Chapter 105: Sanctuary
Artis stirred awake slowly. Her body was heavy with exhaustion, and a dull, throbbing ache seemed to radiate from everywhere at once. Since she lived in the Whispering Woods, she woke up every day on soft grass or gravel, but today was different.
The surface beneath Artis was a real bed, with clean sheets and a warm blanket pulled up to her chest. The air smelled faintly of wood smoke and fresh herbs. It was cozy and safe.
It took the girl a moment to remember the pain, the fight, the blinding flash of that golden spark from the Orb of Justice that almost killed her.
Regardless, Artis was alive, which was unexpected. How?
Her golden-green eyes fluttered open fully, taking in the small, dimly lit room. It had wooden walls, a simple dresser, and a single window with curtains drawn back to let in light.
Outside, steam rose lazily from a natural geyser, bubbling up from cracked earth surrounded by mossy rocks. This was the hidden spot in the wilderness, the clearing by the hot springs where she and Ethan had once taken refuge, evading a horde of rampaging orcs.
It was in a camp that they had made love here under the stars. How was this possible?
Artis pushed herself up on her left elbow, wincing as pain shot through her. Her right side felt wrong. Empty. She looked down, and her breath caught.
Her right arm was completely gone. The stump was sealed, and there was no wound or blood, but the skin around it was pale and scarred.
She focused, willing her dark nymph regeneration to kick in, just like it always had for cuts, breaks, and even lost limbs in the past. However, the ability did not work.
Panic crept in. She tried shifting into her wolf form, drawing on that primal power. Her body twitched, fur rippling faintly under her skin. Still, it stagnated halfway, her ears sharpening slightly, the claws extending a fraction before retreating. She was stuck and weakened beyond repair.
"Ethan..." she whispered, her voice hoarse.
The door to the bedroom creaked open, and there he was—Ethan, her love, her master, her partner, looking tired but relieved. Behind him, the three boys tumbled in, still in human form, their faces lighting up when they saw her awake.
"Mother!" Lupin rushed forward first, the eldest, his athletic frame moving with that youthful energy. Sylvan and Grimm were right behind, their eyes wide with worry.
Artis managed a weak smile, sitting up fully now. She reached out with her left arm and pulled them close one by one, caressing their heads, ruffling their hair like she always did.
Lupin's strong jaw, Sylvan's mischievous grin, and Grimm's serious eyes. They were perfect, her beautiful boys. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she held them.
"Are you okay? Does it hurt badly?" Sylvan asked.
"We're so glad you're awake," Grimm added, hugging her side gently.
Lupin just buried his face against her shoulder, holding on tight.
"I'm here, my brave ones," Artis murmured, her voice cracking. "I'm okay now. I assume your father rescued us. He never disappoints."
She looked up at Ethan, standing in the doorway with a soft expression. He was as handsome as ever. He had actually grown taller for his age, and his features had become sharper, with that intelligent glint in his eyes that always made her feel safe.
Even now, observing her pain, he seemed to be calculating and thinking ahead.
"Ethan," she said softly, wiping the tears with her good hand. "How did we get to this place? What is this cabin? What happened with the angels? I remember the attack that almost dragged me into darkness. Then suddenly I fell through some kind of trap door in the ground."
Ethan stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. The boys made room but stayed close, clustered around her like protective pups. He took her remaining hand gently, his thumb stroking her skin affectionately.
"It's our family home," he explained, voice calm and steady. "But it is also literally called HOME. One of the items in my magical inventory. I can summon this cabin once a day."
"It's got everything basic—a bedroom, a hall, a kitchen, and a washroom. The home isn't much, but it is cozy, safe, and hidden from the outside. Most importantly, the doors can open anywhere I want."
"They are portals basically. When I felt your distress through our bond, I tracked you fast, opened the trap doors right under you all, and pulled you through before the angel's fatal attack hit you."
Artis stared at him, still incredulous of how such a thing was possible. In all the centuries she lived, nobody ever came to her rescue. She had to live a thousand painful deaths, tortured, maimed, and hated, forced to live like vermin.
Ethan was different. Not only did he love her and give her a family, but he also came to the rescue when needed. She squeezed his hand. "You saved us. I knew you would come. I knew it."
She pulled him into a hug, careful of her missing arm, burying her face in his neck. His familiar scent was comforting, and it made her sob quietly.
The boys joined in, piling on for a family embrace. Ethan held them all, his arms strong around her curvaceous form.
Even injured, Artis was stunning. Her long green hair cascaded wildly, and her full breasts pressed against him through her torn clothes. The handicap couldn't dim her wild beauty. Ethan wished the boys weren't around right now.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "This is my fault. The angels think I'm some agent sent by the Chaste Devil or whatever twisted name they have for evil down here. They want to eliminate me and anyone connected to me, by blood or otherwise, especially our children."
Artis pulled back slightly, searching his face. Her golden-green eyes were fierce despite the tears. "But what can we do? They're so powerful, Ethan."
"I fought angels a century ago, and this is the first time I have seen them since then. The twins Rachel and Rochel are formidable assassins who have never lost a single battle. That orb took my arm permanently. I can't even shift properly anymore."
Ethan's jaw tightened, his mind racing as always. He observed her stump, noting the sealed wound, the way her regeneration failed.
"They're strong," he admitted. "With my current level and spells, I can't take them head-on and survive. But I have a new ally now. Someone who can help us turn this battle around."
Artis blinked, hope flickering in her eyes. "Who?"
Ethan smiled faintly, standing and helping her to her feet. The boys supported her too, careful not to hurt her, but curious about the incoming guest.
"She's waiting outside. The cabin only holds a max of five people—a limit of the HOME item. She had to stay out."
They moved through the small hall. It had wooden floors, a simple table with chairs, and a kitchen nook with basic supplies. It felt like a real home, warm and inviting.
Artis leaned on Ethan, her body brushing against his, that natural sensuality still there even in weakness. She ached for him, but felt ugly, now that she was handicapped. Was her partner still attracted to her?
As they reached the door, Ethan paused. "Are you ready? Try not to be too shocked."
She nodded, and he opened it. As they stepped out, the cabin shimmered, folding in on itself like paper. The walls collapsed inward, the furniture vanishing into wisps of light. In seconds, it compacted into a glowing ball that zoomed straight into Ethan's chest and was absorbed into his inventory.
Outside, the air was crisp, steam from the geyser misting the clearing. And there, standing tall and imposing, was an eight-foot-tall woman.
Her wings were spread wide—massive, feathered plumes that caught the lights. She was voluptuous beyond reason—enormous breasts straining against minimal golden armor that barely covered anything.
The woman's deep cleavage was on full display, along with an athletic back, wide hips, and thick, powerful thighs. She had long legs, a toned midriff, and platinum golden hair flowing in the breeze.
The boys froze for a split second, their eyes widening in recognition and fear.
"Angel!" Lupin snarled.
In unison, they transformed, their bodies rippling as they shifted into massive direwolves. With their fur bristling and fangs bared, they were ready to lunge at the perceived similar threat that almost killed their mother.