Chapter 28: Call to Protect

ARIADNE

few days ago

I press my back against the thick, twisted trunk of the old oak, feeling the bark scratch through my shirt and seep its chill into my bones. 

There's an almost sacred stillness in this spot, deep in the woods where even birds seem hesitant to sing. It's the only place I've found that holds my memories as closely as I do, wrapping them in silence, allowing me to visit each one without judgment.

For a while, I let myself think about those memories, about the life I had before. A life full of warmth, laughter, and voices that filled every quiet corner. 

My father's low, steady voice would hum lullabies to us at night, and my mother's laughter was this light, easy sound that seemed to melt all my worries away. And then there was my brother, with his wide-eyed innocence, his endless questions about the world, his fascination with everything. 

We were so close, woven together by threads of love, bound in a way that felt indestructible. But that bond was severed in a single, horrifying night.

It's strange, really, the moments I remember most clearly — the scent of bread baking, the tickle of my mother's long hair as she leaned over to hug me, the way my father's hands were always warm, no matter the season. My brother's little hand would slip into mine when we went to sleep, and it always made me feel safe, made me feel that I wasn't alone. 

And now, I'm haunted by the silence that came after them, by the gaping void that's left where they should be.

My chest tightens, and I force myself to breathe slowly, to keep the pain at bay. But memories are fickle things, and they take me where they want. Soon, I'm pulled into the darkness of that night, the night when everything I loved was torn from me.

We'd been running for weeks by then. My parents said it was only temporary, just until things "calmed down." But I could see the fear etched into their faces. 

The way they spoke in hushed tones, the way they always kept us moving, always on edge.

I was young, but I wasn't blind. I knew something was after us, something that terrified even them.

I was thirteen when they caught us, and I remember every agonizing detail of that night. 

How the air seemed to thicken, how the shadows twisted and grew as if alive, how a terrible, unnatural silence fell over us.

And then she appeared — the witch. Her face was pale, her eyes dark and hungry, her presence like a black hole, drawing all the warmth and life out of the air around her. Her followers flanked her, silent and unfeeling, bound to her power.

They bound us with ropes laced in dark magic that burned against my skin, forcing us to our knees. My father tried to resist, tried to fight them off, but the witch silenced him with a flick of her fingers, a cruel smile twisting her face. 

I couldn't move, couldn't scream, could only watch as she turned her gaze on my mother, her fingers stretching out with this twisted sort of adoration, as if she were handling a precious artifact, something she was looking for a long time and finally got it only for herself to use.

My mother's power was something the witch wanted — the Lament, she called it. My mother always taught us it was a gift. But to that wretched creature,it was just a means to claim more power.

I didn't fully understand what she meant, but I felt the horror of it deep in my bones, the dread that filled me as I realized she was draining her, pulling their very essence from her while she gasped and grew weaker, fading before my eyes. When my brother started to cry, seeing this, she just moved her finger and an invisible force sliced his throat.

Then my father, a mere human, did something incredible. By sheer force of will, he broke the spell that bound him and lunged at her. I don't really know what he was thinking in that moment, but he barely managed a few steps before she killed him too.

I was helpless, bound and voiceless, forced to watch as my family, my whole world, slipped away. 

Their lives were stolen in front of me. My heart broke that night, a raw, shattering pain that ripped through me. The scream that left my throat was like a wound torn open, a sound that held every ounce of my grief, my rage, my despair. 

And as the witch's magic finally released me, leaving me to the silence, I knew I'd been left behind.

Somehow, I survived. I don't know how or why. But I woke up alone, surrounded by ashes. Every trace of my family was gone, leaving me with only a single, burning purpose to keep me going: to make them suffer, to destroy witches who have done this to my family.

I hear him before I see him — Ciaran's footsteps, swift and deliberate, breaking the silence of the forest. 

Few people know where to find me, and fewer would dare come out here, so I know it's him even before he emerges from between the trees. He looks tense, his usual calm rattled, and a new edge to his expression makes me stand a little straighter. 

Something is wrong, something more than just the usual murmurings of the supernatural underworld.

"Ariadne," he says, his voice tight as he steps closer. He looks like he's come a long way, his coat splattered with mud, his dark hair wind-tousled, and hazel eyes tired. "I need your help."

I cross my arms, studying him carefully. "That's a bold request, Ciaran, especially after how long you've stayed silent."

He winces, but he's not here to argue. "I just spoke to Siobhan. It's Maeve," he says, as if that should mean something to me. But his eyes are pleading, a raw urgency flickering in them that I haven't seen before. "She… might be like you."

"Like me?" The words hit a nerve, and I feel my jaw tighten. This legacy, this curse, has been mine alone to carry for years. It's left scars I've carefully hidden, a life built on solitary purpose and self-protection. 

And now he's telling me there's someone else, some girl out there who could share this burden with me? 

I almost laugh at the absurdity of it, but there's something desperate in his expression that stills my tongue.

"She doesn't know what she is,but from what you have told me about yourself some things, well… there are many similarities" he continues, his tone softening. "And she's surrounded by dangers she can't even see. I don't know all the details yet, but Siobhan says Maeve's facing things that could destroy her." He looks at me, almost pleading. "She needs guidance, Ariadne. She needs someone who understands what she's dealing with."

I feel a familiar wall rise up inside me, a lifetime's worth of hesitation and mistrust. I've spent years hiding, protecting myself. Taking on someone else's burden, even if they share my gift — or my curse — isn't something I signed up for.

And yet, a flicker of something I'd almost forgotten begins to stir deep inside. A quiet call, something that reminds me of the girl I used to be before everything was ripped away.

"So what? You want me to take her under my wing?" I ask, my voice sharp but cracking at the edges. "I don't even know this girl. She's probably better off without me dragging her into my mess."

Ciaran steps closer, his gaze unwavering, holding mine with a fierce intensity. "Maeve is my sister, Ariadne. My youngest sister." His voice wavers just slightly, the pain clear in his eyes. "And yes, I'm calling in that favor. The one you owe me."

I feel my throat tighten at the remainder. 

I do owe him. More than I'd ever willingly admit. But still, it's hard to shake off the instinct to protect myself first, to stay out of this mess that's all but begging me to drown in it.

"It's not just about you, Ariadne," he presses, his tone steady and insistent. "If Maeve really is like you, if she's got even a fraction of your abilities… she's not safe on her own. Not from the dangers she'll attract, and definitely not from herself." His voice drops, softer now, but laced with a desperation I rarely hear from him. "Please. I know you didn't ask for this. But Maeve… she deserves a chance."

The words sink in slowly, chipping away at the familiar resistance I feel, that instinct to keep everything and everyone at arm's length. But beneath my fears and bitterness, there's a small, stubborn spark of responsibility. It's buried under layers of survival instinct, hardened by the years of loss, but it's there. 

A part of me remembers what it felt like to have family, to have someone watching out for me. To have someone who would do anything to keep me safe.

Maeve is his sister. And as much as I hate to admit it, I owe him that protection. I know what it's like to be left alone, unprotected, and I know what it costs. Maybe Maeve doesn't have to pay that same price.

Ciaran stands silently, waiting, his eyes flickering with a hope he's trying not to show. 

Finally, I turn back to him, and in that moment, the weight of my decision settles over me like a cloak. 

I'll do this, not just for Maeve, but for the legacy my family left behind. If there's any chance to protect her, to make sure our story doesn't end in silence, then I have to try.

The resolve settles in my bones. It's time to step out of the shadows, to be more than just a ghost wandering alone. 

"Then it's time to go."