Kamrynn’s POV
The third day finally arrived, dragging itself along as if to test my patience. Each tick of the clock felt like a taunt. When the driver finally pulled up in front of Marwynn’s secluded cottage, my stomach churned with nerves. Intrusive thoughts clawed at my mind like restless shadows. What if this doesn’t work? What if Aryna’s gone forever? What if I’m left broken-again?
Beside me, Rmonica must have sensed my unease. Her warm hand closed over mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” she said softly, her voice steady and confident. “I can feel it in my gut. Aryna’s waiting for you, Kamrynn.”
Her certainty was comforting, even if I couldn’t quite share it. “Thanks, Rmonica,” I murmured. “I hope you’re right.”
She tilted her head with a small smile. “I know I’m right.”
The car came to a halt, and as we stepped out, Marwynn appeared in the doorway. Her sharp eyes, as piercing as ever, studied us both. She nodded in greeting, her presence calm but undeniably commanding. “Kamrynn. Luna,” she said simply, her voice carrying that enigmatic weight she always seemed to exude.
“Thank you for agreeing to help her,” Rmonica said sincerely, her tone filled with warmth and gratitude.
Marwynn inclined her head slightly. “It is not every day one finds a soul willing to endure what must be done,” she said. “Come in.”
We followed her inside. The cottage felt just as it had three days ago: cozy yet cloaked in mystery. The air was thick with the scent of dried herbs, flickering candles, and something faintly metallic that lingered at the edges of my senses. Marwynn gestured toward the living room with a practiced sweep of her hand.
“Luna Rmonica,” she began, her tone calm but resolute, “you’ll wait here. The ritual requires privacy.”
Rmonica’s brow furrowed slightly, her concern evident. “I don’t like the idea of her going through this alone.”
“She will not be alone,” Marwynn replied, her gaze flicking to me with an almost knowing intensity. “She has herself, and she will have her wolf. Trust in that.”
There was something reassuring in her words, even if I didn’t fully understand them. Rmonica hesitated for a moment longer before sighing and nodding. “Alright. Kamrynn, I’ll be right here when it’s over. Good luck.” Her hand brushed mine again, a gentle, grounding touch.
“Thanks,” I whispered, steeling myself as Marwynn beckoned me to follow her deeper into the cottage. My steps were heavy, my heart thundering with anticipation and fear. Whatever lay ahead, I knew I couldn’t turn back now.
Marwynn led me into a small, traditional bathroom that felt like stepping into another world. The walls were made of rough-hewn wood, with faint etchings of runes carved into them. A wooden bathtub, intricately adorned with carvings of wolves and crescent moons, sat in the center of the room, radiating an old-world charm. The tub was filled with clean, sparkling water that shimmered faintly under the glow of a single candle perched on a nearby ledge. Beside it, a wooden stool held an array of medicinal plants with vibrant leaves, small bottles filled with potions of varying hues, and a sharp, glinting knife that caught the dim light ominously.
Marwynn gestured to the tub with an air of authority. “Strip,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I hesitated, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Naked?” I asked, instinctively folding my arms over my swollen belly.
Her sharp gaze pierced through my discomfort. “You came here to reclaim your wolf, did you not? Strip. The water must touch every inch of you.”
Her no-nonsense tone left no room for protest. I nodded, fumbling with the ties of my dress. My protruding belly made the task awkward, and I struggled to pull the fabric over my head. Marwynn stood silently, her focus entirely on the ritual preparations, giving me a small mercy in my vulnerable state. Finally, I stood bare before her, feeling exposed and self-conscious.
“Into the tub,” she instructed, her voice calm but firm.
I took a tentative step forward, dipping my toes into the water. A sharp, icy chill shot up my leg, making me gasp. “It’s freezing,” I protested, my teeth clenching as I eased further into the tub.
“Cold is necessary,” Marwynn said simply, her voice devoid of sympathy. “Sit.”
Gritting my teeth, I lowered myself into the water, shivering as the icy liquid enveloped me. The cold seemed to seep into my very bones, and I fought the urge to jump back out. I gripped the edges of the tub tightly as Marwynn moved to the stool and picked up a bundle of herbs.
She began chanting in a strange, lilting language, her voice rising and falling like a song carried on the wind. The words were foreign, each syllable laden with power, and I could feel their weight as they echoed around the small room. One by one, she added the medicinal plants and potions into the water. The liquid began to change, the shimmering clarity giving way to a murky, unsettling gray.
At first, the water tingled against my skin. Then, without warning, the tingling turned into an intense, fiery burn. It felt as if molten lead were pouring over me, searing through my flesh and into my very bones. A strangled cry escaped my lips, and I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tears streamed down my face as the pain grew unbearable, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from screaming.