Housebound with the Blackridge Heirs novel Chapter 58

**Change Begins With You — Jayden Collins**
**Chapter 58**

**Maya**

Once again, I found myself enveloped by the serenity of the forest, the ground beneath my bare feet yielding and soft, a comforting cushion against the cool earth.

The air around me was imbued with a delicate sweetness, reminiscent of rain that had danced through the trees, only to vanish, leaving behind a whisper of its presence.

In the heart of the woods, where the trees formed a perfect circle, she stood waiting. This was the first moment I truly saw her, and it struck me like a bolt of lightning. She bore my face, an uncanny reflection that sent shivers down my spine.

Her mouth mirrored mine, her nose, the gentle curve of my chin—everything was there, down to the vibrant green of her eyes, which sparkled with a brightness I had never known. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in rich, luscious curls, shimmering like water under the moonlight, and in that instant, I understood that this was no mere dream born from slumber.

This was a manifestation of the stirring that had been simmering beneath my skin ever since the Council had touched me.

“Hello, Maya,” she greeted, her voice a soft echo that resonated deep within my chest rather than traveling through the air. “Do you recognize me now?”

“I know your face,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “But beyond that, I’m lost.”

“I am Aelara,” she replied, the name flowing from her lips like a gentle tide. “You are not lost; you are merely late.”

“Late for what?” I inquired, confusion knitting my brow.

“For yourself,” she answered, extending her hand. The mist coiled around her fingers as if it were an old friend, and I felt a familiar prickle at the center of my tattoo—the small wolf etched on my wrist when I was just sixteen.

It radiated warmth, as if someone had placed a flickering candle behind my skin.

“You have been called,” she stated, her tone grave yet inviting.

“By whom?” I asked, my voice hitching as a part of me already knew the answer I dreaded to hear.

“By those who believe they own what they fear,” she explained. “Those who will try to bind what they cannot break. You must find me before they do.”

“Where?” I pressed, stepping closer, drawn in by the kindness and loneliness sparkling in her eyes. It was a combination that tugged at my heart.

She smiled knowingly, as if she had witnessed this dance before. “You already know the path. You dream it every night.”

The mist tightened around my legs, pulling me back like a tide retreating to the sea, and then I felt a warm grip on my wrist.

It wasn’t her touch. It was warm, human, and comforting, dirt lingering beneath the fingers that brushed against my skin, igniting the part of me that had been buzzing since I had closed my eyes.

“Wake up,” a voice urged, and suddenly, the forest shattered like fragile glass.

I blinked awake to a world bathed in gray light, a sharp cold biting through the borrowed shirt I wore.

The trees stood tall and real now, their earthy scent of mud and wet bark grounding me back to reality.

Leo gripped my wrist tightly, his expression a whirlwind of worry that I had never seen before.

He exhaled, the tension in his face easing just a fraction.

“You’re not doing this on purpose. We need to ensure you’re never alone at night again, and we must tell Caden as soon as he returns.”

“I know,” I admitted, guilt prickling along my ribs like a thousand tiny needles. “I’ll talk to him.”

“And it’s okay to be scared,” he added gently, his eyes reflecting his own fears. “I’m scared too.”

“You don’t look scared,” I observed, searching his face for any signs of his hidden turmoil.

“I never do,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He glanced toward the east, where the sun began to rise, casting a warm glow over the landscape. “We should head back.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence.

As we returned home, he walked me to the base of the stairs. I climbed slowly, the mark on my wrist still radiating warmth, a lingering reminder of the dream. I paused outside my door, and in that moment, a thought struck me—what if this tattoo was not merely ink?

Could it be something akin to a birthmark? Something I inexplicably received at sixteen? It didn’t seem like a coincidence at all.

“Find me before they do,” she had said.

“I’ll try,” I whispered to the empty hallway, a promise to myself and to whatever lay ahead.