Part Five

Mathew and Lizzie sat at the small round table in the healer’s next room, both silent and steeped in awkward tension. The only sound was the faint crackle of a dying fire in the hearth. Mathew glanced at Lizzie, whose expression made her feelings unmistakable. Disgust etched her features as she avoided looking directly at him.

“What is it?” Mathew finally broke the silence. “Say it.”

“Say what?” Lizzie replied curtly, though it was clear she knew exactly what he meant.

“Come on, Liz. Your face says it all. Say it,” he pressed.

She sighed, her frustration boiling over. “Fine. Why the hell did you bring him here? You know who that is. You know what he’s done—to your people, to my people, and to almost every living being out there. And now this? You’re helping him? After everything?”

Mathew leaned back in his chair, unbothered by her outburst. “First, he’s my friend. And second, he didn’t have a choice.”

Lizzie frowned, her disbelief clear. “No choice? Are you serious? He’s blinded, Mathew. He doesn’t even know the difference between right and wrong. And what about—”

Mathew cut her off, his tone firm. “He’s not the one doing it. I know it’s not him.”

“What do you mean, not him?” Lizzie challenged. “Someone’s pretending to be the Dr—”

Her words were cut short by a loud crash from the other room. Both of them jumped to their feet and rushed toward the noise.

Inside, they found Oliver collapsed on the floor, trembling, his face pale and drenched in sweat. The aftereffects of the nightmare-inducing healing process had clearly taken a toll.

“Oliver!” Mathew knelt beside him as Lizzie grabbed a small vial from the nearby shelf. Pouring its contents—a fine, shimmering powder—into her palm, she knelt down and held it under Oliver’s nose.

“Here. Breathe,” she commanded.

Oliver inhaled deeply, the powder working its magic almost instantly. His trembling subsided, and his breathing slowed. They helped him back onto the couch, where he slumped in exhaustion.

Later, as Oliver and Mathew left Lizzie’s house, Mathew waved over his shoulder. “Thanks for everything, Liz. I’ll see you later.”

“Be safe,” she replied, her tone clipped as she shut the door behind them.

As they walked back to Mathew’s place, Oliver broke the silence. “So… you and Lizzie. You two a thing?”

“What? Me and Lizzie? No way!” Mathew laughed. “Why would you think that?”

“I mean, she definitely has eyes for you,” Oliver teased. “The way she looks at you—come on, man.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m serious!” Oliver said, grinning. “I’ve been married long enough to know when a woman wants something. The way she looks at you—if she doesn’t actually eat werewolves, she’s definitely thinking about it.”

Mathew stopped in his tracks, staring at Oliver with a bemused smile.

“What?” Oliver asked, confused.

Mathew chuckled. “Look at us, man. You’ve changed so much. We both have. I mean, decades ago, our families were literally tearing each other apart. And now here we are, the last remnants of two bloodlines famous for hating each other, talking about women like old friends.”

For a moment, Mathew was lost in his memories, the weight of his losses and regrets pressing down on him. He almost broke under the emotion, but Oliver patted his shoulder.

“Time changes everything, Mathew,” Oliver said softly.

The moment passed, and they walked on in companionable silence until Oliver suddenly froze.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Hey, do you have any transportation dust left?”

When Oliver finally arrived home, he carefully opened the front door, stepping inside as quietly as possible. The house was silent, and he moved toward the stairs, hoping to sneak into bed unnoticed.

But as he passed through the hall, a lamp flicked on behind him.

“Hey,” his wife’s voice cut through the quiet. She was sitting on the couch, her expression one of fury. “You’re back late. Is this a new gown?”

“Hey, honey,” Oliver replied, attempting a disarming smile. “You’re still up?”

“Cut the crap. Where were you?”

“I was out with the guys,” Oliver said, shrugging. “Had a beer or two.”

“Bullshit.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small crystal locket. Holding it up, she asked, “So if I break this illusion charm, I won’t find a bloodied hall and three mutilated bodies in the basement?”

Oliver froze, his façade crumbling.

“Say something, damn it!” she demanded. “I saw the teleportation dust. Tell me where you were. What happened here? Who were those people?”

Resigned, Oliver sat down on the couch beside her and told her everything. He recounted the thugs, the enchanted dagger, and his growing suspicion that someone was posing as him to sow chaos.

“At first, I thought they were just robbers,” he explained. “But when they pulled out that dagger, I knew something was wrong. The Court would never allow enchanted weapons to be sold in human markets. If it’s not the Court, then…”

“Someone’s pretending to be you,” his wife finished, her expression grim.

They both knew what this meant.

“I think my past is back to haunt me,” Oliver said softly.

His wife stood, determination in her eyes. “Alright. I’m reporting this to the Court. We’re leaving. This place isn’t safe anymore.”

“No!” Oliver shot to his feet. “Just give me time. I’ll fix this.”

“Let me help you,” she offered.

“I can’t let you. Last time, I almost lost you. I can’t take that risk again. Just give me a week—one week—and I’ll make it right.”

His wife hesitated, then nodded. “One week. After that, I’m going to the Court.”

She turned to head upstairs but stopped abruptly. Spinning around, she smashed the crystal locket against the floor. The room shimmered, and the illusion vanished, revealing the blood-soaked hall and the aftermath of Oliver’s ruthless battle.

“Clean this mess up,” she said coldly. “And no magic this time.” She leaned closer, her voice softening. “When you’re done, come to bed. I’ve got another surprise for you.”

She walked upstairs, leaving Oliver alone in the bloodied hall. He stared at the carnage for a moment, sighing deeply.

“Well,” he muttered to himself, “at least she’s not mad. Better finish this before I miss my surprise.”

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