Chapter 44: The Stolen Time

Azura’s POV

I was still kneeling in the cold sand, my fingers digging deep into the gritty earth, but I didn’t feel the chill. I didn’t feel anything. My hand was still stretched out, rigid and claw-like, pointing toward the empty air where Amanda had been seconds before. The air was smooth now, mocking me with its emptiness.

The ringing in my ears was deafening, a high-pitched scream that drowned out the sound of the stream, the birds, the wind, everything. My chest felt like it was encased in iron bands, tightening with every shallow breath I tried to take. My throat was burning, raw and dry, but I couldn’t swallow. My heart wasn’t beating; it was slamming against my ribs painfully, a frantic bird trapped in a cage, looking for a way out that didn’t exist.

I wasn’t crying, nor was I screaming. I was just blank. Devastated. Empty. My mind refused to accept the reality right in front of my face. Amanda was right there. She was holding a flower. She was smiling. And then... she wasn’t.

My hands began to shake, a violent tremor that started in my fingertips and spread to my shoulders. My breath came in sharp, hitching gasps. The world around me felt hollow, a stage set made of cardboard that was about to collapse. I had failed. I was supposed to be their protector, and I had failed the most important one.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder, breaking through the ringing in my ears. I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to. I knew the weight of that hand. It was Genevieve. Her touch wasn’t just a comfort; it was a devastating confirmation of reality. If she were here, it meant the battle was over. It meant the portal was gone. It meant Amanda was gone.

That single, quiet touch made the pain heavier, a crushing weight that finally forced my head down. Genevieve stood beside me, silent, still. She didn’t offer empty words like ’it will be okay,’ because we both knew that was a lie. She just stood there, sharing the silence, sharing the grief.

But then, a thought slammed into my mind like a physical blow. The portal.

I turned violently, whipping around to grab Genevieve’s arms. My fingers dug into her robes, my knuckles white with the force of my grip. I looked up at her, my eyes wide and frantic, searching for a glimmer of hope.

"Open it," I stammered, my voice broken, raspy. "You can. You can do it. I saw you. You opened one before. You can open another. Please." I was shaking her, my mind spinning. "They took her through it. I saw it. I saw it! Just open it! Just try! Please!"

Tears finally began to spill, hot and fast, running down my face and dripping onto Genevieve’s robes. I was begging, stripping away all my dignity, all my pride, reduced to a terrified girl asking for a miracle. "They’ll kill her, Genevieve! Please, you have to try!"

Genevieve didn’t pull away. She didn’t tell me to stop. She just looked down at me with deep, profound sadness. That look... it wasn’t hopeless. It wasn’t cold. It was known. It was the look of someone who understood the rules of this dark magic better than I did. She slowly shook her head, a gesture so small, yet it cracked my world in two.

"No... no, no, no..." I whispered, the word escaping me in a broken breath. "You’re lying. You have to try. You have to!"

My hands slipped from her arms, my strength vanishing completely. I stumbled backward, falling onto the hard sand, the breath knocked out of me. I scrambled away from her on my hands and knees, my mind spiraling into a dark place. My hands went to my hair, clutching it, pulling at the roots, trying to anchor myself to something, anything. My breathing became erratic, a frantic, sobbing rhythm.

"No... no... no..." I chanted the word as a mindless mantra. The guilt, the helplessness, the sheer, paralyzing shock of the moment all collided, shattering my sanity into a thousand pieces.

Genevieve exhaled slowly, a long, weary sound. She stepped away from me, her expression turning hard, focused. She brought her palms together, ignoring my breakdown. She began to whisper ancient words, the same harsh, guttural language I had heard before.

Soft, golden light began to gather around her hands, swirling and intensifying. The air around us started to vibrate, the pressure building until my ears popped.

With a sudden, violent motion, Genevieve threw her hands apart. Light burst outward from her, a brilliant explosion that shot up into the sky and then spread out like ripples on a pond. The light passed through the trees, through the stream, through me.

And with that light, reality returned.

The sound flooded back in all at once, a chaotic torrent of noise. The children’s laughter crashed back in mid-shriek. The water in the stream splashed loudly against the rocks. The birds began to sing, and the leaves rustled in the breeze.

The small boy who had been frozen mid-leap landed with a splash in the stream, sputtering and confused. Liona, who had been sitting on the rock, suddenly finished the motion she was in, popping the grape into her mouth and chewing, completely unaware that seconds of her life had been stolen.

Liona turned instinctively toward me, a smile on her face that instantly vanished when she saw me on the ground. She saw me shaking, tears streaming down my face, and Genevieve standing stiffly beside me, looking haunted.

Liona rushed over, her face pale, and knelt beside me. "Azura? What happened? Are you hurt?" She looked around, confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Then, a scream tore through the air. Not a scream of play, but a scream of pure, unadulterated panic.

"AMANDA!" It was a girl’s voice, raw and terrified.

A second scream ripped through the clearing. Then another. It wasn’t playing anymore. It was pure, cold terror.

The sound hit me like a slap. One little girl was just standing there, screaming Amanda’s name over and over, her face a mess of tears and snot. Another boy was running in circles, crashing into the other kids, knocking them down. The happy clearing turned into a storm of noise and fear.

The guards looked lost. They spun around, their eyes wide, shouting names that just got swallowed up by the wind. "Leo! Check the water!" "Ethan! Where are you, boy?" They ran to the trees, looked under rocks, but their movements were stiff and clumsy with panic.

It was useless. I knew it was useless.

They were gone. Amanda, Leo, Ethan. Just... gone. The reality of it was a heavy, cold stone that settled in my gut and pushed all the air out of my lungs. It was real. This was really happening.

Liona stood up, her face draining of all color. She looked around, counting heads, her eyes growing wide. "What happened to the kids?" she asked, her voice trembling. "They were just here seconds ago. Where did they go?"

I looked up at her, my voice barely a whisper, speaking to myself more than anyone else. "They’re gone..."

I started to laugh, a dry, harsh sound that didn’t belong to me, a sound of a broken mind. "They’re gone." I looked at Liona, the laughter turning into a sob. "Something took them."

Then, Genevieve’s voice cut through the noise. It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp and clear, like ice cracking on a winter pond.

"Enough."

Everyone froze. The screaming hitched. The guards stopped spinning.

Her face was stone. She looked at each guard, one by one. "Take the children back to the orphanage. Now."

The guards reacted instantly, driven by the command. There was no hesitation, no argument. They began to herd the terrified children together, pulling them away from the riverbank.

I remained sitting in the sand, tears streaming down my face, incapable of moving. The world was moving around me, but I was frozen, anchored in my grief.

Liona knelt beside me again, grabbing my shoulders, trying to shake me out of it. "Azura... talk to me. Please. Tell me what happened."

I was barely responsive, my eyes staring at the empty air where Amanda had been. My world was shattered, a mosaic of loss and terror.

Genevieve stepped forward, looking down at me. Her voice was cold, harder than I had ever heard it. "Get hold of yourself, Azura. Tears won’t bring them back."

I looked up at her, shocked by the harshness. This didn’t sound like the gentle Genevieve I knew.

"Stand. Now."

I froze, the sheer command in her voice forcing my body to move. I stood up, stumbling slightly, not out of fear, but out of a sudden, desperate respect and trust in her.

The walk back to the pack house was silent, a funeral procession of terrified children and broken adults. No dialogue. Only the sound of footsteps on the dirt path, and the heavy, suffocating weight in my heart.

As we reached the edge of the clearing, I glanced back once. The stream was still flowing cheerfully. The world was still alive, the birds still singing, as if nothing had been stolen. As if this were just a normal day.

The world moved on. But I felt dead inside. If anything should happen to those children, if anything should happen to Amanda, I won’t forgive whoever did this. I won’t forgive myself.