Chapter 427: WELCOME TO THE COVENSTEAD

Rhydian;

I don’t lower my sword as I stare at the young woman. Neither does Igma.

She notices this, and instead of looking offended, she laughs softly. Like we’ve done something to amuse her.

“Good,” She breathes as she nods, and my brows furrow.

Good?

“I would’ve been disappointed if two Alpha heirs wandered into an unfamiliar village without their guard up.” She says, and I blink.

The words catch me off guard… She isn’t mocking our caution. She’s praising it. Now, whether it’s genuine or not is another question.

She turns gracefully, her dark curls swaying behind her cloak.

“Come.” She says rather causally as she turns around, but I stay rooted to the spot. Neither Igma nor I moves.

I glance toward the tree line and see that the creatures are still exactly where they were earlier. Watching…Waiting.

The woman looks over her shoulder, and I look back at her.

“…Well?” She calls, and silence stretches between us.

Igma’s horse shifts uneasily beside mine, and I once again look between the monsters…and the village.

There isn’t much of a decision to make.

“They’re herding us,” I mutter under my breath, but Igma hears it either way and nods.

“They already did.” She whispers back, and I hate how right she is.

If those things wanted us dead…we would already be dead.

I slowly sheath my sword, and Igma does the same after a brief hesitation. I don’t know what risk lies ahead. But I must ensure no harm comes to Igma.

Without another word, we follow the woman in.

The deeper we walk into the village…the less sense anything makes. I had prepared my mind for darkness.

For… bones hanging from trees, human skulls, altars stained with blood—Cages, torture, and possibly even mad laughter echoing between ruined huts.

However—

A little girl nearly crashes into my horse while chasing a glowing blue butterfly.

“Oh!” She gasps as she looks up at me with impossibly bright green eyes.

“I’m sorry!” She chirps, and before I can respond, another child races after her.

“Lyra! Wait!”

Both children disappear around a cottage, laughing, and I blink.

My eyes follow them until they’re gone, and I find my mind struggling to understand what just happened despite how…simple it was.

“They—” I stop halfway, because what? What was I about to say?

They’re children. Just…Children.

Somehow, I wasn’t expecting to see children here…

With every trot my horse makes, I realise that the village stretches farther than I initially realised.

Circular cottages built from what appears to be ancient timber sit beneath towering trees whose roots somehow weave into stone pathways.

Some roofs are covered in flowering vines instead of straw, and others seem almost…alive.

All I can see is…Magic.

Everywhere.

Not violent or dangerous magic, but the simple kind. The…comfortable type.

All I can see around me are lived-in…comfortable people.

My eyes flick to an elderly woman who is watering a garden without touching the bucket beside her. I watch in wonderment as ribbons of water float lazily through the air, dancing around vegetables before gently soaking the soil.

Nearby, a young man accidentally sneezes, and three chickens suddenly begin floating.

“…Mother!” he shouts, and an older woman comes out of the cabin, sighing dramatically.

“I told you not to practice before breakfast.” She scolds as she flicks her fingers.

The chickens immediately drift back onto the ground and resume pecking at seeds as though nothing happened.

Igma stares, and I understand her awe…because I share it too.

We both remain silent as we take in the sight before us.

The woman leading us never looks back. Not once. It’s almost as if she’s decided we aren’t foolish enough to attack her.

Or perhaps… She knows something I don’t.

That thought makes me scan our surroundings more carefully now. There are people everywhere.

Families, children, elderly witches sitting beneath trees weaving glowing thread together…Young men repairing rooftops, and women carrying baskets filled with herbs.

There are no guards. Or… Maybe there are just no obvious guards.

My eyes drift across rooftops, and that’s when I see them. Three figures. Watching. Hidden well enough that most people wouldn’t notice. But I do.

My wolf’s instincts sharpen as I sight them, and my spine instantly straightens.

Their eyes meet mine briefly before disappearing into the trees. Interesting… I was right about something at least. This place isn’t as simple as it looks.

“You’re counting exits.” A voice breaks into my thoughts, and when I look back down, I realise that it’s the woman who’s leading us.

“I beg your pardon?” I question, but she doesn’t so much as look over her shoulder. She just continues ahead.

“You’ve been studying rooftops, alleyways, windows, blind corners…” She says softly, and my brows crease.

How does she know that if she hasn’t even turned once?

“…You’ve also looked over your shoulder eleven times since entering our village.” She adds, and this time, Igma turns to me with one raised eyebrow.

The woman chuckles, and we both turn to her.

“I would’ve done the same.” She adds, but I say nothing.

She doesn’t seem bothered by it, but honestly I couldn’t care any less.

We pass another open space, and my forehead creases. This space is filled with herbs. Hundreds of them.

Plants I’ve never seen before grow alongside flowers that seem to glow faintly beneath the afternoon light.

Several women kneel among them, carefully whispering to the leaves. I watch these strangely dressed women whisper tenderly to the plants and the plants actually respond.

Passing by them, I realise something. Magic isn’t feared here. It’s…Loved. Normal.

Almost even…harmless

The thought makes me uneasy. Because this isn’t what I know magic to be. I’ve seen magic before. It almost killed me. It almost killed Queen Cassia.

Magic isn’t for gardening, or making chickens float! Magic is deadly. Dangerous! Evil.

Witches twist nature. Corrupted it…Bend it until it becomes ugly. That’s what I’ve known my whole life.

Yet everything here feels… Alive. Beautiful…Peaceful.

It’s wrong…Could this all be an illusion? A set-up? Something to make us lower our guards??

“Disappointed?” Her voice breaks into my thoughts again, and I look at her.

She finally turns around completely, and I take a breath. She walks backwards this time, and my brows crease. What the fuck is she doing? Those silver markings around her wrists glow faintly beneath her sleeves, and I stare at them for a moment before my eyes lift to hers.

“You expected monsters?” She questions, and Igma clears her throat uncomfortably beside me.

I know that her warning to me to stay silent, so I respect it. But the woman keeps staring at me like she’s waiting for an answer, so I sigh.

“…Yes,” I confess, and I hear Igma silently groan beside me.

There’s no point lying. Not now…Not after everything I’ve seen.

I expected monsters, and I’m rather confused that I don’t see any.

The woman before us nods once.

“Most Beastmen do.” She replies, and I realise that there isn’t bitterness in her voice.

Neither is there any accusation. Just…Fact.

She suddenly stops walking, and Igma and I pull our horses to stop as well.

“As children, you’re taught to fear us.” She shrugs, and I blink at her.

I don’t deny it, because she isn’t wrong, but what’s the point of bringing it up now?

She turns around and begins walking again.

“We’re also taught to fear you.” She says casually, and that makes me pause.

“What?” Igma questions as her horse starts following, and I follow silently.

The woman glances back before softly throwing her hands in the air.

“The stories differ.” She replies, and I frown.

“What stories?” I can’t help but ask, and she chuckles.

“The ones where Beastmen eat witches.” She replies, and my heart stops.

“That’s absurd. We don’t eat…” I begin, but she cuts me off with a laugh.

“I know. Beastmen don’t eat people.” She replies, and I blink.

I look over at Igma, and Igma looks at me with scepticism in her eyes.

Something about that exchange leaves an unpleasant feeling sitting inside my chest.

If their stories about us are wrong…How many of ours about them are wrong too…?

A tiny figure suddenly darts across the path. A little boy. Perhaps five years old or thereabouts.

He stops directly in front of Igma, and my hand moves to the hilt of my sword instantly. Igma pulls her startled horse to a stop, and the boy walks to her side.

The child looks up at her with enormous golden eyes before getting on his tiptoes and holding out a single blue flower.

“For you.” He says, and Igma blinks.

“…For me?” She questions, shooting me a glance for a second.

He nods enthusiastically as he holds the flower even higher.

“Yes. It matches your hair, and you looked sad.” He replies, and Igma’s lips part.

She cautiously accepts the flower even though I almost scream at her not to.

“Thank you.” She whispers, and the little boy beams, then runs away laughing.

I stare after him, unable to move.

Father once told me…”Never trust a smiling warlock.”

Yet…That child couldn’t have been older than five. What exactly was he hiding?

Nothing.

He wasn’t hiding anything. He was…Just kind.

The realisation unsettles me far more than if he’d pulled a knife. Because monsters are easier to understand… than kindness.

Igma and I catch up with the woman who’s still walking ahead. She finally slows before a massive oak tree standing near the centre of the village, and once again, Igma and I stop.

The tree’s trunk is wider than an entire house. Ancient symbols pulse beneath its bark like veins carrying silver light, and I find myself staring upward.

“…How old is this tree?” I whisper, and the woman answers proudly.

“Older than kingdoms.”

She places one gentle hand against the bark and looks at Igma and me.

“Our matriarch is waiting.” She says, and Igma and I exchange a glance.

Matriarch?

So…We’re finally about to meet the leader of the Coven?

I don’t know whether that’s fortunate… or the beginning of a disaster.

I mean, I know we came looking for the Coven to save Alana, but it’s starting to look like this place isn’t capable of doing the horrible things Bram claimed.

I make to speak when she suddenly lifts one finger.

Silver light flashes beneath our horses. As hundreds of strange symbols come to life.

Igma instantly draws her sword, but light explodes from the symbols and my whole body locks. Every muscle freezes.

I try moving my arm, but nothing happens. My fingers refuse to move, and even my wolf cannot answer me.

“Igma!” I call in worry, but her panicked voice answers me

“I can’t move!”

Panic grips my heart.

Her horse whinnies violently beneath her, but even it cannot step away from the glowing circle now beneath us.

“What have you done?” I growl, but the witch holds my gaze with no remorse in those eyes of hers.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, and I grit my teeth. How could I fall for this?!

Soon enough, I hear footsteps. Many of them.

I struggle against the spell, but nothing happens. Absolutely nothing.

Several witches appear from behind the cottages carrying rough sacks.

For one ridiculous heartbeat…I hope they’re carrying grain, until one walks directly toward me.

Then, realisation crashes into me.

“No.”

They pull me off my horse, and the sack is thrown over my head. Darkness swallows everything.

“Igma!”

“I’m here!” She answers with her voice, sounding somewhere to my left.

Hands seize my arms, and I lose whatever is left of my composure.

“What is the meaning of this?!” I roar, but I get no answer.

Only footsteps, voices, and the rustle of cloth.

Someone ties my wrists, while the sack muffles every sound until the world becomes nothing but darkness and breathing.

Then…Someone speaks close enough for only me to hear.

“…Don’t struggle, Alpha.” The witch from earlier whispers.

“The Matriarch has been waiting a very long time to meet you.” She adds, and the words bite into me like icy water.

Waiting…For me? I clench my jaw.

Whatever this place truly is… Whatever game these witches are playing…

We’ve just stepped far deeper into it than either of us realised.

They were expecting us! They knew we were coming. We walked right into a trap. What now?? Who’s this matriarch?? What do they want??

The Peony Beneath His Sword is out now. I hope you enjoy it