The Golden Lycans (Ella) novel Chapter 103

<Look Further, Eliana

Claim

Look Further, Eliana…

Mad spent the whole day in bed. This was something I hadn’t done for a very long time.

I feel defeated, and I have more questions than ever before, drifting like ghosts through my mind.

I know Will was right.

He’s never wrong-especially when it comes to auras. Especially mine.

Erebus is my biological father. And he probably murdered my mother. Had he always planned to hunt me down once I came of age?

A question coils tight in my chest-was my heritage the reason why I was the way I was? A faerie giving birth to a warlock-Lycan hybrid?

Is this why I could bond to a Lycan?

I lie there in the dark, tangled in my own thoughts, searching for answers that feel just out of reach. My mind is a tide pulling further and further out.

Eventually, I drift into sleep, exhausted…

…and awaken beneath the familiar willow tree.

Its cascading silver leaves dance gently in the breeze, each one catching the light like threads of starlight. The soft grass beneath my fingers is warm, velvet-rich, and alive. Above me, the sky stretches endlessly-a vast, celestial tapestry of deep azure and rose-gold clouds that drift like spilled ink in water. The scent of honeysuckle and something sweeter still wraps around me like a

sigh.

For the first time in months, I’m here again.

But this time, something is different.

This world-this realm-no longer feels like a dream pressed to the back of my mind. It feels real. The air is thicker, richer with magic. The warmth of the sun soaks into my bones. The scent of blooming wildflowers is so potent, I can almost taste their sweetness on my tongue. Every sound is vibrant, textured-the rustling of leaves, the whisper of unseen wings, the distant lilt of windchimes or laughter carried on the breeze.

More than anything, I feel connected.

To the earth beneath me. To the sky above. To every glimmering blade of grass and every glowing

SAT

|||

1/4

r

< Look Further, Eliana

bloom. It’s as though the entire realm recognises me-knows me-and in turn, I recognise it.

Claim

Is it because the talisman is gone, and my power unbound? Or is it my bond with Austin, anchoring

me here more deeply than before?

I rise slowly to my feet, my breath catching as my eyes scan the vast, rolling horizon beyond the meadow. The grass ripples in gentle waves, and it’s not green but a soft hue of gold, woven through with silver strands. The flowers are unlike anything in the mortal realm-petals of twilight blue and dusk-purple, blossoms that shimmer like crushed moonstone, their perfume both

intoxicating and invigorating.

A low wind stirs, not harsh but guiding, and I begin to run. My feet barely touch the ground, gravity softened as though the realm itself urges me forward, lifting me with every stride. A winding path appears beneath me, unfurling like a ribbon toward a river, its waters glowing faintly, as though lit from beneath by liquid starlight.

I pass flora so alien and beautiful I forget to breathe. Shrubs bursting with flame-tipped blossoms. Trees with translucent leaves that hum with quiet song. Flowers that open as I pass, their centres revealing glowing pollen that dances in the air like golden fireflies. The magic here is not hidden-it thrives in plain sight, worn proudly.

Then, in the distance, something new-a cluster of rounded stone mounds nestled at the foot of a

great hill.

But as I draw closer, a chill pricks the nape of my neck.

They’re not mounds.

They’re homes.

Is this it? The home of the Fae?

I slow to a walk, heart pounding. The houses are crafted from a pearlescent lilac stone that seems to shimmer faintly, as though alive. Their arched wooden doors are carved with patterns that resemble constellations and vines entwined, wide enough for winged beings to pass through

unhindered. That realisation hits me like a shiver.

I reach out and touch the wall of one. I expect cold stone-but it’s warm, almost soft. It pulses faintly beneath my palm, like a heartbeat. As if the dwelling itself is sentient. As if it knows me.

Then comes a voice. Soft as wind through leaves, and achingly familiar. Like a lullaby I once knew.

“Eliana…

I spin around, breath catching. The voice beckons from the right, lilting like music on the air. My eyes lift beyond the houses, and for the first time, I see.

SAY

10

2/4

O

< Look Further, Eliana

This isn’t just a handful of homes.

It’s a village.

Claim

Cobblestone paths–some made of crystal, others of woven vines-crisscross the valley, flanked by more lilac dwellings, their rooftops blooming with flowering moss and climbing roses that sparkle faintly in the light, Benches carved from ancient tree trunks rest beneath canopies of glowing lantern fruit, and beds of flowers spill into every open space, cascading in impossible

hues.

A fountain sings gently at the centre, its water clear and bright, laced with glowing tendrils of energy that twist and dance like liquid ribbons.

The voice returns, closer this time. “Look further, Eliana…

I step past the fountain. The path curves gently, and as I round the bend-

I stop breathing.

There, at the heart of the village, is a wisteria tree unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

It towers nearly thirty feet high, its trunk gnarled and ancient, wrapped in vines thick with life. Its blossoms cascade in endless violet ribbons, each flower catching the light like spun glass. The air around it shimmers, charged with something primal and powerful. The roots spread outward, pulsing beneath the earth like veins, reaching toward me.

I can feel it from here.

The tree is alive-not just in the way all trees are, but truly alive. Sentient. Ancient. Watching.

Magic thrums through the air, through the soil, through me.

And I know.

This is not just any tree.

It is a heart.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify