I stumbled through the doorway of the cottage, my head still spinning from the visions that had bombarded me—the weight of everything I had seen pressing down on my chest. The air inside the cottage was thick with tension, the voices of Angela, Eric, Frej, and Mathew rising and falling as they discussed what felt like a never-ending list of failed hopes.

Angela's words sliced through the air, sharp and full of frustration. "This is ridiculous!" she snapped, her fists clenched against the table. "We came here expecting allies, and they ignored us! The elves are supposed to be more powerful than this. They have magic, they have knowledge, and yet they do nothing while everything around us falls apart!"

Mathew was seated next to her, calm but resigned. "We can't change what's been said, Angela. They're not going to help us. We need to figure out another way."

Frej, arms crossed, was leaning back in his chair. His face was as grim as his tone. "We've been here long enough. If the elves aren't going to fight, we find our own way. The village has made its stance clear."

I didn't say anything. I just stood there, frozen in the doorway, my mind too clouded with the dark visions that had assaulted me. The elf woman had shown me everything—the truth about my mother, the dark magic she used to control my father, the connection to Roland's wife, how she, too, was the vessel of the same darkness. But none of it felt real, and all of it felt too big to share. My heart pounded in my chest, and I couldn't shake the image of that monstrous being, the puppeteer pulling all the strings.

I watched Mathew, his face unreadable as he continued to speak, but it felt like he was worlds away. No one else seemed to notice me standing there, until Eric finally turned his gaze toward me.

"Adrian?" His voice was low, full of concern, and I felt a flicker of something—guilt? Relief? I couldn't tell. "Are you alright?"

I hesitated. I wanted to say something, anything, but my mouth felt dry, my body too tense to form words. I couldn't speak. The weight of everything I'd just learned, everything I was supposed to become, hung in the air like a heavy fog.

Eric stepped closer, his eyes scanning my face. "You don't look well," he said softly, his brow furrowed. "What happened?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, I just stood there, caught in the whirlwind of thoughts and visions that still felt like they were spiraling around me. My knees wavered, and for a moment, I thought I might collapse right there on the floor.

Mathew stood up, his chair scraping lightly against the wooden floor. I barely registered the movement until he was right in front of me, his eyes searching my face with an intensity that mirrored Eric's concern. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together, and for the first time, I could see the same unease in him that had been present in Eric's voice.

He placed a hand gently on my shoulder, his touch grounding, even if just for a moment. "Come, have a seat," he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. "Just... breathe. You're safe here."

I nodded numbly, though I could hardly feel anything in that moment but the weight of the visions, the horrors I'd witnessed. My thoughts were tangled and disjointed, like they were still trapped in the dream-world the elven woman had shown me. The darkness still loomed over me, and I couldn't shake the cold feeling in my chest. I wasn't sure if I could trust anything anymore—not after what I'd learned, not after what I'd seen.

Mathew's presence, though comforting, felt distant. I wanted to lean into him, to feel like things might be okay again, but the truth that had been thrust upon me kept me locked in place.

Mathew's hand on my shoulder remained steady, his touch like a silent anchor, but I couldn't find my way back to him—not yet. The words of the elven woman echoed in my head, reminding me of the power I was supposed to harness. The very power that had destroyed my mother, the magic that had twisted everything in my life. My heart clenched painfully, and I didn't know how to answer him.

I slowly lowered myself into a nearby chair, my legs shaking, and exhaled slowly, as if to release the breath I had been holding for far too long. But nothing about this felt real. Nothing about this felt like it would end in anything but tragedy.

Eric's voice broke through the thick silence, low and steady. "Adrian, please tell us what happened."

I looked at him, at the quiet strength in his eyes, but even his pleading eyes seemed distant now. I could still see the figure from the visions in my mind—the puppeteer, the one pulling the strings. The very presence of that darkness lingered in the back of my mind, growing more real by the second. And the terrifying thought that no one, not even Mathew, could understand what I was carrying inside me... it was unbearable.

"Adrian," Mathew said, his voice softer now, as he crouched in front of me, his eyes locking with mine. "Please..."

I swallowed hard, fighting the lump that had formed in my throat. I wanted to tell him, but the weight of everything I had seen, everything I had learned—it made it hard to believe that anyone could truly understand what we were facing. Not even Mathew. Not even the man who had been at my side through everything.

But still, there was a part of me that reached for the comfort in his words, for the promise that he would be there, no matter what. I took a shaky breath, my fingers gripping the edge of the chair. "I learned something," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I don't know how to tell you."

Mathew's gaze softened, his hand still resting on my shoulder, as if to remind me that he was here. "Whatever it is, we can figure it out," he said again, his voice steady. "We're all here. You have us."

And in that moment, I clung to his words, and so I told them... everything.

The words spilled out of me before I could stop them, each one heavy with the weight of what I had seen. The visions. The darkness. The truth about my mother and the magic that had consumed her, twisted her into something unrecognizable. How it had all started with her hatred, how it had spread to my father, to the war against the lycans, and how, in the end, it had all led me here, to this point. I told them about the elven woman, the visions she had shown me, and how everything seemed to be connected—how Roland's wife, the vessel of the same darkness, was now playing the same game my mother had once played.

Mathew stayed quiet as I spoke, his grip on my shoulder tightening slightly, but he said nothing. His eyes never left me, and I could feel his presence, steady and unyielding, as if he were grounding me to the present, keeping me tethered while the storm inside me raged.

Angela and Frej were still as I spoke, their expressions unreadable. I couldn't look at them too long—I couldn't bear the thought of their judgment or disbelief, not after everything I had just uncovered. But when I finally did glance over, I saw something flicker in their eyes—something like understanding, but also concern. It was Eric, though, who surprised me. He leaned forward, his face tight with tension as he absorbed every word, and when I finished, he exhaled slowly, as if the air had been sucked from the room.

"That's..." His voice faltered for a moment. "That's a lot to take in, Adrian."

I nodded, feeling the exhaustion in my bones. The visions had drained me, but it was more than that—it was the weight of everything that had come to light. My mother's actions. The dark magic that had tainted everything, including me. It was too much, too fast, and now, I couldn't stop the flood of thoughts racing through my mind. Could I truly fight it? Could I stop what had already been set in motion?

Mathew leaned in closer, his voice soft but firm. "You're not alone in this. We'll figure out what we need to do next. Whatever it takes, we'll find a way to stop this."

I closed my eyes, breathing in slowly, trying to steady my racing heart. His words were comforting, but a small part of me couldn't help but doubt. The magic, the darkness, it wasn't something that could be easily stopped. It had consumed my mother, and it would do the same to me if I let it.

But as I opened my eyes and met Mathew's gaze, I saw something I hadn't realized I needed—belief. His belief in me, in us, was something solid, something I could hold on to. And for the first time in days, I allowed myself to believe it, too. Maybe we could figure this out. Maybe, together, we could find a way to stop the darkness that had been chasing us all.

"I'm scared," I whispered, barely audible. "I don't know how to do this."

Mathew's grip on my shoulder tightened, and he pulled me into a quiet embrace, his voice steady and calm. "We'll figure it out. Together."