The Secret That Refused to Stay Buried and That Followed Us Home 3

The Secret That Refused to Stay Buried and That Followed Us Home 3 Summary

The narrator reveals to Scott that Soul-Devouring Sorcery can be cleansed only by a mate blessed by the Moon Goddess who offers their own Life Source. Scott is skeptical but quickly takes the narrator to the Shaman for confirmation. The Shaman confirms the ritual is possible but warns that giving up one’s Life Source is almost always fatal for a human. Despite Scott’s protests, the narrator insists on undergoing the ritual to save Joanna and repay a debt to both Joanna and Scott.

 

The ritual is excruciatingly painful as the narrator lies in the rune circle while Scott covers their eyes to shield them from the agony. The narrator’s life force is drained as a golden light transfers from them to Joanna, who is pale and in a dire state. After the ritual, the narrator wakes up weak and hooked to a heart monitor, while Scott sits exhausted by their side. The narrator explains they did it so Scott can be with Joanna without guilt.

 

Scott offers to take the narrator to Seattle for better medical care, but the narrator refuses and announces their intention to leave, wanting Scott and Joanna to be happy without any further debts between them. After Scott leaves to tend to Joanna, the narrator quietly escapes from the medical center with the Shaman’s help, leaving a letter for Scott explaining their departure.

 

Later, Scott discovers the narrator’s hospital room empty and receives the letter from the Shaman. News soon spreads that a bus carrying Elena Miller—presumably the narrator—crashed and burned on a mountain road, with the bodies unrecognizable due to the fire. The chapter ends on this tragic and mysterious note.

“There is a way,” I said, biting my lip, determination flickering in my eyes despite the storm of fear inside me.

Scott’s gaze locked onto mine, searching for some hidden meaning. “What way?” he asked, voice low and cautious.

I took a steadying breath. “Soul-Devouring Sorcery can be cleansed,” I explained, my voice firm even though my heart pounded wildly. “Only a mate blessed by the Moon Goddess, who offers their own Life Source, can purify it.”

His eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding them. “How do you know that?” he demanded.

I lied without hesitation. “The Shaman told me.” The truth was far darker—memories of Joanna’s suffering in a past life haunted me, but I kept that secret buried.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Scott grabbed my wrist, his grip tight and unyielding, almost painful. “Let’s go,” he said sharply.

We raced through the thick forest, the air heavy with pine and damp earth, until we reached the Shaman’s cabin—a small, weathered wooden hut nestled among towering trees. Inside, the flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls as the Old Shaman ground herbs with deliberate, practiced movements.

Scott wasted no time. “Shaman, is it true? Can a human’s Life Source undo Soul-Devouring Sorcery?”

The Shaman looked up, surprise flickering across his lined face before settling into a grave expression as he glanced at me. “Yes, Alpha. But…” he hesitated.

“But what?” Scott pressed, voice sharp.

“For a human, giving up their Life Source is almost always fatal,” the Shaman said with a heavy sigh. “She will most likely die.”

Scott’s grip on my wrist suddenly slackened. He turned away, his back stiff, shoulders tense. “No,” he whispered.

I stepped forward, voice steady and resolute. “I’m willing.”

Scott spun back to face me, shock and anger battling in his eyes. “Are you insane? Why would you do this?”

I met his gaze without flinching. “This is what I owe Joanna. And what I owe you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again, the turmoil plain on his face.

“Prepare the ritual, Shaman,” I commanded, not giving Scott a chance to object.

The Old Shaman exhaled slowly and rose. “Alpha, the ritual will be excruciating. Are you sure you want to witness it?”

Scott said nothing, but his eyes told me he wouldn’t leave my side.

An hour later, the ritual space was ready. Intricate runes were etched into the earth, surrounded by seven black candles flickering in the dim light. Joanna was brought in, her face pale as parchment, eyes pitch black, dark blood smeared around her lips—a haunting sight.

“Begin,” the Shaman ordered, motioning for me to lie at the center of the runes.

Suddenly, Scott took off his leather jacket and gently covered my eyes with it.

“Don’t look,” he whispered, voice soft and almost tender. “It’s going to hurt terribly.”

In the darkness, I felt his steady presence beside me. “I’ll make it up to you… no matter what,” he promised.

The ritual began.

Pain exploded inside me, like thousands of knives piercing every inch of my body simultaneously. My screams echoed in my ears as I felt my insides being torn apart. Blood streamed from my nose, ears, and eyes.

Through the haze, I saw a golden light burst from my chest, shooting toward Joanna. Her agonized cries mixed with my own.

Then… darkness swallowed everything.

When I finally awoke, the steady beep of a heart monitor greeted me.

“You’re awake,” Scott said softly.

Turning my head, I saw him sitting beside me, his face drawn and eyes bloodshot from exhaustion.

“Joanna…” I croaked.

“She’s stable now,” Scott replied quietly. “Because of you.”

I closed my eyes, weakness washing over me. My life force had been drained severely—this was the price of offering my Life Source.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, confusion and something else I couldn’t quite place coloring his tone.

I managed a small smile. “So you don’t owe me anything. You can be with Joanna without guilt.”

Scott frowned. “The Shaman said you’ll need at least three months to heal fully. I was thinking… maybe I could take you to Seattle. Their hospitals are the best for humans. As… compensation.”

His offer stabbed at my heart. The old pattern repeated—guilt, not love.

“No need, Scott,” I said softly. “I plan to leave this place.”

“What?” He jumped up, startled.

“There are no more debts between us.” I met his gaze firmly. “I want you and Joanna to be happy.”

Scott’s mouth opened, but before he could speak, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting. “It’s Joanna… she’s awake…”

“Go to her,” I said, turning away.

After a pause, he finally left.

Once the door closed behind him, I struggled to sit up and change into fresh clothes. The Shaman had already prepared everything—discharge papers forged, medication packed, and a bus ticket for tonight.

I left a letter with the Shaman, to be given to Scott:

“By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Don’t look for me; this is my choice. I’ve fulfilled my mission. Be happy, Alpha.”

At 7 PM, I slipped quietly out of the pack’s medical center.

By 10 PM, when Scott burst into my hospital room and found it empty, the Shaman handed him my letter.

And just past midnight, news spread like wildfire across the pack lands—a long-distance bus heading out of town had lost control on a treacherous mountain road, careened off a cliff, and erupted into flames. Among the passenger list was the unmistakable name: Elena Miller.

The fire had been so fierce that the bodies were charred beyond recognition.