Chapter 48

CHAPTER 48

Conri's eyes are wide. As if, for the first time, he was confronted with death itself—with his own fleeting mortality and the notion that he was not the god-king he so clearly thought he was. Even at the end, frozen forever in his wolfish form, he has never looked so human. For the first time, I see the man in the monster, and I cannot even manage pity. Not when he found that soul far too late.

Not when Aurora is bleeding next to him.

I wrest my arm from underneath Conri, feeling the bones stretch and tendons snap. It aches and my fingers are hard to move. But they do move. Which means I can help.

Do something, Faelyn! I scream at myself, vaulting over Conri in my scramble to get to Aurora. It barely registers that Evander is moving as well. Still slowed by the last chain I hadn't managed to free him of. But much faster than he was.

"Aurora, Aurora please. Hold on." My words are as frantic as my movements. Her throat has been savaged from one side down through her collar. I don't even know where best to apply pressure to try and staunch the bleeding but I press my palm into the loose and bloody flesh anyway. Her eyes flutter and she rasps out a weak breath. I curse in frustration, at the cruelty of fate and the fear of what her injuries might mean for us all.

This body cannot be killed by natural means…to kill me would take a magical act, intent by a mortal hand. Her words return to me as horror settles upon my shoulders.

I reach for my pouch of threads but grab only empty air. That's right, they stripped me of everything. And I was too tired to fight it. Too weary from the world to protest when they took my strongest, and only, weapon from me.

"I can fix this." My attention darts to the wolves, all standing in shock and horror. "Get my bag of threads." No one moves. "She's dying. Do it now!" I shout with a rage and authority I didn't know myself capable of. One of the women darts away.

"Faelyn…" Aurora croaks.

"Don't try to talk," I command. Evander is at our side. "Hold her throat, stop the bleeding." He does as I ask. I reach for my cape, going for one embroidered shape out of a constellation of many—a heart done in crimson thread, vitality and luck. Bringing it to my teeth, I tear through the thread, frantically ripping at the stitching to pull it out.

She speaks anyway. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Please don't talk. I can fix you."

"I couldn't…earlier…I couldn't do it earlier. I had to leave the lykin's territory to be free of my vow. To break…to harm him."

"You…" I still as the connection is made in my mind. But then I resume my stitch-ripping with fervor. "You knew that we would probably be caught the night we fled, didn't you?"

"As long…as we made it out of…lykin territory." Her eyes open long enough to meet mine and she gives me a wry smile. "I truly hoped…we would leave. But if we didn't… It had to be me. I had to do it."

This whole time, she was going along with our plans, hoping they worked, that they were good enough to free her. But in the back of her mind, behind it all, she was secretly planning a backup. The hunting knife I gave her—that she kept even though it would be "useless" to her. The push for us to keep going and carry on even as Conri had Evander and she must have known I couldn't ever leave him. Those final moments before Conri took us, Aurora continuing to step backward through that ancient town, creeping to the border of lykin territory. So badly she wanted to be free, I knew that, and I explained her every action with that.

But she also wanted vengeance. And either would be good enough.

My eyes prickle. "You shouldn't have."

"Conri was mine to kill—all of the wolf kings were," she says, loud enough for all to hear, straining her voice against the wounds and against the pressure Evander is placing on her throat. "I started this vow. I had to end it."

The thread free, I carefully place it over her neck, over the wound in a zigzag patten as though I am planning how one might stitch the skin back together.

"Yes, and now that he's gone, we'll go to the home of the sirens." I touch one end of the thread, trying to draw out the power from within me.

Aurora lifts the less damaged of her two arms, gently gripping my fingers. Her touch is little more than a butterfly landing on my flesh. But it stills me.

"There is no time… No mending this."

"No."

"Faelyn, you don't have the power to fix this." The words are said as gently as possible. But oh, how they hurt. How inadequate I feel.

"I can?—"

"Only if you draw from my power, and probably still not then."

The other alpha has returned with my sewing kit. She places it by my thigh and promptly backs away. None of the lykin seem to dare encroach on the sacred ground of the grove, still covered in the magic mist of the great wolf spirit.

The great wolf spirit! I look to his perch for help, but he's gone. I don't remember him leaving. Damn him . He probably couldn't have lent assistance; this is no doubt beyond his scope of skill. But blaming him deflects some of the pain from myself. The focus of this being my fault, and mine alone.

"Do not risk using my power. You need to take the rest," Aurora finishes.

"What?" I gasp softly. I hear a sharp inhale from Evander at my side. His brow is furrowed, eyes filled with all the sorrows of the world. In his own way, he, too, loved Aurora. If he didn't care for her, he never would've risked everything to free her months ago.

"Do what you did the first night we met. Take my power into you."

"I don't—I can't—that was an accident."

"You clearly have special talent, Faelyn." Aurora smiles weakly. "You can."

"But that was a ring shattering. It's not the same." I blink feverishly. Many times over. Tears are spilling over my lower lids.

"This body is merely a vessel for my power. It is no different than the ring was." Aurora's words are stronger, unfaltering. Which only makes the blood flow faster between Evander's fingers. "If it is destroyed, the power will be freed, it will seek itself out."

"Can I not give you the power in me instead?" I grasp for any idea that doesn't end with what she's suggesting.

"If you could, we would've done it before," she reminds me gently. "Faelyn, I am tired. I have lived a thousand years and do not wish to exist a thousand more in this form."

"What will happen to her if she takes all your power?" Evander's voice is thick and heavy with emotion. But there's a resignation underneath his words that I want to resent him for. I can't believe he would go along with this. In his worry for me, he is giving up on Aurora. "She cannot be a spirit, can she?"

"I do not know," Aurora admits. "But she has been fine with half. I believe she is strong enough to hold the rest." The optimism is heartwarming, though I can't help but think it's also misplaced. Her eyes open fully, gaze returning to me for what I can't help but feel is the last time. "Please, Faelyn…if it were to be anyone, I'd want it to be you. End this for me."

I blink many times, my vision blurring as the tears I can no longer hold back finally slip free. I grab her fingers with fervor, forgetting about the thread and her wound. I hold on to her like with this one touch alone I could keep her here, as she is. I could keep my friend.

Aurora smiles, her eyes fluttering closed once more. She is utterly at peace. Even the moonbeams that strike her seem to glow brighter.

The woman I have known, in this way, will be gone. But she will live on forever in another form. In me. In the moon that I will greet every night.

"It will be all right," I whisper for her and for me. "No more pain, you have suffered long enough."

Still holding her fingers with one hand, I turn and reach for the knife wedged in Conri's neck, freeing it with a grunt. I wipe the blade on my thigh. The linen shift is already stained in crimson. I wish I had a blade that was not used to kill Conri, a blade that could be for Aurora and Aurora alone. But this is all I have, and there can be no delays.

Setting the knife at my side, I select one of every thread. Loop them around the hilt and then cover them with my fingers. Every bit of essence from me, from my ancestors that wielded this hunting knife through the years as we used it as a tool for our magic—every bit of essence from the spirits we knew and those that are long forgotten. I wrap it all together.

A memory, long forgotten, returns to me. Of a rare time in the woods with my mother as a girl.

Faelyn, someday, there might come a time where you must use your strength to take the life of another. The words were so gentle for their darkness. For the metallic taste they put in my mouth even though I was not the one speaking them. I know. I know, Grandma says that our strength is used only to help this world. But, someday, there could be a need for you to kill. Perhaps it is to save yourself. Perhaps for much needed sustenance to survive a long winter. Whenever this time comes, strike strong and true, my daughter. Do not hesitate. For worse than taking a life is causing suffering while doing so.

"You will not hurt any longer," I vow softly to Aurora. The knife is in my right hand. My left reaches behind her head, cradling it. Evander slowly removes his bloodied palm, exposing the wound.

"Thank you, my friend," she whispers faintly, no longer having the strength to open her eyes.

"It is my honor." I place a gentle kiss on her forehead, positioning the blade over her breastbone. She has never felt so small, so frail. So much blood is soaking the ground around us that it will take little to end this. "Thank you, for all you've done for me."

"It was…my honor."

I thrust.

If I hadn't committed and thrown my weight into it, I might not have punctured through cleanly. But I didn't hesitate, and I feel the moment the last of her life slips from her weary form. I choke back a sob, kissing her forehead once more.

Then, light.

Magic explodes from within her. The blood and gore condenses into the brightest of moonbeams. A shockwave rips through the grove, flinging lykin like rag dolls. Scattering them back and between trees. Even Evander is pushed away. But I am unaffected.

I stay at the center of it, gasping as my friend disappears. As all the might she possessed is freed. Then, like a bowstring pulled taut, it snaps back.

The glow rushes back, not to Aurora, but to me. I feel her power surging through me. Filling me to the point that I throw my head back and lift my chest to the sky, gasping for air. There is no room in me for it. I can hardly breathe and yet I have never felt more alive.

The stars fill my eyes. The dark sky becomes my shadow. I catch a glimpse of the whole world spanning beneath me, as though I have levitated to the moon's vantage. I see flashes of islands, wrapped by clouds. Of cities deep beneath the sea and earth. Of snowy castles long forgotten and bustling towns teeming with life. The world feels small enough to be held in my palm and just as I reach out to touch it?—

It ends.

I am falling. Wind fills my ears. The power sinks deeper and deeper within its new home—into me. The blinding light and visions fade away.

Two strong, familiar arms envelop me. I am encapsulated in Evander's warmth, like a chrysalis that I have yet to emerge from. He strokes my face, looking at me with eyes wide and tender. No longer fearful, but amazed.

"How… Did I?"

"I have you," he murmurs. "You're safe and—thank the old gods—with me."

Then my visions weren't real. Or perhaps they were, in a way. I blink the last of the haze away. The pale glow that covered my body, as if I was the source of moonlight itself, is beginning to fade as well.

The lykin on the upper edge of the grove stand. I'm vaguely aware of their movements as they begin to descend into the soft moss of the lower area. Toward Evander and me. He holds me tighter, pressing my cheek to his chest. It is still bloody, and mud covered, but it is him.

Evander lets out a low growl at those who are approaching. He still has the shackle on. He can't transform and I am in no position to fight, either. Despite the power surging through me, I've no idea how to use it. It is already overwhelming my mind, setting my head to spinning. My body feels as though it is laden with lead.

The alphas stop a few feet away, others in their packs behind them. Then, slowly, they drop to a knee, bringing their fists to the ground and hunching over, dropping their heads in what looks like reverence.

"Keeper of and bound to the moon spirit, we recognize you as our king."