Kyra
******
Smoke stung my nostrils as I summoned fire to my palms, running deeper into the battle. I didn't recognise any of the faces, and the expected scent of pine and snow was nowhere to be found. In fact, nothing clued to these being Southern Wolves at all. They all had this cloying scent -- like honey and mildew -- that not even my smoke could smother.
"This isn't the Southerners, is it?" I yelled, striking a wolf when a fire-enveloped fist. He went down with a yelp.
"No, it's not," Faelen called back, ozone charging the air before a crack sounded a moment later, followed by a gurgling sound. I didn't bother to check where he was -- I knew he was behind me. "In fact, I don't think this attack has anything to do with the South at all."
I grunted my acknowledgement as a red-headed boy charged for me, his face alight with determination. My fireball struck him down before he could get within five yards of me. Another sprung out after him. Then another. Apparently, the enemy was starting to become aware of us now, as our own wolves went down or fought their way out to safety. I noticed with growing desperation that the Northern Thetas were dwindling in number, disappearing like shells under a wave. I summoned more fire to my palms.
"Then who is it--"
"Get the Epsilon!"
I whirled just in time to receive a heavy hit to the face. My flames guttered as I staggered back into oncoming enemy, the world tilting below my feet. I watched as Faelen strode forward and gripped the head of a dark-haired man -- who I presumed must have hit me -- and twisted the man's neck. A sickening snap sounded, and Faelen's eyes burned as he watched the body fall limp to the floor.
Faelen looked up, that fire extinguishing as he stared past me, and in a movement so quick it gave me whiplash, he lunged forward and pulled me into his chest. A gasp ripped from me as he braced one arm around my back and stuck the other out behind me. Electricity jolted through us both before exploding from his hand a moment later. I looked back just in time to see a man topple to the ground, silver dagger clattering down beside him. With a chill, I realised that blade was probably intended for my heart, and Faelen had just saved me from stumbling into it.
My stomach sank. Yes, this certainly wasn't the South, because Azriel wouldn't order his underlings to kill me.
Faelen muttered a curse before whirling me around, his grip hard on my arms. His eyes scanned my face with worry, searching for any injuries, and once he was satisfied I was okay, he released me. His hand lingered on my arm for a moment longer.
"Try not to walk into the enemy's knives, Kyra," Faelen said, pulling away to shoot a bolt in the direction of another wolf.
I turned around, and a few moments later, I felt his back again mine. With a grin, I summoned more flames to my hands. "Good thing I have you to guard my back."
I could sense his smile as we went on the offensive, fighting back-to-back as the enemy's assault continued. As I continued to burn through my enemies whilst he electrocuted his, it almost felt like us against the world. As though nothing could go wrong. As though, so long as I had Faelen to fight by my side, we could take on anything.
And it almost came true. We fought like lions, and before long the smell of charred flesh and ozone filled the room. Bodies of the enemy piled around us, and for a moment, I was convinced we would win.
"Clear shot!"
I whipped my head around just in time to see silver flashing through the air. Time slowed, and the world around me seemed to tilt as the silver bolt shot towards me, making a bee-line for my heart.
I couldn't move. I was frozen like a statue, waiting for the inevitable. I shut my eyes.
A hard weight slammed into my shoulder. I careened to the side, the world tilting around me. A quiet thud sounded, and when I regained enough balance to blink towards the place I just stood, my heart stuttered to a stop.
"Faelen!" I screeched, but it was too late. The bolt protruded from the right side of his chest, its head slick with his blood. Scarlet liquid bloomed from the wound, running down his shirt to drip to the ground. I couldn't see his eyes -- for they were shadowed -- but the set of his jaw told me enough about the pain he was in. Faelen dropped to one knee.
I scrambled for him without thinking, not quite knowing where to put my hands but not quite caring anyway. I gathered him towards me, my stomach like lead. Warm blood inked my skin, and I watched in growing horror as the red grew on his shirt, like a flower unfurling its crimson petals. I placed a hand to his chest, my fingers trembling as I stared into his eyes. He stared back, but his eyes held no terror. Pain, perhaps -- but that was overshadowed by relief.
"How poetic," a voice cut through the crowd, and the battling around us seemed to quiet. I whipped my head around to see a red-haired man emerge from the crowd, his auburn hair long and braided. There was something awfully familiar about his face; it was only the wicked slash of a smile that made him seem foreign. He stopped a few feet away, brown eyes sparkling as they darted between me and Faelen. His cruel smile widened. "The legendary Delta takes the fatal shot in place of some girl. Tell me, Faelen -- when did you become so soft?"
"Well, if it's not the Prick of the East. Leave it to you to initiate such a poor attack," Faelen rasped, blood staining his teeth. For a few moments, I gaped at the man before us. His familiarity made sense now. He was Zion's father.
He smirked. "I wouldn't be talking poor strategy in your position, Delta. Not after you took a fatal shot for some girl." He pouted. "I thought your death would be legendary, as per your status, but I suppose that it just not the case. This is quite a lame way to die."
"She is not just some girl," Faelen replied sharply. I watched with a pounding heart as he hauled himself up and stood to his full height, swaying slightly. I steadied him with my hands, and in the moment our eyes met, he ran his thumb over my arm in a reassuring gesture. Despite bleeding out, despite the obvious pain he was in, he didn't want me to worry. Tears stung my eyes again.
He turned his attention back to the Eastern Alpha, and any softness in his face disappeared as a red-stained smile slashed across his lips. He spat blood on the ground. "And it's going to take more than a little metal and some Wolfsbane to kill me, Ged. I thought you knew that."
I may have felt comforted by his confidence, if I wasn't close enough to hear his rattled breathing. Blood continued to trickle from the wound, and I could tell by the breathlessness of his words that the bolt had punctured his lung.
Ged's chuckle was humourless. "You overestimate yourself, Delta."
Blood slipped from the corner of Faelen's mouth. He grinned. "Actually, I think I know myself perfectly well." Just then, electricity crackled in his fist, and I gaped at him. Just how great was his magic reservoir, if he could summon so much magic even when afflicted by silver and Wolfsbane.
My body stiffened as he grasped my shoulder with his other hand, and I may have thought the gesture to be one of comfort if the best of his bodyweight wasn't bearing down on it. "And I think you are under estimating this girl. Her name is Kyra, and she will burn you and your entire court to ash."
On cue, I summoned my flame and allowed the renewed vigour to pump through my blood. Faelen may be confident, but there was no denying he was weakened. I had to protect him. I had to ensure we both got out of this, alive.
The Eastern Alpha's chuckle sent a chill through me. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that." He gave me one last leer before stepping aside. In an instant, all that renewed vigour dissipated in my blood as deep, dark blue eyes bore into mine.
Azriel. Azriel was here. And he was smiling.
My heart pounded. No, this couldn't be real, and yet it was, standing right before me. Suddenly, I wasn't in the room anymore. I wasn't even in the Northern Court. It was just me and him, alone behind cobble walls, with nothing but iron bars separating us. Someone must have stuffed cotton balls down my throat, for now it was hard to breathe. My ears rang. My breathing quickened, though it was difficult to draw in air. Since when had the atmosphere become so thick?
"Kyra," came Faelen's voice, stained with worry. I knew he was there -- I could sense him -- but my eyes were fixed on Azriel. On Azriel. Oh, God. "Kyra, that's not actually him. It's a shifter pretending to be him. What you're seeing isn't real."
I heard his words, registered them, and yet I couldn't bring myself to believe them. Logically, everything pointed to Faelen being correct. How hadn't I sensed him among the Eastern Wolves? Why wasn't he manipulating the bond to control me now? Why couldn't I even feel the bond?
I stared into that cruel smile, as though it would give me answers, but it gave me nothing. All I felt was panic; the primal kind that shuts off any logical thinking and plunges you in a lake of ice.
I staggered back another step. The Eastern Alpha's smirk flashed in my vision, and I felt an arm on me before I violently pushed it off. Azriel remained still -- staying nothing, doing nothing; just waiting.
"Kyra!" A voice shattered through my world of silence, and for a moment, I broke my gaze with the man before me. Luna Darla stood by the set of double doors, and with a greedy fervour, I realised what it was: a promise of safety. An escape. A path away from this despair, away from him. "Get over here, Kyra!"
I took a step towards her. As I did, I took in Faelen's crumpled form, his face pale and his eyes wide as he watched me. I then looked to Azriel, who remained stock-still by Ged's side. A shifter, Faelen had called him; a fake.
But right now, he seemed anything but fake. In fact, he'd never seemed more real.
I took another step, and that look of fear in Faelen's eyes shifted to one of desperation. His eyes pleaded with mine, begging me to stay, to defend him, and yet I could not ignore that intense blue gaze. Faelen's shirt was soaked with blood, and his entire body was shaking with exhaustion.
If I stayed, Azriel would drag me back to that underground hell. If I left, Faelen would die.
Another beat of silence, and my mind was made. I turned and ran.
I ran until my legs ached, until my lungs could no longer draw in air. I ran for what felt like miles -- across battle fields and oceans, through thick and thin and everything in-between. The booming chuckles behind me charged my step; the piercing blue stare drove me forward; and the guilt of abandoning of my comrade urged me to escape.
I finally made it to the door. When I did, I turned, and my stomach sank.
Faelen was bent to one knee, one hand covering the wound on his chest whilst the other clutched the ground. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as though it were difficult to breath, as the pool of blood beneath him crusted at the edges.
And his eyes. I would never forget the look in his eyes.
They were rife with betrayal and hurt, as though I'd been the one who'd shot that bolt through his chest. As though I'd just ripped his heart out with my bare hands.
But as the door closed before me, I glimpsed one final emotion, one that made my body go cold. Fear. For the first time in what was probably centuries, Faelen feared for his life.
And as the doors shut in my face, I realized two things. One, you should never, under any circumstances, abandon your comrade in battle.
My second realization stung more than the first, and I dropped to the floor. Now, Faelen was trapped in there, alone.
And he was probably going to die.