Epsilon [Werewolf]

Chapter 60

I didn't know how much time had passed. Hours, days, weeks... I really couldn't say. All I knew was the maddening dripping of water, the darkness surrounding me, and the thin lining of mildew in my lungs that rendered it difficult to breathe.

Alia's transformation had stopped a while ago, and she'd remained still on the ground ever since. I'd called out to her, begging her to wake up, but she didn't respond. In her cell, I could see that her clothes had been shredded, her skin torn in places. I didn't know if she was dead or not -- a fact that drove me insane.

There was a lot of silence from Zion's end, too. His frantic calls had stopped long ago. He'd muttered something about the wolfsbane kicking in, but I didn't quite register it over Alia's snarling. Before long, his head was drooping along with his shudders, and then he was out. Then, as though fate really had it out for me, the torch nearest to his cell had guttered, leaving him in total darkness. It was too dark to check if he was still breathing, to search for any signs of life. I didn't know if he was alive, dead, or lost somewhere in between. It was to the point where I'd convinced myself I was the last living soul in this dungeon.

Tears had welled, silent and hot as they trailed down my cheeks. Sometimes, they had come out as violent sobs, raw and guttural. Other times, they were silent, steady tears; numbing. 

I cried until my eyes stung, until my throat had swollen to the point where it was difficult to breathe. By then, I almost felt... nothing.

I lifted my head from its space between my knees, staring at the small bowl that had been deposited inside my prison. People had come by to deliver food to our cells, not without some vile words to Zion before they left. Never Azriel, though -- he hadn't come by since he'd thrown me in here. I considered it a blessing. 

I inhaled the mildewed air, the scent of the soup becoming ever-more appetising to my senses. I wasn't going to eat, I decided. No, I'd rather die down here than be Azriel's puppet. More than that, I felt I deserved such a fate.

Desperate for a distraction, I looked towards Alia's cage, straining to see any movement, for any hint of life. Nothing. Not so much as a breath. I swallowed my fear, along with the sinking suspicion that I'd killed my friend. 

"Kyra..." a voice breathed from the darkness. It was so quiet, I thought I was hallucinating. That was until it came again, "Kyra, are you awake?"

I rushed to my bars quicker than lightning, straining my eyes in the direction of Zion. Darkness still cloaked his cell. 

"Zion?" I whispered, "You're alive?"

Silence. Hadn't we been in this situation, I would've taken that silence for smugness.

"Yes, I'm alive," he said, voice weak yet spirited. I could almost feel his sad grin. "It takes more than a little wolfsbane to kill me."

I bit back a sob of relief. Thank god... thank god he'd lived. I hadn't allowed myself to contemplate what I'd do if he died. I'd blocked it from my mind, resisting its instant tugs. I didn't want to think about it, even when it became ever more plausible.

I blew out a shuddering breath. Alive, I reminded myself. Alive.

Silence ensued. I didn't know what to say, and it seemed he didn't, either. 

When it became unbearable, I blurted the first thing that came to mind, "Zion, I'm sorry for not heeding your warning. I should've listened to you; I was stupid an naïve."

Silence, followed by a low sigh. "It's fine, Kyra," he assured, though he sounded far from fine. "I can't blame you; my beta-alpha bond stops me from speaking treason, so it wasn't like I could convey the clearest message. Looking back, I can see why you wouldn't believe me."