The Crimson Snow (A Realm of Chaos and Void #1)

Chapter 17

The Shattered Wolf

I found a way to dispel the curse placed upon Evren Wraithwood. After years of research, I finally found it. But all my intents to deliver that to him have failed. I just hope he can return home someday. And when he does, that it’s not too late.

Retrieved from Theron Galehollow’s journal.

Evren Wraithwood

Evren followed Seraphine through the alleys toward the Mystweave Library, his head clouded. Thorne and Kaelan are dead. His dearest confidants were dead—the only ones who had ever cared for him, the rightful rulers of this messed-up realm. Who could have done such a thing? The king was vile enough, but he doubted he had any interest in killing his own blood.

They must now be eyeing the remaining son and the king. Evren’s presence in the Otherworld at this time might prove dangerous.

“Here,”

Seraphine said, her tone plain, pulling him out of his thoughts. Still, there she was, stunning even in worn-out pants. He closed the distance and stood in front of a broken mirror ensnared by black roses.

Evren rolled his eyes and nearly laughed. Theron, such dramatics.

He was about to ask her how long she had known about this place, but his words got caught in his throat when he noticed her looking at him.

He had long admitted that her eyes were his undoing. They seemed a little shinier, no longer fully empty. Seraphine was probably still feeling cold and unsteady, but she had been more chatty. More alive. That could only mean one thing, but he had no time to dwell on that.

She is a dangerous distraction.

“If you keep looking at me, I may have to kiss your other cheek,”

he drawled slowly, moving his gaze to her lips, knowing it would fluster her. Ignite something there.

She shot him a weary look and moved to his side to avoid eye contact. Cute.

“There is something very wrong with you,”

she spoke under her breath.

Moving deliberately, he positioned himself in front of her. Gently, he lifted her chin, his fingers lingering against her skin, guiding her gaze to meet his once more. “Shall I discover a more delightful place to kiss you, then?”

he murmured, a roguish grin tugging at his mouth.

A spark of warmth appeared in her eyes. Seraphine pinched his side as before, and he released her chin slowly, the memory of her skin against his fingertips tender.

“All right, no kissing, then. I have absolutely no interest in that whatsoever. After all, you’re definitely not my type... not even close.”

She totally was.

Evren couldn’t deny the thrill that surged through him every time he teased her. Her reactions were always priceless—those sharp retorts, the subtle flush of her cheeks, a hint of color coming alive on her again. He savored each moment, finding it hard to keep it together.

“Good,”

she snapped, her voice firm. “Because you are definitely not my type either.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,”

she said confidently, though the heat rising to her cheeks and eyes betrayed her.

Evren leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Then, why do I catch you staring at me so often, Crimson Eyes?”

he teased, his voice devilish.

She turned her head sharply, their faces inches apart. The tension between them was palpable, a magnetic pull that neither could deny. He could see the defiance in her eyes, the challenge, but something else was there too.

“Don’t flatter yourself,”

she breathed, her gaze darting upward in exasperation as she moved around him, facing the mirror. “I found this place a while ago. It took me months to discover a way in, and—”

“You just have to let them bite you,”

Evren interrupted.

He knew the trick. It was an old way to keep things hidden. Still, there was something about it that he could not fully puzzle out.

“These roses are called nightsiths. They are mostly found around the north, at the edge of the Galehollow region, which is extremely dangerous since it is closer to the now closed entrance of the Underworld.”

He pushed his fingers toward one of the roses.

They opened their sharp teeth. Then, they started with the usual riddles. Evren pulled his hand back, teasing them.

“That is very insightful and useless information, thank you,”

Seraphine muttered, her expression stony.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

So very hard to impress.

“But, did you, Seraphine Ashcroft, know that nightsiths only allow certain individuals when placed as a protection spell?”

Evren’s voice was a velvety whisper as he took her hand, his touch lingering and warm. He held it close to the roses, savoring the softness of her skin against his fingers. “Did you know that not everyone’s blood is accepted?”

he murmured, his eyes locked onto hers, a smoldering intensity in his gaze. As he moved her hand closer, the roses began to stir, eagerly responding to her presence, as if they were crying out for her.

“Why would they accept mine then?”

Her tone was devoid of curiosity.

Evren knew it would take time for her to get used to the effects of a frozen heart. Yet, he missed the little reactions she used to have—her curiosity over everything in the world, the spark in her eyes whenever she walked from the Otherworld, the mischief in her lips when she was about to do something maddeningly fun.

All gone because of me.

He moved her hand, and a rose bit her deeply. She made no sound. Seraphine hadn’t even blinked. “Exactly. Why would they?”

He wanted to tell her that he had built the whole library centuries ago for her—for who she used to be.

However, he hadn’t placed the nightsiths, and Theron didn’t know about Seraphine. Even if Theron knew, he would have chosen a different type of protection, not nightsiths. These roses hated humans. In fact, a bite from one was deadly poisonous for humans. Yet, the roses seemed more eager for Seraphine’s blood than his own. They were aching for her. Strange.

As the roses unfurled from the shattered mirror and it began to piece itself together, Evren felt a pang of confusion and curiosity. He watched Seraphine move through the mirror toward the library and wondered if Seraphine was not a mere human after all. If maybe all those rumors, which he had started, were tinted with some truth.

But if she is not human, what exactly is she?

Seraphine Ashcroft

It was just as Seraphine remembered, though it felt like a lifetime since she had last been here. She sensed Evren moving behind her, his presence as massive as a majestic wolf—and just as overbearing.

“Ah, I see someone kept adding more floors to this,”

he said, sounding pleased.

Seraphine watched as he wandered around the crystal library. It was still dark, and she considered mentioning the usual offering to the librarian but held back. Evren seemed lost in his own world, perhaps reminiscing. She wondered what kind of being he had been to create something so magnificent and what events had turned him into the creature he was today.

Evren finally approached the table. Instead of placing something of value, he laughed, holding a note with the usual warning she always saw.

“I can’t believe you trick people with this type of nonsense,”

he said to the air, still laughing.

“Who are you talking to?”

Seraphine asked, beginning to think Evren was losing his mind.

Out of the blue, the candles lit up, and the library shimmered with crystal colors. He hadn’t even given an offering. Perhaps his laugh had been the gift?

Evren finally looked at her again, and she could swear there was something akin to nostalgia in his eyes. “Do not tell me you were tricked into giving food and other stuff to the library keeper?”

he said, holding the paper in his hand. Moments later, the paper disintegrated.

Seraphine shifted awkwardly. “Yes, the Otherworld is based on exchange and—”

“What on Nemera’s wings makes you believe that?”

Evren asked, stepping closer to her.

“Dorah taught me that in the Shadowmarket, you must—”

He cut her off with more laughter. After composing himself, Evren looked at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Crimson Eyes, those are the rules of the Shadowmarket. My library is not part of the Shadowmarket. It is not a place to trade. This is an extension of me, a part of what my home used to be. There is no business or deal-making here.”

“That’s nonsense. I tried to take a book once, and the librarian, or whatever keeper here, threw a book at my head,”

Seraphine muttered. How much cheese and precious objects have I wasted on this place?

“Did he?”

Evren looked around as if searching for someone. His eyes darkened, and when he opened his hand, a red leaf appeared, floating around the library. He followed the leaf.

Seraphine wasn’t sure if she was supposed to follow, but she did. The leaf flew across the first floor to a bookshelf. Evren crouched and removed the books from the first self.

“Where are you, Raggart?”

he whispered, his voice rough.

As he cleared most of the shelf, Seraphine saw a creature hiding, clutching the last book.

This was the first time she saw the librarian this close. The creature had two long, pointed ears and a trunk-like nose. It was golden and not very friendly-looking. She had thought he was a regular brownie, but there was more to this one.

The creature looked at Evren and hugged the book tighter.

Evren smiled widely. “Found you.”