Chereads / Fated to a human / Chapter 45 - Chapter 45

Chapter 45 - Chapter 45

JC POV 

I stood across the hall, my face pale, my expression a mixture of horror and rage. Where was I, and what was this place? Something deep inside told me this was all Melody's doing—her creation, her chaos. 

But why? As I walked further, the atmosphere grew heavier, the castle's towering walls exuding a sinister presence. The stone was cold and black, ancient yet filled with malevolence. It looked like an old one at that. 

The silence was broken by the creak of an old wooden door opening. The sound echoed through the castle, sending a chill down my spine. My head snapped toward the noise, my heart racing. Who was it? Was it Melody? Or someone else? 

The door slid open, revealing two figures silhouetted against the dim light. I took a step forward, my breath catching in my throat. 

As the figures came into focus, my fears were confirmed. It was my sister, Melody, and beside her, Haylie. 

But something was wrong—terribly wrong. Melody's hair, once a warm chestnut, was now an unnatural shade of jet black, sleek and straight as if drained of life. Her eyes, once kind and brown, were now inky voids, swirling with darkness. 

 Black magic. 

 She'd promised me she would never use it, and yet here she was, consumed by it. My anger surged, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. What had she done? And what gave her the right to treat Haylie this way? 

 I stepped forward, locking eyes with her. "Melody, what the hell is going on?" My voice trembled, a mix of fury and desperation. 

 My throat tightened as I tried to hold back the storm brewing within me. Turning to Haylie, I softened my tone, pleading, "Haylie, are you okay?" 

Before she could respond, Melody's hand gripped her shoulder firmly. "She's fine," Melody said, her lips curling into a twisted smirk. The sound of her voice was chilling, devoid of warmth. This was not my sister. Her eyes bore into mine, cold and empty, like a predator's. 

"What did you do?" I demanded, my voice rising. "You can't just come and take Haylie like this!" 

My anger echoed through the hall, but Melody didn't flinch. Instead, she laughed—a low, menacing sound that reverberated off the stone walls. 

My breath quickened as I fought to stay calm, but rage clawed at the edges of my mind. I wanted to charge at her, to take Haylie away and end whatever twisted game Melody was playing. 

"Fine, you can have her," Melody sneered, her tone dripping with mockery. 

In an instant, I rushed to Haylie's side. "Haylie, are you okay?" I asked again, my voice trembling with concern. Her green eyes, usually vibrant, were now dulled with fear. She tried to mask it, but I could see the terror etched into her face. 

"I'm fine," she whispered hoarsely, her voice strained. Her hand was cold and clammy as I took it in mine, squeezing gently. "Don't worry. I won't let her hurt you," I said softly. "I'm here now." 

Her gaze met mine, and she nodded faintly. I needed her to trust me, to know I wouldn't abandon her. At this moment, I was all she had. 

"I was just having some fun," Melody said nonchalantly, her words laced with cruel amusement. She turned and began ascending a grand staircase, her movements eerily graceful, like a predator retreating but ready to strike again. 

This wasn't my sister. The Melody I knew was gone, replaced by something dark and wicked. 

 My eyes scanned the castle—our prison. High above, a massive chandelier shaped like a golden dragon hung from the vaulted ceiling, its scales glimmering faintly in the dim light. The walls were slick with a foreboding sheen, and at the center of the room stood a throne. It was large and ominous, upholstered in deep red and black, flanked by two smaller chairs. This was her domain now, her wicked kingdom. 

I tightened my grip on Haylie's hand. Her small, trembling fingers wrapped around mine, grounding me in the moment. I looked into her frightened eyes and forced a reassuring smile. "I'll get you out of here," I promised, my voice steady. "Just stay with me, okay?" 

She nodded again, her trust evident despite her fear. 

As Melody disappeared up the staircase, I knew this wasn't over. The sister I once knew was buried beneath the darkness, and I would do whatever it took to bring her back—or end whatever had taken her place. 

But my biggest worries were to get Haylie out of here and to safety. I will do what ever it takes to get her back home and that she be save away from this place. 

Liam POV  

Flashes of Haylie kept playing over and over in my mind, like a broken record. Her voice echoed endlessly, calling my name, and visions of her with Melody replayed again and again. 

 Then there was Melody—and the faint heartbeat that lingered in my mind, as if etched into the fabric of my thoughts. 

But suddenly, I heard another voice calling my name. It sounded like my father. I wanted desperately to open my eyes, but something held me back, as if I were tethered to the void. 

Before I could even struggle, I fell into complete darkness once more, the world around me fading to black. 

It felt like a deep, unshakable sleep, one from which I couldn't wake. And then, I found myself back in that room. 

 Melody was there, her eyes filled with tears, whispering how sorry she was. I reached out instinctively, but I couldn't find my wolf, couldn't connect with him. The room began to shift, its walls melting into a new scene. 

Suddenly, I was standing atop the Eiffel Tower, and there was Haylie. A smile spread across my lips at the sight of her—so radiant in her sleek black dress, her fiery red hair glowing against the Parisian skyline. She was breathtaking. 

We danced under the stars, the world below us fading into nothingness. I sang to her, each word carrying the weight of a thousand emotions. 

 It felt like magic—pure, unbroken magic—pulling us together, as if time itself had stopped to give us this fleeting moment. 

It felt like I could dance with her forever, endlessly lost in her presence. No matter how long we moved together, I knew I would never grow tired of holding her close. But as we danced, the world around us began to shift. I felt Haylie slip from my hands, her form dissolving into the ether. My heart clenched as she disappeared. 

Before I could process what had happened, I found myself standing in a church. I was dressed in a black suit, my hands brushing against the crisp fabric as I glanced around, trying to make sense of it all. 

Beside me stood my friend Taylor, also clad in a formal black tuxedo. The pews were filled with people dressed in elegant attire. 

Where was I? This felt strange and unfamiliar. The sound of church bells began to ring, their resonant chime filling the air, and the congregation rose in unison, their gazes turning toward the grand doors at the back of the church. 

 My heart started to race, each beat pounding in my chest like a drum. Was this a wedding? And why was I here? None of this fit within my memories. 

The heavy doors creaked open, drawing my eyes like a magnet. Two figures entered, and my breath caught in my throat. The first was my father, Matthew, looking dashing in a black 

tuxedo with a dark blue tie. A proud, radiant smile lit up his face as he stepped forward. But it was the woman beside him who stole my breath and made my heart stutter. 

Haylie. 

She was flawless. Draped in a white silk wedding gown that hugged her figure perfectly, the dress featured a heart-shaped neckline that framed her shoulders and décolletage with soft elegance. Small pearls adorned her neck, their shimmer a subtle complement to her radiant beauty. And there, on the curve of her neck, was my mark—my wolf's mark. 

This couldn't be real. 

 We had never been married. This had to be a dream. Yet, in that moment, I knew one thing for certain: if we ever did get married, Haylie would be the most breathtaking bride imaginable. 

 She was perfection, standing there as if she had stepped out of my deepest hopes and dreams. 

My heart pounded wildly in my chest as Haylie walked closer to the altar where I stood. My eyes were locked on her, unable to look away. She wore a breathtaking smile, her lips curving with joy, and her eyes glowed with a happiness I had never seen before. In that moment, she was more beautiful than I had ever imagined. 

When she reached the altar, my father leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek before stepping aside. Haylie turned to me, her presence radiating warmth as she joined me. 

"You look beautiful," I whispered, my voice soft and filled with awe. 

Her smile brightened even more for a moment, but then something shifted. Her glowing green eyes suddenly clouded with sadness, tears spilling over as her expression changed. A frown formed on my face, confusion and worry twisting inside me. "Haylie?" I called softly, but she didn't respond. 

Her lips trembled as her body jerked forward in a violent cough, and to my horror, blood spilled from her mouth. 

 "Haylie!" I said again, louder now, stepping toward her as her head dipped downward. My gaze followed hers, and my stomach clenched when I saw the deep red staining her pristine white wedding dress. 

The blood spread rapidly, consuming the delicate silk until the dress turned a vivid, horrifying crimson. I reached out to her, desperate to help, but there was no visible wound—nothing to explain why she was bleeding. 

Her trembling body seemed to weaken, and as her gaze lifted to meet mine, I froze. Her once-bright green eyes were now cold and lifeless. The light had vanished, replaced by an emptiness that chilled me to my core. 

"Liam," she whispered, her voice weak and broken through her bloodied coughs. "You couldn't save me." 

"No!" I cried, stepping closer, frantic to touch her, to fix this. But as I extended my hand, the world around me began to dissolve. 

The vivid red of her dress, her form, and the altar itself melted into an all-encompassing darkness. My voice echoed in the void as I called her name, but she was gone. 

 I fell again, deeper and deeper into the abyss, until I was consumed by the black void of sleep once more. 

 Mathew POV  

The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed through the room, a rhythmic reminder of Liam's fragile state. 

 I sat in the corner, watching him as he lay there, unmoving, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. It had been two days and a half since he'd fallen into this unnatural sleep, and the silence between each beep felt like an eternity. 

The image of the house's devastation still burned in my mind, vivid as if it had happened mere hours ago. 

The structure had been reduced to rubble, trembling and broken. I could still see it—the horrific scene where I'd found my dearest friend Camelia. Blood was everywhere, staining the shattered remnants of her life. 

And then there was Liam, buried beneath a pile of wooden debris, his body coated in dust and his face pale and still. My heart had stopped when I saw him. 

He had a deep gash along his right arm, the crimson streaks stark against his ashen skin. But he hadn't woken. The doctors said his heart had been struck by black magic, leaving them powerless to intervene. Only his wolf's innate healing ability could save him now. Yet, the horror of that day remained etched in my mind, tormenting me with every replay. 

And now, as my son lay in a hospital bed, I had another weight pressing on my chest. I needed to plan a funeral service for Camelia. Haylie was nowhere to be found. The pain of it all was suffocating, and a heavy sigh escaped my lips as I buried my head in my hands. 

"It is not your fault, Mathew," my wolf's voice murmured in my mind, trying to comfort me. But the guilt lingered, thick and unrelenting. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the strain of it all, when the soft creak of the door broke through the stillness. 

I lifted my head to see Cleo step inside, her expression lined with worry. Her eyes softened as they met mine, and she approached slowly, her movements quiet but purposeful. 

"How is he?" she asked, her voice trembling with concern. 

I didn't look away from her as she crossed the room and stood before me. "Still the same," I replied, my voice low and tired. Rising from the chair, I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. 

Her feminine warmth anchored me in the chaos, grounding me when everything else seemed to be slipping away. 

We clung to each other, seeking solace in the embrace. Our son was in the hospital, his life hanging by a thread, and we had to be strong—for him, for each other. Together, we would face whatever came next.