in the air, a grim promise of what was to come.
