Ch. 17

“Obstinate”

Trembling, I step toward the water’s edge, my head ringing like a bell struck too hard. Each pulse sends a ripple of disorientation through me, the world blurring at the edges. The spikes along my spine glow a deep purple, crackling with hints of lights, as if the energy within me is both a warning and a promise. I can sense Zanir still beyond the trees, his minty scent growing stronger, an intoxicating mix of danger and allure that sets my heart racing.

The damp air is heavy with anticipation, fastening to my fur as I draw closer to the lake’s surface, where the water lies still, unlike the chaos within and the depths of the forest. My mist returns, swirling into a tight circle around me — a shield once more, cocooning me in a veil of ethereal energy. It dances in the air, catching the faint light of the dawn, casting shadows that flicker across the ground like ghostly whispers.

The spikes along my spine hum with deep purple light, a crackling undercurrent that feels like both a warning and a promise. The water’s pull tugs at something deep, like an ancient memory surfacing, pressing me to confront the darkness sealed away behind my mental door.

A low crack echoes through the forest as my bones shift, snapping back into place. My legs emerge first, skin pale from too many days locked inside, all because I disobeyed Mother’s rules. The cool air brushes against my skin, invigorating and electric, as my arms soon follow. Tattoos of creatures I have slain ink themselves across my flesh, marking the bond with the beast. Each one pulses as if alive, evidence of our power — my power. The water glimmers invitingly, reflecting my transformation, urging me to embrace the strength that lies within, even though that feels impossible sometimes.

As I watch, my fingers shift and reshape, the bones snapping and reforming into something else — my true form. I focus on my hands, and on my left wrist, the Samca now rests, and its binding rune, a reminder of the dark spirit’s master lingering influence. I’ll need to show Oana when I return to the castle, back behind the same stone walls again. Halfy’s bond, etched on my left index finger, feels like a familiar warmth. I feel the spikes along my back smooth out, and I know the protective runes Mother placed are in full view. I guess their powers, sadly, were useless against vampires.

Wavy strands of black hair, tinted with the faint purples Mother gave me, cling to my face and shoulders, sticky with crusted blood. I’m drenched in it — red blood from the buck, and dark, almost black rotten blood from the Samca. I feel it running down my mouth, now free of fangs. Wiping the corners of my lips with the back of my hand, I finish shifting into my true form and head toward the water. I need to wash away the dread of killing, though I know I would do it all again if needed. I regret nothing. Not anymore.

Sharp cold trickles into my bones, while the wind slices across the water’s surface. My mist fades into the water, dissipating in the chill. Deeper, the lake pulls me in. The repetitive motion of the small waves lap against my legs, pushing back as if to deter me. Despite the clarity near the shore, the water ahead is darker, swallowing everything below the surface.

The winds whistle through the trees behind me and rattling the branches before they push through the waves and graze my skin. Fierce and unforgiving, the brisk air bites my lungs with each breath, matching the daggers of ice in my veins.

My muscles tense, fighting the cold invading my skin. This cold doesn’t abuse my sense of self like the one inside me. My pupils dilate, adjusting, and I can feel my blood quickening, a surge of warmth battling the chill.

“Mihaela, the little bat…” His voice is barely more than a whisper, carried on the autumn breeze.

The water is at my chest now, and as I sink lower, my fingers trail along the surface, numb from the cold. Even the wisps have returned, dancing beside me, illuminating my fingertips as they pass. I face the mountain range ahead, my rune-covered back to Zanir. My mist, my shield — gone. All that remains is the raw, exposed feeling he brings and my sense of being fully vulnerable. Yet I refuse to let it show.

With a steady exhale, I turn and confront the creature that dared disturb me in the fading night, interrupting my stillness — my moment after the rage, after the beast — my relief. No castle, no Mother, no duties, no scouts or guards. Just me, my true self, letting the water take it all.

My hair clings to my cheek, tendrils sticking like wet threads as water trickles from my brows, tracing the bitter lines down my face. I blink through the droplets and spot him, standing just past the tree line. He lingers at the edge of the shadows, as if tethered to them, needing the darkness as much as his lungs needed oxygen.

“Definitely not…a little bat.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval while remaining in the protection of the shadows.

“Zanir, most mortal men would run the moment they saw a woman bare in the Endless Forest. After all, many creatures use this guise to lure men into the depths, to devour them.” I glide back toward the shore, my shoulders rising from the water with calculated, causal grace, letting the subtle hint of my bare form remain just out of reach. “But then again, considering you’ve already proven yourself to be rather reckless with warnings.” My muscles twitch as the cold air slices through each water droplet that clings on my skin.

I pause.

Usually, I am fully dressed before shifting. But since the last time I shifted was into my beast form, let’s just say my clothes didn’t survive the experience. When the beast is out to play, they’re often shredded beyond recognition. Besides, who wants to wear the same clothes for weeks on end, anyway? I am not some kind of wild animal…at least not all the time.

Zanir emerges from the shadows as if the darkness that lingers is reluctant to release him, but then his movements are deliberate as if still commands the shadows to part just for him — but I know that is not possible. Zanir steps fully out from the trees’ shadows, as though my words lured him out. His torn shirt flutters with the passing breeze, while the shadows — not his shadows — cling to the branches. His cerulean eyes lock onto mine, that familiar flame raging behind them, now on the verge of bursting.

“Can’t say I’d mind being lured,” he says, a small smirk playing on his lips. I hiss in disgust, but he continues unperturbed. “Curiosity made me mortal, so I am destined for trouble.” His grin grows. “I recall Samcas having a taste for children and women, but they aren’t known to pass up a nice mortal snack. But I don’t see the Samca anymore…” He pretends to wipe something off his tattered shirt, clearly enjoying my scrutinizing graze. “I do have to admit, though, I quite like how you say my name. Say it again.”

I growl, and then I dive. The water’s cold claws drag at my skin, pulling me under. For a moment, I linger in the clear depths, where everything is still and silent., dark and safe. Blood clouds around me, fading into the black. I need this, to wash it all away — the blood, the killing, even Zanir’s relentless stare — unwelcomed, relentless, stripping away everything I used to protect myself. I hate it. No, I despise it.

As I break the surface, my lavender eyes shine like a siren stalking its prey, only eyes visible above the water before luring them to the depths when a soothing voice. At the shoreline, I spot a rock, its surface marked with familiar oddly shaped moss.

“Hmm…” He mutters. “I understand why your mother named you after, one who is like a god now…” 

I groan and start trudging up the shore. “Knocking? Before invading one’s privacy? Ever heard of it?” I snap, frustrated from my moment being interrupted, my peace ruined. A gust of wind blows my hair off my back, making my irritation even more obvious.

Without missing a beat, he turns his back to me, strolls to the nearest tree, and casually knocks on the bark with his fist. I can feel my eyes roll so far back, I might lose them. Mother is going to be overjoyed about another smart-ass entering her castle walls. Goddess Nyx helps us.

I continue up the shore, water dripping from me as the air slices into my skin. My muscles tremble, the wind causing tears to fall from my eyes. I inhale deeply, savoring the cold as it courses through me, brushing across my skin. I shiver, starting at my nose and rippling down to my feet, a chill I embrace — unlike the change stirring beneath my skin, within my veins. The cold outside is simple, clean, and natural. Something remarkable, something that calls for me. A small gasp escapes me as the shiver slips away, carried by the wind, moving on to someone else who may need it.

I feel Zanir’s eyes fixated on me as I look sharply in his direction. He is leaning against the same tree he knocked on, his cerulean eyes locked on mine, burning with intensity. My cold lavender meets his fiery stare. My hard stare is met with a mere smirk before he turns his eyes to the lake.

“You know,” I begin, reaching for the satchel I buried earlier. “You think you would be more cautious around something who took... something precious from you — who can shift, control the elements, and made even a Samca disappear.”

The satchel now rests in one of my hands and I wave my other across it, it expands, growing to a size more fitting for true form. I sense his gaze drifting toward me again, and I cut through the cold air with my comfortable, sharp look. “And knows a handful of spells.” Like two, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He glances up at the night sky, watching the stars beginning to fade. “Something precious, yes, but I am getting something in return.” He shifts his position against the tree. “I was only meeting with Muma Padurii before that got interrupted…”

I feel my eyes narrow towards him. One does not simply meet with the mother of the forest — A witch who meets with no one.

Zanir continues, “She was scared off by something — or someone.” He nods his head towards me. “Then this thing catches my attention. Doesn’t flee from me, my shadows, or my darkness…but bites me.” He chuckles.

I scoff loudly. Missing some important details.

Zanir carries on with a smile on his face. “Later, I am chased by their bonded beast — a formidable Akhlut, no less. It laid on them, while their tattooed humanlike hands peaked out from beneath him.”

I feel my body jerk, not from the cold.

“Then, they help me relive mortal memories that I had long forgotten.” Zanir’s voice trails off in the wind as his eyes drift to the soothing lake.

I turn my back to him, reaching into my satchel to retrieve a white button-down shirt, black pants, a dark-tinted royal tunic, warm socks, plain undergarments, and long black boots. I can sense Zanir’s eyes move back to me, even with my back turned. The burning sensation of being open and exposed remains tangible.

Zanir keeps going, “Suddenly they vanish into the night, only to return when their beast howls into the sky, ready to confront a lured Samca. And this something comes back as a beast themselves, radiating power. They move through the air like a mist, a blur. Their scent is so potent that it could stop even the god Erebus in his tracks — a bitterness that cuts through everything, with just a hint of lavender, barely noticeable. This power wraps around them and the Samca like a shield, a barrier. Within moments, the barrier mystifies, and the Samca is pulled into the lake’s depths by their beast, their Akhlut…” His voice lowers, as if speaking these words makes them less real, like a dream or fantasy.

But this is not an illusion or a dream, no, it’s a nightmare of my reality. The blood of the Samca is still under my fingernails, as my claws dug into its chest. A grim reminder of how I ripped its throat out, standing over its lifeless form, of how easily the beast inside and I can take life, even if that life is technically undead.

“After all that, this someone or thing transforms into what I believe is their truest form, covered in markings and tattoos…” Zanir pauses as if he can sense the challenge in my silence. His stare is marked, reading the unspoken words in my eyes. “Can you blame me for being curious? A creature like you, with this much…” His smirk widens, daring me to react. “Astounding creature you are.” He knows he’s stuck a nerve, and that infuriating confidence feels like it was designed to unearth my secrets — secrets I would rather keep behind lock and key. “Strange, isn’t it? The way your true self is slowly unraveling, like peeling back layers of secrecy.”

I exhale strongly, a snarl splitting through my clenched teeth. Turning toward Zanir, I notice he is just out of range, even with my rock-throwing skills. Fortunately for him, there is no convenient small rock in sight, too. At least he is learning I am not above throwing things. A small, subtle chuckle escapes me. Fear me, mortal vampire man. I think though I do not voice it.

I hear a soft snicker behind me and my face scrunches in annoyance. Leaning against the large odd rock where I buried my satchel, I start pulling on my undergarments and then shove one leg into the dark pants I packed. I could swear I hear Zanir grumble in response. Scowling, I snarl in his direction, baring my teeth of my true form. They might not be as intimidating as my beast’s fangs, but I’ll rip anyone to shreds if I choose — regardless of the forms I am in.

“First, don’t call me astounding unless you are certain I have no weapons.” I glare at him, my eyes as cold as the ice that pumps inside. I see the flames in his eyes intensify and the corners of his mouth twitch. “If I am breathing, I am a weapon.” I stand, buttoning my pants and reaching for my white shirt. “Second, Halfy is not the creature you should fear. I can climb trees — or at least turn into something that can.” I smirk at my bumptiousness. “Third…” I say as my shirt clings to damp form. “If you look at me without my permission again, I’ll take something even more precious from you.” I pull on the warm socks and long boots I packed, feeling their comfort and warmth like a cozy hearth. “Fourth…” I glance back at Zanir. He is now staring at the sky, biting his lip, clearly weighing his options but remaining silent — for now. “You talk too much. Try thinking before you speak.”

Peering eyes and ears are always a possibility, and Zanir is airing out all our business — my business. I glance back at the lake. What is taking Halfy so long?

I reach for the dark tunic and wrap it around me, savoring its thickness against my freezing skin and the cold that seeps inside and out. My hair flows in the wind, but I can feel the water dripping from it. I begin braiding my hair down to a point, the gloomy purple hues catching the light of wisps that float around. I wrap the braid around and tuck it under the rest of my hair.

I finish and then say, “I much preferred your approach toward me more as a bat, by the way.” I lean back against the rock, now fully clothed, fully transformed into the Mihaela that everyone at the castle knows.

Zanir turns from looking at the sky and faces me once more. “I could say the same about you.” He tilts his head, a spark in his eyes that says he is enjoying this more than I am. I let a snarl slip free, low, and dark because something tells me this back-and-forth isn’t ending anytime soon. “May I ask something?” His voice cuts through my focus, snapping me back to him, his gaze steady and unflinching.

Again, talking too much. But at least he asked first.