Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Violet
War is here. For once peaceful communities, that means a state of constant danger.
It has been a week since the cells and my bonding with Darrion, the last of my mates. A week of constant attacks, of constant rallying, as they test our defenses. A week where I’ve had to watch Rafe writhe and break apart and heal and rest and writhe again.
Sleep is fitful.
Atlas’s quarters have been turned into a hub of sorts.
Master Lychen. Master Pugstone. Apprentices.
Servants. Rafe’s litter upon the floor. A temporary nest for me nearby.
Books. They are scattered everywhere, on the floor, in stacks, and upon tables and chairs.
Open upon passages, bookmarked and reviewed.
Peace does not exist. There are but brief respites when one of my mates crawls into my temporary nest with me, weary from the battling, to hold me, to offer comfort in a simple embrace.
But there is no true rest. Not when our community is under threat.
Not when Rafe’s transition is not yet done with him.
I come to dread the sound of the door opening—the sight of one of my mates beaten and battered from the fight, worn down. I come to dread the sound of Rafe moaning, for it often signals another bout of rapid change.
I lift my head from the passage and go over to where he lies.
He has already changed. It is hard to look upon him and reconcile just how much.
Terrifying. Especially his face. The broader line of his brow, the deeper set of his jaw…
I just want him to open his eyes, for it to be my Rafe inside the new wrapper.
Yet the hollow aspect to his cheeks, the unnatural pallor, tells a story of the toll.
Will the next transition be one too many?
The door opens.
I steel myself, pushing the hair back from Rafe’s forehead, kissing his brow.
It is not Atlas, weary from battle, nor Darrion, nor Fenix, nor even Lark, but Master Lychen’s two young apprentices, Lunde and Thomas, their arms weighted down with books. They are both exceptionally bright, and I’m grateful for their help.
“We found these in the old store at the back of the library!” Thomas announces.
He drops the stack on the table—several thick tomes, but also a collection of smaller, leather-bound books. Lunde adds to the pile.
I rise from where I kneel and go over to join them, as do Master Pugstone and Master Lychen.
The Question of Late Alpha Emergence.
Master Lychen immediately snags that book before I even get a look in. “Excellent,” he says, already flicking through the pages.
Late emergence in wolf shifters.
A possible correlation… Before I can reach for it, Master Pugstone commandeers it and strides off to his favorite study chair by the window.
Lunde, Thomas, and I search through the remainder of the pile.
The Sundial Doctrine of Threshold Transformations catches my eye. I run my fingers over the thick lettering and then open the book.
Sounds a little vague.
I have scoured everything we already have many times over to no avail. The others have already taken the promising new ones.
My hands shake.
I am tired.
I don’t want to lose him.
But how many times can he go through this?
Rafe remains seemingly at rest. Only he has not once woken, and I know this is not over yet.
I take the book back to my nest, which is more of a book repository by this stage. Here, with Rafe in my line of sight, I open to the first page.
It's an illustration of a cavernous chamber beneath a domed glass roof. On the far center, a sundial vast enough to fill a courtyard. My brows pull together. It looks familiar, although I have visited no such room. I flip the pages…
The Sundial Chamber amplifies what lies dormant. It does not create power; it reveals it. In rare instances, the surge will extend beyond the bond.
Oh, this was not what I thought. This is a record of the resonant bonding Master Pugstone mentioned in the wake of my mating with Darrion and Fenix in the cell.
I was not entirely present of mind at the time, and given what has happened since, had not given the matter much thought. But this is the same room as the picture Master Pugstone showed us… minus the intimate scene.
There has been neither time nor inclination toward intimacy when the situation remains so grave. But as Master Pugstone mentioned, it was likely, in part, responsible for Rafe’s transition.
I glance from the book to Rafe and back again, and read a little more.
Manifestation without integration is the most perilous state of all.
No, I don't like the sound of that…
To leave such a manifestation unresolved invites collapse.
That sounds… even worse.
Only, it made them bigger, the griffins at least… and Lark too. It made them glow… even Rafe.
But what exactly else does it do?
A prickling sensation manifests at the back of my neck.
I dive in and read.
Atlas
As I land on the eyrie, I find Darrion and Fenix preparing to leave. There has been no attack yet today. It is only a matter of time. Patrols are constant. Our armies are scattered among the communities. This is not merely a raid for gemstones. This is a hostile takeover in the making.
I will not go down as a Pride Leader who lost an eyrie and community to an insidious foe.
Shadowborn Pride have always been our closest allies. On them at least, I can count. But with only four of the seven griffin prides in support, we are stretched thin. Perhaps the final three will commit at the eleventh hour.
Maybe they don’t care if we fall. War provides opportunities for schemers to exploit.
I clasp arms with my second and third. “Have you seen her?”
They shake their heads.
“No, not today,” Fenix says. “She was asleep when we called, Lark curled around her in wolf form. Rafe was resting. We spoke to Master Pugstone. He said some new books that looked promising. We grabbed some food in the kitchen and crashed in the barracks for a few hours.”
“And where is Lark now?”
“All the way over at Acton Trussell. The mutt can cover some ground,” Darrion says, “And has a nose where the dark fae and their rockling pets are concerned.”
“They are ancient adversaries,” Aldric offers. “His people’s conflict with them transcends even ours. His blood calls him to hunt.”
“I wish I had a dozen more Larks,” I say. “Has Rafe shown any signs of wakefulness?”
“None, unfortunately,” Darrion says.
The worry on their faces is an echo of mine.
“Alas, my long history offers nothing of value regarding alphas and their late transitions,” Aldrich says. “We are missing something…”
Yes. I’m starting to get a terrible feeling that we are. Only what is it?
I have no time to fucking breathe, let alone spare a thought for a transition that refuses to yield.
“I’ll go and see Violet and our scholars now… Good hunting.”
I’m halfway to my quarters when Aldric suddenly rouses from contemplation and announces, “Hurry.” Malaise spikes through the bond, and I take off at a run.
As I slam through the entry door to my quarters, I find Master Lychen, his two assistants, and Violet gathered around Rafe, who’s in the throes of another seizure.
I rush over to help, grasping his face to hold it still as they prise his jaw apart and push the tube down his throat.
I like to think of myself as battle-hardy. The sensation of his bones popping under my fingers, the agonized sound that leaves him, and the sure knowledge that Violet has to witness a man she loves going through this time and time again, breaks me.
I break for all of us.
I just want him to pull the fuck through.
And then he settles.
The quietness is profound.
Master Pugstone is standing close by, a book clasped to his chest. Violet, kneeling to Rafe’s right, rocks back on her heels and bursts into tears.
I gather her close, holding her as she babbles and weeps and babbles some more. Swinging her up into my arms, I carry her to the nearby couch and sit.
Her small fist grips the collar of my shirt with surprising fierceness, still babbling urgent words. “Sundial Chamber… We have to try!”
Sundial Chamber? I try to soothe her. To hold her closer that I might take this burden of pain from her. She’s trembling uncontrollably in my arms—exhausted. We’re all fucking exhausted.
I wish Lark were here so he might fucking purr for her.
“Atlas, we have to try!”
“Try what, love?” I would try anything at this point.
Aware of close presence, I lift my head. Master Pugstone, Master Lychen, and his two nervous assistants have gathered around where we sit.
My gaze shifts to the cot on the floor, where Rafe might be sleeping at peace were it not for the distended nature of his skin with broken bones and the bruises blooming across his body.
I swallow down the bile.
“Is he stable?”
“Yes, for now,” Master Lychen says.
“How many times has it been?”
“That was his twelfth transition,” Master Lychen says gravely.
I nod.
“We have to try,” Violet begs again.
“If I might explain,” Master Pugstone says gently.
“Please do,” I say.
Master Lychen motions to his assistants. They rush to collect a small occasional table and put it directly in front of me. Master Pugstone places the book on top of it and opens it to a picture of the Sundial Chamber, this time minus the intimate scene.
“The Sundial Chamber,” I say unnecessarily.
“The Sundial Doctrine of Threshold Transformations,” Master Pugstone says.
“Thomas and Lunde found it in one of the storerooms off the library.
Forgotten, it would seem. They were searching for something—anything—that might offer insight into Rafe's rapid transition. But perhaps we were looking in the wrong place. It was Violet who found it and made the connection.”
My brows pull together.
“Rafe lingers in a perilous state. What happened between Violet, Darrion, and Fenix proved that the resonance works for you. It may also have been the trigger for Rafe's transition. But it is incomplete. And an incomplete resonance is unstable.”
“Resonance? Why does that word seem familiar?”
“The Sundial Chamber is a conduit—an amplifier to what you experienced before. A gateway to a higher plane of connection. True resonance. I believe you are part of something extraordinary.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise to attention.
Master Pugstone’s throat works. Violet’s tears have dried, and I sense her complete focus.
The Sundial Chamber illustration reels me back in. But it is not the picture of the empty room that is in my mind’s eye, but the one that Master Pugstone showed me before.
“You believe this will help Rafe?”
“It may,” Master Pugstone says bluntly. “What we are talking about is merely a theory. And one not without risks.”
I swipe my hand down my face, aware that Violet’s eyes are on me, and glance down. Reflected in her face are many days of worry—it has taken a toll. I wish I could take her pain away. Could bear it for her. I wish that life did not involve tragedy, but the truth is that it does.
I must be strong for her.
“You want to try this.”
She exhales slowly. “I don’t know what I want, except for Rafe to be whole.
The road to that is complex. Master Lychen and his apprentices have read many books about late alpha transitions over the past week.
We all have. We have discussed it at length.
Some patterns are clear. Rafe is particularly mature to be going through this. ”
My hand trembles as I use my thumb to brush a fresh tear from her cheek.
“We are entering dangerous territory,” she says. “He has transitioned many times. We cannot know when it will be one too many. He is strong of heart and mind. He is also only a man. I am terrified for him—” She falters.
Gods, the burden she is under breaks me anew.
“There is a risk in trying this,” Master Lychen says quietly, “But there is also a risk in doing nothing. If he were to rouse naturally after twelve transitions, he would be the first documented case to have done so. That is not to say it is impossible…”
“But it is highly unlikely,” I finish.
He nods. I understand the facts presented to me. But I also see the weight upon Violet’s shoulders. She wants to do this, but I cannot let it be her decision, for if it is the wrong one, she will be broken enough.
No, this decision must be mine and mine alone. The amplification effect of the Sundial Chamber may be Rafe’s only hope. And perhaps the final step in true resonance will complete his transformation.
“I believe we must do this for Rafe. And not only him, for our situation is desperate…three griffins are gravely wounded such that they are unable to shift and heal. The dark fae come in great numbers, as do the kings and queens of Hydornia. They come, not merely to pillage our people of gems and wealth—but to claim our very lands.” I turn to Violet and cup her cheek, seeing the strength of purpose there that is enough to bring me, a Pride Leader, to his knees.
“We shall do this. For Rafe. And for all.”
I love this woman, completely, wholly. The truth? I do this because I would do anything for her.