For the Broken

2 🔴 Empty

"Welp, that went as well as—" Desmond's voice trailed off, and he drew back the living room curtains for the umpteenth time. "You know what?" His finger tapped against his lip as he contemplated. "I can't recall a single instance when things went the way they were meant to."

Osiris clenched his teeth, sinking into the armchair that Sera had vacated moments ago. The scent of her lingered, and being here was as close as he could get to soothing his restless wolf.

He buried his head in his hands. "I'm out of ideas. I've tried everything."

"Everything?" Desmond questioned.

Osiris raised his head, meeting Desmond's gaze as he leaned against the windowsill.

"Yes, everything. I took her for a run. Went out to dinner. Cooked for her. Got her a pile of books she adores. Damn, I even gave her space, even though it's tearing me apart." He let his head fall back against the chair, shutting his eyes. "I'm starting to get scared."

"Have you tried talking to her?"

The incredulity painted across Osiris' face was impossible to miss. Had he really just asked that? As if Desmond hadn't seen him try to talk with her.

Desmond sighed. "Maybe you should try again."

"I'd have more luck chatting with a doorknob. She won't talk, not to me or anyone. Ivy's attempted, and so have you. She's avoiding everyone."

"Then this time, don't back down. Do it in a place where she can't escape."

Osiris was shaking his head before Desmond even finished his suggestion. "No, I can't do that to her."

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Can't or won't?" He paused, waiting for an answer he already knew he wouldn't receive. "She's evading pain and thoughts. She's terrified of confronting herself, Oz, and the longer she runs from it, the worse it'll get. Make her face the realities she's shielding herself from."

"It'll destroy her."

"And what's happening now won't?"

Desmond was right. Sera was tearing herself apart, unwilling to face the truth that she'd ended so many lives. She couldn't confront the fact that she couldn't save her parents. Nor could she accept that the inferno within her would always remain because of her fervent desire to find her other half.

Guilt and remorse consumed her. If she hadn't pushed herself to unearth her wolf, none of this would have occurred. If she'd embraced her human self, Seraphina, rather than chasing her lupine side, her parents would still be alive.

But now they were gone, interred near the mountain peak she had ignited.

Visiting that site was a step she couldn't take. The thought of seeing those stones resting above her parents' bodies... it was too much.

"She's on the brink of falling apart," Desmond continued, circling around the sofa to sit.

"It's only a matter of time and circumstances. It'd be better if you helped her confront it."

"I've been trying."

"But you haven't forced her to confront it. You've let her stew in her sorrow as if one day she'll wake up and forget what happened. Grief doesn't work like that," he said, his tone gentler. "You, more than anyone, know what grief feels like. We lost our parents too."

Osiris clenched his lips, his knuckles cracking under the pressure of his clenched fist.

It had been years since that tragedy. More than a decade had passed, yet Osiris remembered his feelings in the wake of his parents' demise. Amid the chaos, he'd felt almost nothing—his mind switched to survival mode, focusing on rescuing Desmond from Malacoda's clutches.

But true grief didn't strike him until a year later when he finally shifted. He'd always envisioned his parents' beaming faces, radiating pride. It was a moment he was meant to share with them, snatched away in an instant.

He could still remember his first run after shifting. Through the forest he tore, fueled by anger and misery.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to be," he'd whispered to himself. "It was never meant to be like this."

"I understand," he murmured. "Phina's masking her grief like a burden. I peeked into her mind one night while she slept." He wasn't proud of invading her thoughts, but he needed to know. Needed to ensure he wouldn't lose his mate to spiraling despair.

He could still feel it—how dark and cold it was in her mind. An abyss of emptiness, a far cry from the blazing furnace he was accustomed to. There was not a hint of gold, save for the bond that linked them.

"She's numbing herself. All I saw was emptiness."

"So, start pushing back. Even when she resists, push back. Don't let her feel alone. She might act as though she prefers it that way, but emptiness is a heavy burden. To bear it all alone..." Desmond stood up, "...well, the weight of that could crush anyone. I know."

Desmond knew that sensation intimately. Losing parents wasn't easy, especially as a child. But losing them in a heartbeat, that was a burden heavier than any.

No one talked about the 'what-ifs' and 'what could have beens,' but that's all Desmond was consumed by after their passing. He'd never again see his mother's smile as he offered her a handmade necklace from school. He'd never experience their pride when he first shifted. He'd never feel their embrace one last time.

His thoughts once consumed him.

He used to spend hours contemplating what their embrace might've felt like. Days would slip away in thoughts of them, and before he knew it, stars twinkled in the night sky, yet his focus remained unchanged.

How hollow those days were. How empty his thoughts used to be. A child clinging to a dream forever out of reach.

Osiris vividly remembered the broken boy Desmond once was, holding onto innocence when he had to deliver the news of their parents' fate. Even as Osiris himself struggled to cope, he couldn't admit his vulnerability to his brother. How could he, when he was all Desmond had left? They clung to each other, their final lifeline.

Desmond sauntered toward the kitchen. "Want anything?"

Shaking his head, Osiris stood. "No, thanks. I think I'll head upstairs and freshen up before dinner."

Desmond sensed there was more behind that statement. "Good luck," he said, stepping away.

Osiris climbed the stairs with caution. He could discern the soft shuffle of Sera's bare feet on the wooden floor. She paced almost mindlessly, her steps an erratic dance, now hastened, now suspended mid-stride and repeated.

His hand trembled as he reached for the bedroom door handle.

He hated that he now hesitated before entering his own bedroom. How could he not? Sera flinched at every sound, recoiled at every word he uttered. His voice struck her like scalding venom.

It didn't matter if he simply inquired about her well-being; his words penetrated her ears like fiery daggers in her mind. The pain was excruciating.

Pushing the door open, he entered. It was like ripping off a bandage. Sera perched on the windowsill, her knees pulled close to her chest.

He stripped off his shirt and pants, tossing them into the laundry pile before heading into the bathroom for a shower.

Summer was in full swing, even up in the mountains, the heat was relentless.

The bond between them pulsed, tugging at his heart. He wanted her to follow, regardless of his fear.

Their bond chain gleamed with gold. He reminisced how her wolf half had bathed their link in gold when they first accepted the bond. That gold extended beyond their connection. It seemed to saturate his very essence in her sunny hue.

He tugged at the bond once more as he turned on the shower. Still, there was no response. It had become a one-way path; a barren road with no lights, no soul to guide him.

Where had her golden fire gone?

He refrained from pulling at the bond again, allowing her the space she sought. But for how long could he let her self-loathing continue?