<h4>Chapter 266: A Heart Full of Ghosts</h4>


    <strong>Jacob~</strong>


    We touched down so softly, it was as if the wind itself had lowered us—silent, effortless, unannounced.


    The afternoon sun hung high, yet the light barely touched the border of Sebastian’s coven. Dark shadows stretched like ws across the jagged cliffs, draping everything in stillness. It was bright, yes—but unnaturally quiet. That kind of quiet that made the hairs on your neck stand up. Like the world was holding its breath.


    "Home sweet crypt," Sebastian muttered, his voice soft with pride .


    I didn’t reply.


    I was already in motion—mind focused, senses sharp.


    With a flicker of thought, the veil of invisibility slipped over us like a second skin. The wind shifted, scattering dead leaves across the rocky path. To any passerby, we’d vanished into thin air. But that didn’t matter—not to the vampires. They didn’t need eyes to know we were here. I could feel them. Lurking beneath the cliffside alcoves, cloaked in spell-woven shadows andyers of old-world moss. Their energy pulsed from the stone itself. Ancient. Coiled. Ready to strike.


    Sebastian stood beside me, arms folded tight across his chest. The usual glint in his eye was gone, reced by something grim.


    "They’re on edge," he said, scanning the coven grounds. "Tense. Like they can sense what’sing."


    "They’re right to be," I murmured, lifting my hand.


    A quiet spark ignited at my fingertips—a pulse of bluish-white light, soft as moonfire. I began to trace through the air, my fingers dancing across an invisible canvas. Runes bloomed with each motion, glowing faintly before sinking into the earth. Symbols older thannguage. Magic carved in silence.


    With each stroke, a wave of power rolled outward—slow, deliberate, like a tide iming the shore. Protection seeped into the soil, into the stones, into the very bones of the coven itself.


    Sebastian watched in silence as Iyered spells one after the other. Wards to deflect hostile intent. Sigils to lock out any bloodline not tethered to the coven. Barriers of spirit and shadow that twisted with anyone who dared to force entry.


    Then I went deeper.


    I whispered names—real names—the kind that aren’t spoken, only known. The names tied to the very essence of every vampire in this ce. I wove them into the threads of my enchantment like sacred silk. A name bound in magic is a name protected. Held. Untouchable.


    When the final syble passed my lips, I let my hand fall.


    The air shimmered.


    Then it hummed.


    A low, resonant thrum like the vibration of a bowstring pulled too tight.


    "It’s done," I said, my voice a murmur in the hush that followed.


    Sebastian blinked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. "That was... fast. And creepy. And impressive. How did you even know all those names? I’m their master, and I don’t know half the ones you whispered."


    I gave a faint shrug, lips curling into the barest smirk. "Fast is just what it looks like when you’ve lived long enough to remember what time actually is. And the names?" I tilted my head slightly. "I’m Mist. I know everything."


    He gave a low whistle. "Right. Mental note: never get on your bad side."


    "Toote," I said, turning toward the shadows. "You already dragged me back to this crypt. Remember how you set me aze here? It hasn’t been that long."


    Sebastian chuckled, "I have no idea what you’re talking about."


    I looked at him then. Dead serious. "She won’t touch you. Or Cassandra. Or anyone in your coven."


    Sebastian’s face twitched. "Even if she tries—?"


    "She won’t seed. If she even breathes your name wrong, I’ll know. I’ll feel it. Kalmia will never escape me again."


    He went quiet for a beat. Then he asked it—the thing I knew wasing. "This is about Natalie, isn’t it?"


    I didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t need to.


    "Jacob," Sebastian continued, "she’s not possessed anymore. Natalie forced Kalmia out. You know that."


    "I know." I stepped forward, letting thest of the ward settle around us like mist. "But she still dared to enter my sister. To try and control her."


    Sebastian lowered his voice. "You’re not going to rest until she’s gone."


    "No," I said darkly. "Not until I rip her out of this world myself."


    He studied me for a long moment, then finally said, "Are you okay?"


    The words fell harder than I expected.


    I gave him a crooked half-smile.


    He squinted and folded his arms. "You’ve got this ’eternal weight of existence’ posture going on. It’s giving Shakespearean ghost."


    "Sebastian—"


    "Okay, okay." He held up his hands. "I’ll behave. But seriously. You good?" he asked again, this time softer, as if he knew the answer would be a lie but needed to hear it anyway.


    I didn’t answer him right away.


    I could feel the tension clinging to my skin like a second coat. My jaw was tight. My fists were clenched even though I hadn’t noticed curling them. My shoulders were drawn back, stiff as steel rods. I must’ve looked like I was standing on the edge of war—because in a way, I was.


    I gave him a crooked smirk, one that didn’t quite reach my eyes. "Definitely okay."


    Sebastian rolled his eyes and groaned. "Ah yes, the ssic Jacob smirk. That’s the one you sh right before you do something reckless in the name of protection or—let me guess—love?"


    "I’m fine," I replied, shrugging off the weight of his concern.


    "Right," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest. "And I’m a vegan priest."


    I ignored him.


    Instead, I walked over to the edge of the protective ward, the mist still clinging to my boots like whispers refusing to let go. I turned to Sebastian. "Take care of things here. Make sure Zane and Natalie are protected."


    Sebastian blinked. "You’re leaving?"


    "I won’t be long."


    He tilted his head, voice skeptical. "Where are you—"


    I cut him off by lifting my hand. A shimmer of light danced over his form, and just like that, he became visible again. His outline sharpened in the sun like a ghost returning to thend of the living.


    "You didn’t answer my question," he said, voice now fully normal and not filtered through the spell. "Jacob—where are you going?"


    I met his eyes for a fraction of a second. Long enough for him to see what I wasn’t saying.


    He sighed and dropped his gaze. "You’re really going to her, aren’t you?"


    I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.


    With onest look, I stepped back into the space between the world and time, and disappeared.


    I arrived in Paris with the wind still curling around my coat, the cobbled street beneath my boots echoing faintly in the silence of the hour. It was just after 3 AM. The world was quiet. The city slept in a velvet hush, except for a few flickering streetlights and the asional distant sound of tires over wet asphalt.


    Fox’s questions still echoed in my mind.


    "I’m saying if you open that door again—if you let her truly remember—she’s back in this world. With us. With gods. Monsters. War. Blood. And you remember how that ended, don’t you?"


    I told myself I wasn’t here to stay. I wasn’t foolish enough to drag Easter back into the storm that surrounded me, especially now—not with what she’d already been through. She’d earned her peace, no matter how fragile it still looked from the outside. And I... I wasn’t sure I deserved to take it from her again.


    Three days. I’ll stay with her for just three days, and then I’d disappear.


    She wouldn’t even know I had been here for her.


    And besides... I saw Natalie. Her scent had changed. She was pregnant. The moment I stepped into the threshold of the house earlier, I felt it, that subtle shift in her aura. But Jasmine—clever little fox—was hiding the pregnancy from Natalie. I saw the careful way she distracted her, moved magic just enough to shield Natalie from recognizing it herself. And I said nothing. I pretended not to notice.


    But I had. Of course, I had.


    Natalie needed me now. It was time to stop running and take my ce again. As her protector. As her brother. As the Wolf Spirit.


    But before I did, I had to say goodbye. Even if only in my heart.


    Easter’s small house stood just across the quiet street. I didn’t cross immediately. Instead, I stood beneath a flickering streetlight, my hands deep in my pockets, watching the glow from her living room window.


    The curtain was partially open.


    And there she was.


    Easter was curled up on the couch, asleep beneath a worn beige nket that didn’t quite cover her feet. Her curls were a wild halo around her face, framing that delicate, fairytale beauty she never believed she had. A children’s book was syed open on the coffee table beside a near-empty mug of hot chocte—Rose’s, probably, judging by the melted marshmallows clinging to the rim.


    Her cheek rested against a throw pillow, her lips parted just slightly as she breathed in deep, even rhythms. Peaceful. So utterly peaceful.


    And yet all I could feel was pain.


    A bone-deep ache tightened my chest, radiating outward like someone was pulling thread through my ribs, yanking it taut. I didn’t need to breathe—but in that moment, I felt like I couldn’t.


    How was I supposed to survive this?


    How was I supposed to leave her?


    Every part of me screamed to go to her. To walk in. To hold her and tell her she wasn’t alone, that I remembered everything for both of us. That I would never let anyone hurt her again. That she didn’t have to be afraid.


    But I couldn’t.