Death and suicide ahead. . .you'll see. I apologize in advance!<3
Weeks went by, and the hot summer breezes turned into cold winter nights. The three mates never did anything more than simple exchanges that they could not subdue, for Achilles' body had grown weaker with time. He took on the role as a leader in the Warrior Pack, but served only as a power figure with his paling body and slimmed figure. Eating became harder than normal, and it seemed like a piece of him was missing. Without his memories, Achilles could bit understand what was wrong with him or how to fix it.
Over time the twins and Zayne described the years without him, the death of one of the best leaders they had ever had and Zayne's imprisonment for most if the time. Even after he met Eros and was taught what mates were, he never really felt like the hole in his heart was complete. Instead, it felt as though that hole was slowly but surely burning the strings attaching it, forcing him to be reminded by Azazel, the man in his dream.
"You'll be fine, Achilles. Just get some rest," Zayne whispered soothingly, looking down at his helpless mate. Monica had been nearly nonexistent since they had gotten to the pack, and when he tried to confront her about her absence. Zayne and Eros had repeated the same sentence for a long time after Achilles started growing sicker. Yet never once did he mention the man, in fear that he had just imagined a man so beautiful and heroic.
"Okay. Can you tell me a story, please?" Achilles would ask when the pain was exceptionally high. The stories told by Zayne were usually memories he and Achilles shared together, the choices they had made on certain occasions and risks they had made. Sometimes, when Eros wasn't busy being one if the newest warriors, he too would tell a story if where he came from and why he left. It was the same story every time, but Achilles enjoyed it nonetheless.
"I came from one of the richest, strongest, and beautifulest packs," He would always start, sitting on the bed next to Achilles or on the floor next to the bed and allow the sick werewolf to brush through his hair with shaky hands. "We were everything but cruel. We helped every rogue that entered our grounds, no matter how docile they were. Then one day, it was all gone, and I found myself a rogue, just like the ones I had given money and food to so many times before."
The man would never more in depth than that, but having nothing to do, Achilles let his mind run wild with possibilities that could have been in the story. No matter how many ideas Achilles guessed of, Eros never confirmed nor denied any of them. Until one day, on a particularly cold night, more so than usual.
"Looks like there's no way we can go out in this," Zayne sighed, rubbing his eyes as he walked into the kitchen, feet thundering on the hard wooden floor.
"Don't worry baby, he's gonna be okay. Come eat dinner with me while Achilles sleeps," Eros smiled sadly at just the mention of his poor mate, who he had waited to meet after his original one died in the pack's demolition.
The familiar nodded tiredly, energy drained after so much time without shifting into his original form. Zayne had even begun forgetting the look of his blades, since Achilles no longer needed him as a servant rather than a mate.
Upstairs, Achilles had made his way shakily to his small wooden desk, which Eros had built for him after a rather boring afternoon on patrol. He took the #2 pencil in his thin fingers and opened Zayne's old diary to a free page. He felt bad going in his mate's personal book, but he felt the need to do it. His body was extra frail than usual, which he hadn't told Eros or Zayne yet.
To my dearest mates, friends, and family, He began, wincing at how hard writing had become after being as sick as he was. I am writing this in regards to those who I will be leaving behind, who love and care for me as much as I do them. I am doing so because I can feel my body growing weaker day by day. My bones feel like they are hollowing out and my muscles can barely bend without drawing pain. It has come to my attention that I may not have much more time here on this earth, and so I have decided to write this note as one last goodbye to those I love.
Downstairs, three loud bangs ricocheted through the apartment-like home. Eros stood up to greet the person standing at the door, wondering who would be crazy enough to go out in such cold weather, where hail or snow is just as possible as freezing to death. He opened the door, revealing a seemingly tense Monica.
"Kitchen, now!" The elderly woman whisper-shouted, sounding much more different from her usual motherly sounding tone.
Eros gave her a questioning look as she pushed past him to their small dining room in the kitchen, following behind her after closing the door.
I know those who read this, or those who care, will be heartbroken by my passing, but I would like to relay one piece of information: I am in pain. Pain so unbearable, even the strongest men wouldn't want to carry it.
"Monica, what's wrong? I haven't seen you in a while!" Zayne smiled, standing up to greet the strong woman.
Monica looked at Zayne, then Eros, and back. Her face was etched with worry and once happy expression matched the angry cold of the outside wheather.
"I have news on Achilles' illness," The witch whispered, causing the mates' eyes to go wide and shock spread through their bodies.
"Well, what is it?" Zayne asked hurriedly, eager to hear the news Monica was going to share with them.
No, I am not being heroic or doing anyone a favor by bearing this pain upon my sickly shoulders, but I would like to call attention to the some things that I have remembered over the little time I have been here in this realm.
"I know what's wrong with Achilles and why the two of you are his mates!" Monica exclaimed, turning to the large brown book bag that was slung on her shoulder.
She took out a book, blowing a bit of dust off of it, and turning the pages to one of many bookmarks in the book. As she grazed the words on the pages, a single sentence made her eyes light up with excitement.
"Here! Page 164 in Werewolves Unlocked," She said, pointing to words in a paragraph that said;
"A werewolf, no matter age, race, ethnicity, or gender, will always have a chance at mates. As such, if one us unfairly killed or lost in any way, shape, or form by The Fates, the moon goddess makes up for the heart break by allowing the wolf another."
The first is that I have been keeping a secret from the ones closest to me. Though I do not remember them or anyone from before I awoke here on this earth, but there is a man I cannot get out of my mind. His scent lingers in my memory and voice sends shivers down my spine. I am sorry to my mates, who will most likely be reading this, but his beauty is unmatched, even by those I was destined by. I do not know for sure his name, or the origin behind it, but one thing is certain; Azazel. Though I would like to know who he is and what it means while I am alive, i fear there is not much time left for me.
"Then there's this," She spoke, turning to another bookmark and briefly glancing at the two listening men. She pointed to a paragraph at the very end of a new chapter, titled "The Souls and Their Mysteries."
"Soulmates are eternal. Second Mates are legendary. Despite this, the very creators of werewolves themselves have spoken of the faults in the stars, more specifically where the souls interline and go wrong. To put it bluntly, any soul that has a Second Mate of any form, while begin feeling the repercussions, if they have not already. This will be even more described in the next chapter, "Rejection at Its Finest."
Another problem I must address, especially as my hand grows weaker and numb with every word, is that I have lost my wolf. This is how I know my time is coming. Though I do not know the reason behind my illness, I am quite aware of my body's loss in this battle. This may pain you to know, but after so long with pain and suffering, I have started to wish that I too went with him. Sometimes I start to ask myself if he ever had a name. I never conversed with him directly, but he always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking before I even thought it. This alone made our bond strong and healthy.
Monica turned the page once again and read out another set of words from the chapter about rejection.
"Rejection is not a well known idea, purely because the act of doing so requires one to have the full ability to maintain a stable mindset. Doing so will in turn cost your mate their life but ultimately save yours, if you're lucky. However, if a mate is determined worthy of the moon goddess' few second chances, the mate of the rejector will not die immediately. This does not mean death is escapable. Rejection is one of the painfullest things to feel by a creature of any sort, for it attacks the physical, emotional, and mental structure of the being. A mate will inevitably die a very painful, very slow death, once rejected by the one The Fates had chosen for them."
There is one more thing I would like to say. I have been lying to all of you, even in this letter. I have, in fact, recovered some memories from my past. I remember some small conversation and people, but there is one conversation I have come to be very fond of. "When the time comes that the wind freezes water, a broken heart shall usher forth the dawn of men." I know not what the quote means by ushering forth the dawn of men, but I have come to understand that the broken heart must be me. Maybe when I'm gone my mates will understand what it means and solve one of the many mysteries of my life.
"Then there is this here, in the same chapter," Monica says, hurriedly turning the page and nearly tearing the delicate page.
"The heart of the rejected begins changing, freezing from the inside, out and eventually killing its carrier. This is due to the cold of the rejection words, bitterness from the mate of the rejected, and loss of their destined beloved. There is ultimately no preventing a heart freezing over, only a temporary fix to the problem; Second Mates."
And so, after all this I am utterly tired. Goodbye to my family, friends, and most importantly my mates. Please know that I love you with all my heart, even if it does ache more day by day. Remember that I love you, and am watching down from the clouds above. Zayne, I will forever remember your beautiful smiles and warm hugs. You made every day of my poor excuse if a life amazing, and I thank you for that. As for Eros, I apologize that I was not able to complete the mating ritual eith you, for we have yet to be together for more than a month. I can, however, tell you that I love every of your body, mind, and soul. You are the person I wish I could have been, and I know one day you will be a strong leader if the pack, as I failed to be. Goodbye, my loves. I'll see you from the other side.
Achilles signed his name, looking down at the couoke pages of writing he had made. He said what he had to say, and that was that. Tesrs welled up in his eyes as he realized what was happening. His body was no longer shivering more than shaking, and it felt as though his heart had finally given out.
With the last of his strength, Achilles stood up and made his way to the bed. He took three steps and fell, straight to the floor in a pool of pain and suffering.
Are you still there? Achilles asked in his mind, knowing no one would answer. He was alone, no matter how many mates or friends he had. He was going to die, and there was nothing anyone in the world could do to prevent that, not even the most skilled at magic. Slowly, Achilles closed his eyes as he layed on the floor. So many things he could have said to the ones he loved. So many memories he had yet to remember. So much life left to be lived. Achilles' body turned as cold as the snow that had begun falling around the Warrior Pack. Families around the pack were either sleeping happily in their homes or laughing together, unaware that another great leader was dying alone on the floor to his rather small room.
Right underneath Achilles' room, the three were still talking about the werewolve's sickness, when suddenly Eros and Zayne's eyes glazed over red. A whimper escaped Achilles at the same time as Eros howled in dismay and Zayne screamed in agony. Monica covered her ears, eyes wide.
"Shit, Achilles!" She shouted, running upstairs and leaving the two mates writhing in pain. As soon as she saw the male leader on the floor of his dark room, the witch fell to her rickety knees and shook his body in desperate attempts to awaken the man she had somehow come to know as her son.
"Achilles, no! Not now, please. Five more minutes," The woman cried, begging and praying to the gods above, if any existed, to save the poor man who had gone through hell and back.
"He just found his mates, the ones that actually love him! He just remembered what it was like to be happy again, and you want to take that away from him? WHY?" Tge woman cried, cursing The Fates and their unfairness to the boy she had loved and cared for, for such a short time.
Zayne and Eros stumbled into the room, finally able to gain enough strength to make their way up the stairs they had carved their names into alongside Achilles and into the room they had remade themselves, together. The three were thinking the same thing, all begging for a life to return that was long gone.
After hours of weeping together in the room, holding the cold man in their hands, Zayne and Eros closed their eyes. Monica had long since left, claiming she had no purpose in the pack now that Achilles was gone, and it was the truth. As much as she wished to comfort the mates of her unbiological son, she had no reason to bud into their pain.
"Please," Zayne whispered into the silent room, his mate's head on his shoulder as he held the other in his arms. Cold and deathly pale, Achilles was gone, and the simple recognition that his Master had died was the only thing the familiar needed to go over the edge.
Zayne began screaming, and his lover in his arms just layed there, weeping quietly as night turned to day and people walked happily around the Warrior Pack. Not one realized what was happening in the room of one of the greatest warriors ever lived, nor did they realize what the two mates Achilles had left behind were about to do.
Slowly, Eros unwrapped himself from his lover's arms, ignoring Zayne's bloodcurling screams as he opened the wardrobe and began fumbling through the clothes and shoes of his dead mate until he found the two things he needed.
Two very sharp iron daggers layed at the bottom of the wardrobe full of Achilles' clothes. Eros wrapped his hands around both the weapons, stepping closer to his single live mate.
"Together or alone," He told his mate, knowing the familiar could hear him even after his wails of despair and pain. Zayne looked up into his mate's beautiful eyes, his own glazed over as he nodded.
"On the count of three," Zayne whispered, standing up right in front of Eros, receiving a nod from the taller man.
"One," Eros began, lifting the blade up to his chest as Zayne did the same.
"Two," Zayne whispered, his voice cracking as tears began flowing off both their faces.
"Three," They said together, lifting the blades an inch from their chests and plunging then deep inside their sad hearts.
"I love you," Eros whispered into Zayne's ear as they fell to the ground together next to their mate, never reading the message he had written just minutes before he died. They never read their mate's confessions, and never saw the small scribble of words right after the pages and paragraphs of words meaning goodbye.
Live for me, The werewolf had added, intending it for everyone he left had behind. Unfortunately, he had not realized the two would not be able to read his words or see the warnings. Instead, the last thing they would see were each other as the sun began rising, creating a warm glow in contrast to the house of pain their home had become. It seemed the moon goddess herself was apologising for the night of snow, and was blessing the land with her love in the form of dawn and men.
I am sorry for this dreadful ending. I can't lie to y'all, I cried after writing this. Unfortunately, this is the end to a 2 year long story about Achilles' life. I apologize for how long it was, and how choppy my writing throughout this book has been, but I want to thank everyone who has stuck through it from the very beginning, no matter how crap writing was or how many plot holes are in it. I love you, all of you. Even if you are mad at me for this ending. . .<3 <3 <3 <3 <3
*also, PSA: I do not condone ANY form of self harm or suicide. This was simply for plot purposes and for an emotional ending*