Undying Hate | Book Three

Twelve | Fault

They lit the pyre along with the rising of the sun, the match striking the kindling as the first burning rays breached the horizon. 

The shifters had removed their clothes and turned into their animal counterparts, howling and roaring and huffing as their friend's bodies went up in flame. 

It was quick. 

Too quick. 

Sylvie had no time to process seeing Natalie's body wrapped loosely in muslin before it had turned to ashes.

Rosie sat on her haunches in her fox form, and Sylvie kept peeking at her from her place in Elias' arms. 

She looked well, not like someone who just had a spear punched through their guts. It wasn't until everyone disappeared into the forest to change that Sylvie returned to the present, her mind racing between issues like a metal marble pinball machine. 

"Where's Kian?" she rasped, eyes still glued to the dying flames.

"He's-" Elias' voice halted briefly before saying, "processing."

Sylvie nodded lightly against his chest but didn't believe him. When she turned to look up at him, his eyes looked sunken, and his skin was unbearably pale. "Are you okay?"

"It's just portal sickness. I'll be fine."

Sylvie jerked back. She had completely forgotten about the consequences of shifting back and forth between realms because she felt fine. The realisation hit her like a sack of bricks, and she frowned. "Go back home and rest."

He attempted to raise his brow at her, but she could tell even that exhausted him. "Please. I'll be okay. Rowan, can you help him?"

Rowan walked from the trees, tugging his shirt on and nodded. "Sure. Come on, big guy. Let's get you out of the sun."

Seeing Elias's reluctant but far more pliant attitude, Sylvie bit her lip against the smile that threatened her and turned back to the pyre.

"So that's it then," she whispered.

"Not at all," a silky voice replied. 

Sylvie whipped around and sighed. "Claudine." She had never expected to be so casual with Rowan's ex, but the strawberry-blonde bombshell kept popping up randomly.

"Do you know any shifter superstition?"

Gnawing her lip, Sylvie shrugged. "No."

"Well have you heard that energy can't be created or destroyed, only changed from one form of energy to another?"

"I- I guess."

"Well, we believe that when a shifter dies, their energy, essence, and souls become us." She strode forward and warmed her hands near Natalie's ashes. "Their memory can never die because it becomes our own, and their image stays alive in the minds of those who love them." 

The wind picked up, drawing a tiny speckling of ash from the pyre. It floated around Sylvie's head before drifting off into the trees, and for a brief moment inside the tormenting chaos that was grief, she felt peace.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Claudine walked away like the weight of many memories sat on her shoulders, and Sylvie understood her better. She almost wished they could've talked longer, especially when Rosie materialised by her side.

"Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Well, I had to sneak up on you in case you were avoiding me."