48. The Second Battle pt. 1
48
THE SECOND BATTLE PT. 1
" S tay still."
Luella’s eyes shifted, and she forced herself to remain unmoving. She wanted to scoff.
Oh, yes. Like she was in danger of moving when three large wolves were prowling closer to them…
The trio of wolves stalked closer, tall fronds of grass rustling as they came upon the base of the knoll. Her heart stuttered. They were fast. Vicious. All it would take was a mere moment, and they would be upon where she and Az stood.
Was Tharen nearby? Was he… watching?
Why did that thought not make her sick to her stomach? Luella felt compelled to scan the treeline in the distance, searching for a large frame, inky black tattoos, and a shock of white braids.
Nothing. She saw nothing.
Az slowly gripped her hand, using the sleeve of their cloaks to hide the motion.
"When I say go, you run," he mumbled.
Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. The sky was mottled with a haze of gray vapor. Foreboding, like the predators before them.
"Run where?" Luella whispered.
One of the wolves let out a low growl at the sound of her voice, and she forced her limbs to still. Suddenly, Az’s command did not seem all that bizarre. Her body wanted to flee, an atavistic response in the face of these predators.
Every time she blinked, she heard the crunch of bone and splatter of blood against the marble floors of the throne room—the memory of what these beasts were capable of.
But she reminded herself that was at the behest of their master. And Luella did not spot the mage. Would Tharen even be allowed to order his wolves to attack her? She was still under the protection of the King.
Az lowered his head, horns jutting out as he stared the trio of wolves down with an unflinching gaze. "The village."
"But—"
"No," Az hissed. "Trust me. Remember. Do as I say."
The village loomed behind, death standing on either side of them. She didn’t dare look behind her at the ruins, but she could feel the claws of dark death that had seeped into the once quaint village. The scent of decaying bodies offered some sense of relief. Perhaps they were all dead and gone. But the bodies… Would she see them?
Chills cascaded down her arms.
The wolves broke apart, forming an almost triangular formation before them.
The leader, the largest of the three beasts, placed a paw on the base of the hill, head lowering and jutting out as he peered up at them with gleaming eyes.
The other two shifted, not relenting in their slow pace.
Trapping them.
The wolves were trapping them.
Her palm grew clammy in Az’s grip, and just as the leader of the pack lowered, body pressed tightly to the ground as his haunches raised, ears flattened to his head, Az broke his steady stillness.
"Run!" he bellowed.
Luella’s feet tripped over the air as she followed his command, body spinning and ankle throbbing fiercely—she ignored it all, focusing solely on the village before her.
Az pressed a hand against her back, the other wrapped around her hand. He didn’t let her go, not once, as they fled down the hill. The wind whipped her hair against her cheeks, and it blew out behind her.
Thick, acrid smoke stung her nostrils, eyes watering. She coughed, free hand pressed to her mouth as they navigated the ruins of the village.
The wolves howled and barked, echoes of glee as they began their hunt.
She knew she shouldn’t, but Luella looked behind her.
The trio stood tall at the top of the knoll, the largest in the center. Their maws were exposed, glistening with dripping saliva.
"Lu, come." Az jerked her by the hand, forcing her into the maze of the village.
The ground was a wasteland, filled with brittle fragments of bone and chunks of rotted flesh, fallen structures all around, and the sides of houses, cottages, and tradeposts crumbled to nothing but ash. The village center—a small square with a well and a few lampposts with empty candles—was empty.
Rock crunched under their boots as they ran, weaving in and out of buildings to shake off their hunters. Her breath was labored as Az dragged her along. Luella limped, gate unsteady, a hand pressed to a rough stone wall for support as he tugged her inside a small building.
Weapons hung along the wooden walls, some half-finished and others beautiful and pristine. A smithy.
A large furnace lay in the center of the room, the inside filled with cold, unused coal. Exposed beams were above, some destroyed by the attacks and fallen haphazardly to the ground, creating a labyrinth. The ceiling was mostly intact, but a small hole was near the back. Chunks of wood and stone had collapsed on the ground underneath.
It was empty of all life, no bustling fae toiling over the furnace or hammering against iron.
Tears pricked her eyes. Evidence of lives once lived.
Near the caved-in part of the roof, the wooden beams made a small hideaway, and that was where Az dragged her. But not before taking a long sword with a wickedly curved edge from its spot on the wall and a smaller dagger, the blade the size of her palm.
"Get in," the demon ordered, pressing the dagger into her hand.
She gripped the carved hilt. It was crude wood that scratched against her palm. Luella rubbed a finger over the side of the blade. Deadly and sharp. It was enough, even though she would have to get close to her enemies to use it.
Her ankle throbbed as she stood her ground, but she didn’t obey him. Not this time. "What about you?"
There’s no way Az could fit. It was nothing more than a small hole, barely big enough for her, let alone someone his size.
Howls resounded outside, but they sounded far away. They had time.
Drawing in an uneven breath, Luella flexed her hand against his, the other still clutching the dagger with a white-knuckled grip. "I will not leave you to fend for yourself, Az. I think you’ve been alone long enough. We’re together."
At Luella’s words, Az cupped her cheek, bending down to press a rough kiss to her brow. "I have to keep you safe, Lu, for reasons you don’t yet know. You are our salvation."
He pulled back, pressing down on her shoulders and forcing her to her knees. She grimaced as the action aggravated her ankle, but she was far past caring now.
Knelt on the ground, rubble biting into her kneecaps, hair tousled and soot coating her skin, Luella looked up at Az with softly shining, gold eyes. "Come back to me," she implored.
Az’s answering promise was warm and firm as he vowed, "Always."
Hiding. Always hiding.
Her hands pressed to her mouth to stifle the sound of her breathing, to cover the faint whimpers that escaped from her lips with every echoed snarl and growl that reverberated through the ghostly village.
In the absence of life, everything seemed louder. A clink of a pebble under her boot, as she shifted, was a thundering boom.
But—
Maybe that wasn’t a mere pebble.
The ground shook under her, rock and dust falling from the beams overhead and piles of rubble that hid her, growing ashy as they shifted from the force of… Whatever that was.
She pressed a hand over her head to steady herself, the large chunk of the wooden beam notched precariously above her felt unsteady under her fingers.
Was she safe here? She hadn’t given much thought to how, exactly, she would die, but being crushed under a building was not a way she would like to go. Hanging, beheading, a dagger to the throat—all ways Luella had resigned herself to meet her end, but not this.
Another resounding boom rocked throughout the village.
Smoke billowed, wafting throughout the smithy and forcing her eyes to water. Dust particles choked her, lungs seizing as she drew in contaminated air.
She had to go.
Luella couldn’t stay here.
This whole structure seemed as though it would collapse.
And the noises outside. Dare she risk it?
Thundering crashes so loud her ears rang, and a trio of yipping howls and calls.
Something else was under those sounds, nearly drowned out by the loud cadence, but she heard it. It sounded like… metal. The zing of a blade meeting another.
Oh, no.
She pictured Az fighting off Tharen, and her blood ran cold.
Mind made up, Luella crawled from her spot, the dagger hitting the ground as her hands shifted over the rough pieces of rock littering the floor.
Luella stood with shaky legs, mouth downturned as her ankle throbbed in protest. The smithy was silent. Too silent. The call of the wolves had abated, and her ears strained as she waited for the boom of something to unleash once more.
The hole in the ceiling above her let in a scant amount of quickly dimming sunlight, marred by the thick smoke that permeated the air, making everything look hazy. Like a dream.
A thick shadow cast against the ground, its image distorted by the chunks of fallen rock and beams of broken wood. She jerked back, spine hitting a particularly large piece of rubble as she hid herself away from the exposed spot.
Pressing a hand to her mouth, the other that held the dagger shook so hard it nearly fell from her grip.
"No," Luella breathed.
He was here.
And she realized where she had heard that noise from.
Ground shaking from the booming force of what she now knew as the beating of a dragon’s wings, Luella watched the shadow of the creature as it flew right over the smithy she was hidden within. If it weren’t for the hole above, she never would have seen the shadowed outline.
King Vale had come for her.
And he brought the Prima and his pack of wild beasts to do his bidding.
Luella had never stood a chance in her escape.
Fingers pulled at her golden curls, knotting in her hair as she lamented every decision that brought her to this very moment.
Wingbeats in the sky shook the earth, thundering as the dragon soared.
It was so loud, and her attention was so caught up on things above that she forgot to keep in mind the things down below.
As the dragon passed by and the boom of wings receded slightly, her breathing grew harsher. But there was an odd undertone to it. A deeper replica. Labored breaths puffing in time with her own.
Her eyes lowered to the heart of the smithy, her gaze landing on the furnace at the center of the room.
Nothing was there to make such a sound, but Luella had heard it.
She shifted on the rubble, boots creaking as her heel nudged a pile of ashen wood—met by a similar sound. The crunch of rock under feet that were much larger than her own.
Luella jerked her head to the source of the noise. To the far side of the room.
And stumbled back, back, back into the large chunks of stone and wooden beams behind her, ankle twisting in her boot.
A fae male stood, half-hidden in the darkness of the corner.
She couldn’t see his eyes, but his clothes were in tatters, covered in soot and blood and dirt. He was huge. A silver sword glinted in his hands as he shifted, stepping out of the darkness and into the faint light that cascaded through the open hole above.
His face was calm. Too calm for such a situation. Eyes of some strange color took her in—too dark for her to see clearly—and the male’s amber-hued hair was shorn close to his skull. Cheekbones smeared with dirt and old blood, and the hollows of his face prominent. The male’s lip twitched up as he regarded her.
She couldn’t understand it, how he was so unmoving.
He was victim to whatever attack had felled this village—this mysterious Umbra that had brought such destruction.
Luella took a step forward, his head shifting to track her. The action was strangely predatory.
She held her hands before her, grip loosening around the dagger as she tried to placate the stranger in front of her. "It’s okay," she said. "I’m on your side. I won’t hurt you."
The male let out a soft laugh. It was low and throaty. She looked down at her tattered clothes. Matted and wild hair. Features too soft to harm anyone. He was likely amused that she thought herself capable of being a threat.
"I know you won’t," the strange male uttered. Luella startled at the gruff sound of his voice.
It was so quiet in this place. The air thrummed with something ancient, and it was then that Luella started to feel uneasy.
He took a step forward, and she took a step back, heel bumping the largest piece of stone, the beginnings of an upward slant that led straight to the gaping hole in the roof.
Her eyes scoured the room, searching for Az, but he was long gone, left to fight off the pack of wolves—a fruitless endeavor. They were never going to win.
A few more steps, while Luella stayed frozen with fear; he was close now, could easily reach out and grab her if he wished.
Something prickled against her leg. Looking down, she saw snaking vines growing out of cracks in the foundation, curling around her boots and twining up to her calves, further to her knees and past her thighs.
Terra magic.
Slowly, her eyes met the male’s. He was right before her. As the haze of smoke drifted above, letting in a bit more light, she was able to see his eyes for the first time.
Mottled green overtaken by the darkness, like a shadow blocking out the sun.
She had seen eyes like that before. In the gardens of Serpentis, Treye, who had tried to?—
Her thoughts broke off as she shuddered, the male before her smirking in a mocking remembrance of the one from her memory. Treye had seemed so off, but Luella hadn’t been able to put her finger on it. Had been too caught up in everything to look deeper and pay attention to what was happening around her.
If only she had noticed.
Howls picked up outside, but the sound of the dragon’s wings grew fainter.
"We’re on the same side," Luella breathed, gripping the dagger with renewed force. The rough make of the hilt bit into her palm, but she found it grounding.
The blade of his sword dipped, the pointed tip digging into the ground as the male lowered his hand. He seemed utterly without a care, even as she lifted her own blade and held it out with a shaky hand.
His body was muscular, his frame large, but he did not have the look of a warrior; he held the blade awkwardly like it was something foreign.
"And what side is that, Princess Luella?" He cocked a red-hued brow.
"I—" She didn’t know. "How do you know my name?"
He grew pleased at her stumbling falter but did not answer her. There was so much unknown to her, and everyone realized it.
Another shake made her balance off-kilter, and Luella fell back against the rubble, shoulder hitting it harshly. Her feet were still planted on the ground, but her torso was elevated by the slanted stone, the position made him appear even more frightening. And he seemed to love her fear, evident in the way a wicked smirk curled up his lips, the sharp angles of his face growing deeper as he took another small step closer, the toes of his boots brushing against hers.
Before she could do anything— scream, even—a hand shot out, curling against her windpipe. Luella clawed against him, but it was like a vice around her throat. His other hand gripped her wrist, forcing the dagger to clatter against the stone, bouncing off of the piles of rubble and falling somewhere far out of reach.
"How does it feel?" he asked, hand flexing around her throat.
She shook her head, unable to answer.
The male continued, "To be powerless. Helpless." He squeezed. " He wants you unharmed but understands if force has to be used to acquire you. We love a fight."
Luella struggled against him, knees rising up as she planted both her feet against his stomach and kicked with all her might. Her ankle burned with pain, and the male let out a howl, stumbling back, hand still locked around her and tugging against her neck. She gagged as she felt her skin bruise nearly to the point of being crushed.
Her empty hands scrambled on the stone, searching for something. Anything. A chunk of rock, the size of her hand. Her fingertips tingled with adrenaline as she got hold of it.
Then, Luella swung.
The rock hit the side of the male’s face, a harsh blow that caused blood to spray against her neck and chest. None hit her face. She turned her head just in time, eyes squeezed shut as she flinched away.
Hands released her as he staggered back, pressing a palm to his cheek. "Fuck you." He spat drops of blood to the ground. "You little heirus bitch."
She didn’t waste time. Precious moments, the rock had bought her.
Legs kicking up and scrambling against the rubble, she crawled up on her hands and knees, sharp points piercing her skin in her haste. Her thighs burned as she dragged herself up the incline, smoke-filled air making her eyes water as her head broke through the hole.
The wind whipped her face, and she heaved as she pulled herself up, legs working to propel her body forward as she finally came to the rooftop of the smithy.
She had nowhere else to flee to. And as she stood, looking around the wasteland of the village—she now knew to be in Terra based upon the fae male’s magic—Luella only felt dread.
What must have been a hundred bodies crawled throughout the depths of the village. Wielding swords or magic teeming at their fingertips. Where had they all come from? Had they been there this whole time, waiting for someone to stumble into their village, only to attack…
Hair tickled her cheeks as she tipped her head back.
There, in the sky, a pure onyx dragon. Like the night itself.
Luella’s cloak whipped around her as she stood tall on the top of the building, weaponless and hopeless.
A groan from behind her, and she turned her head with resignation. The male pulled himself up, hopping from a crouch to a stand as he prowled before her.
"We love a chase," he taunted. "But know when to concede. It grows tiring, having to chase you all over."
She stumbled back a step, the edge of the building looming to her side. It wasn’t that far of a drop. Luella could do it if she had to, at the expense of a few broken bones, most likely. But it wouldn’t kill her.
Just as he lifted the sword, poised to strike this time, Luella saw a flash of white below. A wolf. Just one.
Had Az succeeded in killing the rest?
The snarling maw and gnashing teeth of the wolf froze her to her spot, shoulders curled up and whole body quivering.
She didn’t want to die.
The male charged, and in a fit of desperation, Luella ducked.
Rolling on the ground, her ribs and shoulders bit into the harshness of fallen glass and chunks of debris. A few tiny pieces cut into her cheeks and palms, but she barely noticed, not as she scooted further away, the male teetering on the edge of the building. Right where she had just been.
As quick as a blink, he was gone. Falling over and down, right to the ground where the awaiting maw of the white wolf tore into him with a vicious snarl. He screamed, and it was such a barbarous sound that her ears rang.
Utterly brutal, the noises of flesh and bone being torn to shreds from a breathing victim, laced with the sounds of his screams of agony.
Luella knew she shouldn’t look, but she did anyway.
Crawling to the side of the building, her hands curled around the ledge as she looked down. Luella grew sick at the sight; it was far worse than the noises. Ribbons of flesh decorated the ground, and the white coat of the wolf grew gore-soaked as he feasted. Intestines trailed out of the male’s stomach, and he lifted a pale, weak hand toward her. Even as he was so distraught and taken by overwhelming pain, he grinned. A small, fleeting thing, but there nonetheless. The hand dropped, and the shadows within his eyes grew dim and dull with death.
It was over.
She swallowed, other sounds coming back to her in waves, more than just the noise of a still-feasting beast.
Luella’s breaths were ragged. "I killed him." Her words, meek. " I killed him ."
A spiral of self-hatred and all-consuming anguish threatened to drown her. And it would have, if not for the faintest cawing of a bird that made her head whip up to the source.
Her eyes blazed with hatred and sorrow.
Perched upon the ledge of the building, wings fluttering in the harsh wind—the smoke made his pure black coat appear a deep blue, shades of grey mixing with pitch.
Her hands scrambled against the ground, and she picked up a small pebble. Before she could think it through, she hurled it at the raven.
"I hate you!" Luella screamed. "I hate you," she sobbed. "Look at what you’ve made me do. Look at what you’ve turned me into." Every word she spat was a volley of righteous misery.
She mourned who she used to be. No blood on her hands.
Now, her palms were forever stained with it.
The raven hopped along the ledge, head cocked as those bright blue eyes stayed trained on her.
She knew it was him . Knew it without a shadow of a doubt.
The watcher, come to watch her as she broke down.
Her fingers splayed out on the rocks below her as she sat crumpled on the roof. The wolf was still feasting with ugly, wet sounds. As she looked down, she saw maroon stained against the backs of her hands, but Luella blinked, and it was gone.
Her teeth clacked against each other as she shook.
"I’m a k-killer. A…" Luella sobbed. "A monster."
Her head hung low, frizzed, golden hair blocking out her view as she focused on her hands, turning them to trace over her palms, seeing red where she knew there was not any. It was all in her head. But never would she be able to rid herself of the life she had taken.
A gloved finger joined hers, brushing over the lines etched into her palm. "You’re not a monster."
She couldn’t force her head to move, to look up. But she didn’t have to.
Graves notched his thumb under her chin and lifted her face up to his.
He knelt on one knee, brows drawn low over his eyes of lapis lazuli. He searched her face, and her eyes trailed to the side, unbidden, called to the sound of a slowing feast.
"No, no. Don’t do that, sweetheart," Graves ordered, tone imbued with a rare softness.
Tears welled in Luella’s eyes as she uttered, "I killed him."
She couldn’t think past the litany of remorse swirling within her. Even though it was self-defense. Even though he would’ve killed her—or worse.
Like they weren’t her own, her hands rested against Graves’s chest, curling into the fabric of his dark cloak. She felt so small. So weak.
Luella watched him as he watched her.
Graves shifted, and his hand flexed against her cheek. He looked conflicted but seemed to settle on something, that confliction turning to a weighted conviction within mere moments.
Warm lips pressed fiercely against hers.
Luella started, broken out of her shocked stupor by the feel of Graves’s lips.
It was chaste, his lips slightly chapped, but somehow, everything she didn’t even know she needed.
As quick as the kiss had begun, it ended. The raven shifter pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.
"Okay?" Graves breathed against her skin.
She shook her head, murmuring a soft, "Why?"
"Physical touch can be a distraction," Graves said. "Take what you need from me."
Her hands smoothed over his chest, and suddenly, she didn’t feel so lost.
Graves seemed to sense this, and he helped her stand, jaw clenching when she winced as her ankle throbbed.
"What happened?"
"I twisted it," she supplied. Luella didn’t mention that it was while fleeing—the fact an undeniable truth hanging heavily between them.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Gloved hands skimmed over her cheeks, down to her chest.
Luella quietly shook her head.
"Did he bite you?"
She pulled back, incredulity breaking through the shock. "B-bite me?" Her voice shook.
He rolled up her sleeves, the fabric sliding over to elbows as he checked her for any wounds— bite marks, her mind corrected.
Graves gripped her chin with gloved fingers, turning her head to inspect her. He eyed the blood on her chest. "Is this blood yours?"
"His…" Luella weakly replied.
She had another male’s blood on her, staining her. A shiver coursed through her, and Graves’s hands grew gentler on her body as he finished checking her, brushing a finger over the tiny pieces of rock and debris stuck in her cheek; she winced as he dislodged it, soothing the abrasions with a whisper of air puffed through lips she knew to be as warm and inviting as a cup of tea on a cold day.
He tore a strip from the bottom of his cloak, bringing it to his face and uttering a soft, "Sorry."
Graves spat on the strip, wetting it with his saliva, before dragging it roughly over the blood on her neck and chest, cleaning it from her skin.
She grimaced. Not from his spit but from the rough drag of the fabric turning her pale skin red and mottled from the force of his furious cleaning. Almost like he couldn’t stand the fae male’s blood to stain her, just as she couldn’t. Like he hated the taint it left on her—the blight on her innocence.
As he pulled the strip of fabric away and dropped it to the ground, kicking rocks over it with his boot, Luella thought, or something darker, something worse.
He treated the blood like a disease.
She remembered the male’s shadowed eyes, so similar to Treye’s.
What if…
What if the blood was diseased?
The fae male had seemed so ordinary. Not a fighter. His body was not hewn with strength from battle training but from wielding sacks of grain and sowing fields. A simple fae. A brother, a son. Someone’s lover.
Graves quickly kissed the crown of her hair, uncaring of the tangles and the sweat making her golden curls stick to her temples. Pulling the cowl back over his lower face, his words were muffled as he said, "We must go now."
The raven shifter looked out at the mass below them, and she followed his gaze, only to find Tharen swinging his twin swords with glee, cutting a body right in half. The dismembered figure slumped, blood soaking the ground as the upper half fell in a sickly, wet thump, so grotesque and loud it stood out above the cacophony of battle. And as the mage turned and barked something, the crowd shifted, and she saw who he was speaking to.
Az grinned ferally as he swept his stolen sword against an attacker’s thigh in a low arc. The male shouted and fell to the ground, and Tharen charged, jabbing a perfectly crafted sword right into his heart.
Together, they were magnificent. Fierce and powerful. Az’s brute strength and savagery combined with Tharen’s skill—the mage used a combination of armed combat and magic to slay the fae around them.
Graves helped her back down to the ground, never letting her go.
And they ventured into the midst of battle.