Chapter 25 #2
I scrape uselessly on the ground, trying to form shapes with my paw. I want to scratch letters in the dirt and find some way to communicate the horror of what Quinnlan did to me. But my paws are made for running, not writing. I attempt to speak again. What comes out is a strangled whine.
Rhianelle seems to understand my frustration. “I see. Someone did this to you,” she says quietly. “Anastarros’s blessing alone won’t heal this. You’re lucky I just came back from the temple.”
She reaches into a small pouch at her belt and pulls out some herbs. Her fingers work quickly, crushing and mixing them with water from a small vial to create a paste that smells of earth and ash. She begins packing the paste into my wound with gentle fingers.
“My sister taught me this,” she says, her voice distant with memory. “Before she... before I lost her.”
There’s grief in those words. The paste burns at first, then cools. My wolf body shudders at the sensation but I don’t pull away.
The initial contact is like fire against raw flesh. But within seconds the burning fades, replaced by a spreading coolness.
“You lost something,” she says softly, working the medicine into the infected flesh. “I can see it in your eyes.”
She pauses, her hands stilling for just a moment.
“I know about lost things. I lost my sister when I was young. And now my friend Blaire is missing.” Her voice cracks slightly, the queen’s mask slipping to reveal the girl underneath. “Everyone tells me she’s probably dead. That I should give up hope and move on.”
She resumes her work. “But I’m not giving up. I’m going to the Demon Lord’s castle to find her.”
The determination in her voice reminds me of Aurora.
That same stubborn refusal to accept the world’s cruelty.
Queen Rhianelle works in silence after that, cleaning the infection and passing me Anastarros’s blessings.
She binds the wound with soft cloth she tears from the hem of her own dress.
Her hands are practiced, like she’s done this many times before.
“There,” she says finally, tying off the bandage. “The blessings from Anastarros should draw the poison out by morning.”
Already I can feel it working.
The burning in my wound becomes bearable for the first time since the guard’s spear found its mark. My body, traitorous thing that it is, chooses life even when my mind had been choosing death.
Shade returns with a wooden plate piled with cold meat and a large bowl of water. He sets them down carefully between us, then immediately returns to his protective position behind the Queen.
The smell of food fills me with desperate hunger. Yet, I hesitate at taking a bite. The meat is some kind of roasted fowl or game bird. It would be so easy to just let go. But the last time I ate raw meat, I felt more animal than myself. I’m not sure I can afford to lose more of myself.
“Eat,” Rhianelle says gently. “You need your strength. Whatever you’re planning to do next, you can’t do it starving.”
She’s right. The hunger is overwhelming. I lower my muzzle to the plate and gobble the whole thing.
The meat disappears in seconds, swallowed until it’s gone.
I barely taste it. My body knows what it needs and takes it.
I love this simple clarity of predator instincts.
But every time I give in to the ease of running on four legs, to the satisfaction of using teeth and claws, I can feel myself fading.
When I’m finished, Rhianelle stands and brushes dirt from her dress. “Come with me,” she says. “There’s an old stable behind the garden. No one uses it anymore, but it’s dry and safe.”
I follow her on unsteady legs, Shade trailing behind us like a silent shadow. The food is already helping and my steps are easier. Energy spreads through my body, pushing back the exhaustion.
The stable is exactly as she described with clean straw on the floor and walls that will keep out the wind.
“You can stay here,” the queen decrees. “I’ll arrange for healers to check on you and food to be brought regularly. You’ll be safe within the compound walls.”
I try one more time to catch Shade’s attention, willing him to see me. But he just watches me with those empty pale eyes, seeing a beast and nothing more.
Rhianelle reaches out slowly and strokes my fur gently. I let her, too exhausted to pull away. The simple contact reminds me of what I’ve lost. Shade steps back toward the stable entrance, giving us a moment.
Her touch is gentle. She crouches to my level and we stare into each other’s eyes for a small eternity. “I have to go now. Blaire needs me but I promise I’ll find a way to help you.”
Guilt crashes over me. The queen saved my life today and showed me kindness. She has no idea the monster lying at her feet once tried to end her. She was just another obstacle standing between House Clayborne and the throne back then.
I was prepared to murder her without hesitation. But she’s powerful. This elven queen is protected by something ancient and dark.
Shade clears his throat from the doorway. “Your uncle wants you to prepare for your journey to the Demon Lord’s castle. He’s asking for you.”
“I know.” She looks down at me one last time. The sadness in her expression says she wishes I’d stay, but she understands why I can’t. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, whatever that is.”
She turns to leave, Shade falling into step beside her. I watch them go, the queen and her assassin. Somewhere deep in my chest, I hope her friend is safe.
When their footsteps fade, I curl up in the straw. Finally safe, but more alone than I’ve ever been. I think of Aurora running somewhere, hunted the way I was hunted. Is she still alive? Did they catch her and transform her into something worse than this? The questions circle endlessly in my mind.
Five hunters. The guild’s best trackers. She’s fast, clever, and trained. But so were the hunters chasing me and they caught me easily enough. What chance does she have?
I picture her in a cage or worse, already dead in some forest, her body left for scavengers. The thought makes me want to howl.
An old healer arrives as twilight deepens, bringing more food and medicine. She examines Rhianelle’s work with approval, then adds her own poultices and mutters blessings from Anastarros. I don’t understand the words spoken. The prayers wash over me like cool water.
Rhianelle’s healing has already done most of the work. The infection is gone, the wound closing clean. I can feel my flesh knitting together bit by bit. By morning there will be nothing but a scar.
When the old healer leaves, I wait until full dark falls.
Then I run.
I push through the stable door, racing across the courtyard.
“Wait—” I hear a guard call from somewhere behind me, but I’m already through the garden gate and out into the dying light of day’s end.
Twilight paints Aelfheim in shades of gray and purple. I run through empty streets, my body stronger thanks to Rhianelle’s magic but my mind is more fractured than ever.
Where do I go?
Aelfheim's walls loom ahead, massive and ancient. Beyond them lies boundless forest and the wilderness. I pass through as darkness falls, leaving the capital behind.
A gentle stream runs in the forest, its water clear and cold.
The moon reflects perfectly on its surface, broken only by my face.
I look at my reflection, black fur and sharp teeth.
The only familiar thing is those sapphire-blue eyes.
They're all that remains unchanged despite my transformation into a wolf. This is what I am now. What I’ll die as, eventually.
The Wolven part of me wants to hunt and surrender to instinct, to forget everything that hurts. I can feel the urge building. The desire to chase the rabbit I can smell thirty feet away and run for the joy of running instead of fear.
The real part of me wants to die.
I want to walk into the stream and keep walking until the water closes over my head. It would be easy to stop fighting and let the current take me. Painless, even.
Caught between those two halves, I do neither. I simply exist, moment by moment, breath by breath.
The guild won. They’ve given me a fate worse than death. I’ve become a thing I feared becoming, unable to even curse the names of those who did this to me.
I throw my head back and howl into the uncaring night.