"They're showing off," a voice sounded then, piercing through the murky fog she was trapped in. "Proving there's a gap in our defences which they can slip through. It's a tactic to make us nervous... Rogues are always so very dramatic about these kinds of things, aren't then, Blu?"
"Would you all stop just mooching about?" Rylan demanded then, voice high, and undoubtedly lined with stress. Lyra felt something inside her twist at the thought that he was stressed because of her. Always her fault. Everything was always just that. "My mate is dying!"
"No, she's not." A hand brushed against her jawline, unmoving despite the low growl which rang out across the room. "She won't die from a measly thing like venom... will you, Lyra?"
Her eyes snapped open then, meeting the red ones which bore into her own with a frightening intensity. Pale, ash blonde hair fell in messy curtains around his face, a smile curving at his lips as the other alpha peered down at her with those blood red eyes of his.
"Purple," he whispered, thumb brushing against the skin beneath her eyes. "I knew it..."
"Thorn?" Rylan looked over at him then, coming to hover at her bedside. "What do you mean?" he asked, staring down at her, relief flooding his expression as he saw she was conscious. "Lyra," he murmured. "You're awake... where does it hurt? Can you still feel your leg? Hunter will be back soon enough, so he can treat you then. You just need to stay calm until then – keep your heartrate as slow as possible."
"What?" she croaked, utterly confused as to everything which had just gone on. Everything was happening too quickly. First there had been The Weaver, then a poisonous snake, and now a strange purple spectre who had taken to haunting her unconscious moments. They had all left her with many more questions than answers, and Lyra felt as though she were drowning in them. It was too much. She was out of her depth, lost in a sea of confusion, and she felt as though she could swim in it no longer. She wanted out. She wanted normalcy – whatever that strange concept was.
"You're going to be alright, you hear me?" Rylan said, grabbing her hand then, squeezing it gently as if to give her comfort. Proof that she wasn't alone in the confusing mess which had become her life. Lyra stared at him then, confusion making her brow wrinkle as she listened to her mate whisper sweet words of reassurance.
"Why?" she asked then, blindly accepting the glass of water pressed into her hands then, and she took a sip, allowing her dry throat a much needed rest. Lyra wasn't exactly certain what made her mouth blurt the words out. It was like the filter between her mouth and her brain had been destroyed. "Why does it matter to you if I die...?" Her question made a silence fall over the room, and her words felt as though they echoed around the place. "The Weaver would probably just give you a new red string... and they'd probably be someone better suited to you..."
"Oh, my precious, insecure little herald," a voice reminiscent of the purple spectre whispered in her head, and Lyra felt tears bite at the corners of her eyes. She didn't understand why any of this was happening to her. All she had wanted was to escape Omega Taurus and fade into the background of society. Someone like her... she couldn't be Rylan's mate. Lyra knew she was anything but the spitting image of someone meant to be a Queen amongst werewolves.
"Don't say that," Rylan whispered, and Lyra could only frown at the tears she could see in his pale blue eyes. More proof she was a terrible match. Maybe that was why The Weaver had visited her... because he'd made a mistake. He had said that not even the gods were perfect. "You're my mate – the one the red string binds me to – and I know there's a reason for it."
Lyra cast her gaze away, shame welling up inside her at what she had said. It was just her insecurities talking, and Omega Taurus had plenty of time to instil many of those into her. "So tell me that reason then, tell me..." she whispered, wanting to hear reasons to stay by his side, wanting to hear reasons to drown herself in the safety he radiated for her and her alone. She couldn't figure them out alone. Not when every bone in her body whispered that she wasn't worthy of him. No matter how she longed to have a chance. There were scars all over her, though not ones visible to the naked eye. Rylan didn't have those. His hands weren't stained with blood. "Why would you want someone like me by your side?" She couldn't belong there, beside someone so... innocent.
"Someone like you?" he echoed, brow crinkled as he stared at her with those pale eyes of his which always seemed to cut through her so. She hated it. Hated how one look from him made her feel naked. Exposed. Vulnerable. "Lyra you're—"
"I'm broken!" she screamed, hands fisting in her curly red locks as a sob escaped her. "They shattered me into pieces and took and took parts of me away. Piece by piece. I don't know how to be normal no matter how much I..." Lyra winced, the words escaping her. "I don't even know how to be a perfect mate! And... and... and that's what you need. I shouldn't be here... You should have just thrown me in a cell and washed your hands of me! It would have been better that way..." There would have been no worries about Omega Taurus finding her, nor any worries of them hurting innocent others in a bid to get to her. It would have been so much better. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I can't even protect myself... I'm just a burden, nothing more." Something clawed at her heart then, and it took Lyra a few minutes to realise it was the bond stirring, yowling in pain as the scars within her bled once more. "Just throw me away while you still can... You barely know anything about me or—"
"You have a terrible sweet tooth," Rylan said then, fingers weaving between her own as he played with her hand in his gentle grasp. "Your preference for toppings on pancakes is chocolate chips, followed by syrup. You are fairly uncomfortable when it comes to touch, though you give me the most leeway with this." He smiled then, a thing so warm and understanding. "Your nose twitches rather adorably whenever you're confused or hesitant about something." Rylan shrugged. "I might not know everything about you, dearest mate, but I've seen enough. You don't have to be perfect for me. I know I'm certainly not. In fact, all I'd ask of you is to continue giving me this chance to get to know you better, please."
Her other hand dropped back to the mattress without another sound, and Lyra could only blink as all her anger and misery – the driving forces behind her outburst – shrivelled up and faded away like a spark of fire which had been snuffed. Embarrassment came for her then, and she buried her face in her knees. Because she wasn't supposed to show weakness. Because she wasn't supposed to be driven by her emotions. Because she was meant to be free of Omega Taurus.
"You're not broken, Lyra," he continued, fingers still interlocked with her own. "You're still moving forwards... but right now, I think, maybe, you're a little lost?"
Blinking, she looked up at him, gaze almost instantly flickering over to their joined hands. His eyes were still so piercing, as though they cut straight to the heart of the matter. How could he be so perceptive? Why couldn't she be more like that? Her teeth ground together, and she fought to keep curses from falling from her lips. She felt weak. Lyra didn't like that feeling, and her mate... He made her feel small. Like something which needed to be protected.
"I'm..." not lost, she wanted to say, but truthfully, she didn't quite know the answer she needed to give. She was lost in a sea of questions without answers, trapped in a place she was unfamiliar with – and yet the best hope of keeping her free in the ways which really mattered. "I'm weak," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks, thick and hot.
Rylan smiled. "Everyone starts out weak," he said, tilting his head. "What determines a person's strength is what they decide to do from there."
Something inside her curled up, part of her having been hoping for him to say she wasn't weak. But she had admitted it herself. She was weak in the ways it mattered most – to herself, in any case. Lyra supposed that was all which really mattered. Her eyes narrowed then, and she pulled upon her small well of determination. Her wish to keep the semblance of freedom she had found there. "I want to become stronger." Otherwise Omega Taurus would take everything away. Lyra didn't want to be left with nothing.
The soft smile on Rylan's face transformed into a grin. "That's the spirit," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I promise you this, Lyra, I will help that wish of yours come true... but in the meantime, please trust in me to protect you. Just until you feel strong enough to do so yourself. That's all I ask for in return."
Glaring at her feet, Lyra ground her teeth together, because she had admitted to her weakness... and now she had to accept what came with that admission. "Until I become strong enough," she mumbled, jaw set. "Alright."
"Thank you," he said softly. "Now, please calm down... Hunter will be back soon, and he advised me to ensure you remain calm... and that you don't go into shock. Blaine is currently out trying to find the snake which bit you," he continued, speaking in rapid fire, leaving Lyra struggling to keep up. "There aren't any kind native to Blagmoor, so it shouldn't be too hard to locate if he's sharp about it. In the meantime—"
"I told you before," Thorn said, reminding them both of their little audience. "She cannot die. Not from poison nor venom. He will not allow that."
Rylan turned to his fellow alpha. Lyra's eyes snapped onto the red ones. He knew something. An answer to one of her many questions? "What do you mean?" he asked, Lyra being just a second too slow to voice that very same question.
Thorn clicked his tongue. "I forget the rest of you don't know as much... Mother only told me a bit of the story, but I know enough to recognise his claim in someone," he explained, arms folded, leaning back against the nearest wall.
"Claim?" Rylan's voice was almost a snarl, teeth bared.
It was the most out of sorts Lyra had seen her mate act since her arrival there – the only expression he had ever displayed which came close to aggression. Lyra didn't know whether she liked it or not – he was terribly respectful, and yet there was a part of him which wanted her all to himself. Dimly, she wondered if there was a part of her which would demand Rylan all for herself. Well, if he didn't decide she wasn't worth the hassle.
The red-eyed alpha only sighed, rolling those blood red eyes of his. "Calm down, you possessive imbecile," he grumbled. "I know how much you really enjoy the thought of having your precious mate all to yourself, and the thought of having your wicked way with her, but sadly there's someone else who's staked their claim on her very being itself."
"Who?" her mate demanded.
"You can't go up against a god, Rylan," Thorn said matter-of-factly. "That's about as much as I'll say on this matter... otherwise I might attract some... unwelcome attention."
"There are those amongst my kind who will do anything to prevent his revival." The Weaver's words rang out in her brain then, the warning loud and clear, and Lyra swallowed heavily. There apparently was a god who had staked a claim on her. She didn't quite know how to feel about that. She was nobody special. She was just little lost Lyra all alone in the big bad world. Her hands curled into fists, and Lyra remembered her silent vow to herself – to become stronger.
Something was coming. She could taste it in the air, a tingle of anticipation on her tongue, like the night before an assassination. There was a storm coming, and Lyra could already tell she would be in the eye of it all. Because she was the target – the prey – and there were still so many questions about herself and her past that she had yet to answer.