Chapter 139: Shadows of Fear
Thelma Zane’s POV:
‘Actually, I’m a little scared.” The words tumbled from my lips, muffled against Aldrich’s shoulder as sobs wracked my chest. “Why is fate so unfair to me? Why am I the one who has to suffer all this?”
Aldrich sighed softly, his hand moving rhythmically along my back, soothing yet trembling ever so slightly. “Everything will be fine,” he murmured, but I caught the hesitation in his voice–the same uncertainty that haunted my own thoughts.
It wasn’t a promise he could truly make, and we both knew it. The path ahead was obscured by shadows, with no guarantees, only hope. All we could do was keep moving forward and pray that the dawn would eventually break.
I clung to Aldrich’s quiet strength, pouring out my fear and despair in the safety of his embrace. I had faced sorcerers, demons, the threat of mutation, and the looming specter of death. Yet here, in this moment, I allowed myself to unravel, exposing the raw edges of my
soul.
The hours passed, and soon the first light of dawn began to filter through the window. The door to the medical room creaked open, and my heart leapt into my throat. Master Hayley emerged, her expression inscrutable.
“How did it go? Was it successful?” My voice wavered with urgency.
Hayley hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. “For the most part, yes,” she said carefully. The engraving was largely successful. However, a small portion of the seal scripts hasn’t shown any effect. This is highly unusual. Neither nor any ancient texts have encountered such a phenomenon before.”
“What does that mean?” Panic bubbled in my chest, threatening to consume me. “Does that mean it failed? What about Dorothy? Is she okay?
Kevin, another werewolf grandmaster, stepped forward with a wry smile. “It didn’t fail. The engraving is functional. But the unaffected portion of the seal is… peculiar. Despite this anomaly, Dorothy’s soul remains unscathed, which is fortunate.
Relief surged through me, overwhelming my capacity to process the details. As their words faded into the background, a wave of exhaustion crashed over me, dragging me into unconsciousness.
When I woke, I found myself nestled in the familiar comfort of my own bed. The soft mattress cradled me, and the gentle hum of medical equipment filled the room. An IV drip was attached to my hand, and the faint smell of antiseptic lingered in the air.
Aldrich was the first to notice I was awake. He moved swiftly to my side, concern etched into his features. “Thelma, how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.
I tried to sit up, wincing as dizziness clouded my senses. “A little nauseous… and starving,” I admitted, rubbing my temples to ease the pounding headache. My voice was hoarse, as though I hadn’t used it in days.
Aldrich quickly grabbed a bowl of steaming milk corn soup from the bedside table. As he
handed it to me, he noticed the tremor in my hands and immediately took over, feeding me
spoon by spoon.
“I can do it myself,” I protested weakly, feeling embarrassed, but Aldrich remained silent, his expression unreadable as he guided the spoon to my lips.
The warmth of the soup soothed my stomach, but the tension in the room was palpable. Halfway through the bowl, I could no longer ignore it. “Aldrich,” I began tentatively, “are you angry with me?”
He paused, setting the bowl aside. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a sigh, he admitted, “Yes, Thelma. I think I am.”
The words stung, but I needed to understand. “Why?” I asked softly. “What did I do?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his usual composure cracking. “You’ve been unconscious for three days,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “The werewolf grandmasters and Tracy assured me it was just exhaustion–that your body triggered a self–defense mechanism–but I/ couldn’t stop worrying. Every time I saw you lying there, so still, I felt… helpless.”
He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “I’m the youngest and most promising general among the werewolves, yet I was powerless to help you. All I could do was wait, and it tore me apart.”
I reached out, placing my hand over his. “Aldrich, you’ve never been powerless. You’ve always been my strength.” My voice wavered, but I pushed on. “I didn’t want you to see me like that, covered in scars and… broken. I thought if you saw, it would change how you feel about me.”
Aldrich looked up sharply, his golden eyes blazing with intensity. “Thelma, how could you think that? You are the strongest person I know. Those scars… they’re a testament to everything you’ve endured and overcome. They don’t make you any less beautiful to me.”
His words brought fresh tears to my eyes, and I buried my face in his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace soothe the storm within me. But as his hand brushed against my cheek, I flinched, suddenly self–conscious.
I pulled away abruptly, my hands flying to cover my face. “No, don’t look at me,” I pleaded. The scars haven’t healed yet. I must look hideous”
Aldrich gently took my hands, pulling them away “Thelma,” he said firmly, “look at me.”
Reluctantly, I met his gaze. His expression was tender, free of judgment or pity. “You are more than your appearance,” he said softly. “You are brave, resilient, and everything I could ever want. Don’t hide yourself from me.”
His words wrapped around me like a balm, easing the insecurities that had taken root in my heart. Slowly, I allowed myself to relax, letting his acceptance wash over me.
As we sat together, the weight of the past few days began to lift. Though the road ahead was still uncertain, I knew that with Aldrich by my side, I could face whatever challenges lay in
wait.
