The Wolves #3
Some said the journey to Nereid could be made by skirting the shoreline, but even that route depended on the tides.
One misstep could trap a traveler on a sandbar, or force them to brave waves that crashed like hammers against massive stone.
Logan had told tales of young men from long ago who had sought meaning—or oblivion—along that perilous stretch of coast. None had ever returned.
Ahead, Logan slipped. He fell back into Nic, who stumbled into Dragonfly, sending her tumbling into Collin. He caught her reflexively, trying to brace her without losing his own balance. But the slope was treacherous, thick with wet, decaying leaves.
As Nic yanked Dragonfly forward, Collin’s foot found a rotting log hidden beneath the underbrush. He lost his footing entirely.
In an instant, he was on his knees, hands scrabbling through slick foliage, grasping at anything to halt his downward slide. Dragonfly cried out. Nic shouted a warning. But it was too late.
And then—an arm.
Uriah caught him by the elbow, steadying him with unexpected strength. In the pale shimmer of moonlight, the bruise around Uriah’s eye looked particularly cruel.
Collin exhaled a sharp breath of relief. His palms throbbed. Wet leaves clung to his skin. He released the shrubs he’d grabbed in desperation and let Uriah pull him upright.
Collin and Dragonfly emerged at the edge of the village square—and froze.
Nesaea was gone.
The square was a graveyard of fire and smoke.
Buildings—what remained of them—burned from within, collapsing in flickers of orange and ash.
A woman with golden hair lay sprawled on the cobbles, her throat cleanly slit.
By the barn, a man pressed trembling hands to a gaping wound in his gut.
Death waited at his shoulder. A little girl, blood smeared across her face, clutched a doll and screamed for her mother.
Farther along, a row of villagers knelt with their hands bound behind their backs—silent, slack-faced, condemned.
Then—Uriah stumbled into view, Logan close behind, both pale with horror. When Logan caught sight of the burning cabin, he let out a strangled scream and lunged forward. Uriah grabbed him around the waist, wrestling him back.
Collin couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. The panic was written in every movement. That cabin—was it Logan’s? Was someone still inside?
The square churned with terror. Gravis and Niall limped in from the far side, Gravis half-slumped against Niall. Nic and Clive were binding prisoners. A frantic dog barked furiously from somewhere nearby. A cow burst past them, rope dangling from its neck.
Then Logan broke free.
He swung wildly and caught Uriah in the face. Uriah hit the ground with a shriek, blood pouring from his nose. Logan sprinted for the fire.
Collin barely thought. He saw Tate charging after Logan, sword drawn, and let go of Dragonfly’s hand. Lumen flashed from its sheath. He ran, faster than he thought his legs would carry him.
He would not let Logan face this alone.
Just before Logan reached the flames, a figure launched from the shadows—Niall. He tackled Logan midstride. The two slammed into the ground, dust and straw exploding around them.
A cry split the air.
Collin spun. In Logan’s frenzy, the prisoners had turned.
Nic and Clive were under siege. Clive lay on his side, unmoving, eyes shut, lips slack. Nic was still fighting—barely. One man pinned him to the dirt, hammering fists into his neck and jaw. Another yanked his arms back, binding him.
Nic choked out a groan. Blood bubbled from the corner of his mouth. He was losing. He was disappearing beneath fists and fury.
On the far end of the square, Captain Owen and his guards surged forward, blades drawn—but they were too far.
Collin’s lungs burned. Time twisted. The square screamed. And Nic was still being beaten—mercilessly, endlessly—as if pain alone could settle the dead.
Collin was paralyzed—torn in two.
Nic was being brutalized, pummeled into the dirt. Logan, unarmed, was stumbling straight toward a sword.
Collin hesitated.
For one second too long, he didn’t know where to go.
Logan and Niall were still locked in a struggle—not against each other, but against the fire. Niall was trying to hold Logan back from the flames. The house was fully ablaze, fire leaping from windows and roof. No one inside could have survived.
Then Tate arrived.
Steel rang out like thunder tearing through sky. Niall’s blade clashed with the guard’s, the brutal rhythm of their duel rising over the square. Logan collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, as the fight raged just feet away. He didn’t seem to notice.
With Niall defending Logan, Collin spun and sprinted toward Nic and Clive.
Lumen flashed in his hand. The men attacking Nic saw him coming and scattered.
Collin fell to his knees beside his friends. Nic was dazed, bruised, but conscious. Clive was motionless. Collin yanked at the ropes but couldn’t undo them.
“There’s a knife,” Nic croaked, voice hoarse. “My pocket.”
Collin dug it out. The blade was small, but sharp. He worked the knot, fast, clumsy, frantic.
Behind him, smoke rolled low and acrid. The air burned. Shouts echoed from the square—Owen’s voice rising as new guards charged in.
Dragonfly appeared with Uriah, both bloodied. Aries and Lekyi closed in behind them.
The square was a battlefield now.
As Collin sliced the last knot free, Dragonfly dropped beside Clive. “How long has he been out?” she cried, flipping him onto his back.
Nic winced. “They hit him hard. It’s my fault. Logan—he distracted me.”
They all turned toward the burning cabin. Logan still knelt, weeping. Niall stood in front of him like a sentinel. Tate stepped back—but Owen had arrived. Sword in hand.
The smoke parted like a curtain. The fire cast flickering shadows behind them, painting the square with the glow of hell.
Collin rose to his feet, heart hammering. Something was wrong.
“Kill him,” Captain Owen snarled. “That’s an order. Kill him!”
Collin staggered forward, Lumen clenched in sweaty palms. Nic tried to rise beside him but faltered.
Niall lifted his sword—high, defiant—then let it fall at Owen’s feet. The clatter rang out like a bell, sharp, heart stopping.
Nic lunged again but collapsed. Collin caught him.
Voices screamed.
Owen raised his blade. Niall didn’t flinch.
And then—it happened.
Collin felt it like his own flesh being torn.
Owen’s sword plunged into Niall’s chest.
Niall jerked. Blood surged from his mouth and wound. Owen yanked the blade free. Niall dropped to his knees, eyes already distant.
Aries and Lekyi rushed forward—but too late.
Collin moved on instinct. He ran.
Lumen struck the back of a guard, biting deep. Blood sprayed. The man screamed and fell.
Aries collided with Owen. Blades sang. Aries fought like a man possessed, all fire and fury. Owen was methodical, precise—ruthless.
Lekyi met Tate head-on. Solus wailed with him, each strike echoing rage and grief.
More footsteps thundered. Collin turned—another guard.
He didn’t think. He attacked. Blade against blade, sweat and smoke blurring his vision. He drove forward, unrelenting, until Lumen found the man’s upper arm. With a cry, the guard dropped his weapon.
“Collin! Watch out!” Dragonfly’s scream.
He spun—too late.
Captain Eric. Gray eyes like a storm. Behind him, a dozen more guards poured into the fray.
“Let them come,” Collin snarled.
He raised Lumen. Steel met steel. Sparks flew.
Collin fought with everything he had—rage, grief, the raw scream of heartbreak. He didn’t recognize the blur at the edge of his vision.
Then—impact.
A blow slammed into the side of his skull. His vision exploded. His arms flailed; Lumen flew from his grip.
The world pitched sideways. His face hit the earth. Sound dissolved into ringing. The fire flickered to ash.
The last thing he felt was the earth beneath him.
Then—nothing.
For a moment, Collin looked up toward the crest of the incline. Dragonfly stood there, framed by moonlight and shadow, Nic’s arms still braced around her waist. Her eyes found his, wide with worry—a silent plea, asking if he was alright.
Collin nodded, though the world felt too unsteady.
“What’s the hold up? Keep moving!” a guard snapped from the rear.
Collin forced himself forward. Every step sent sparks of pain through his hips; his legs were on the verge of tearing loose from their sockets. The earth tilted and swayed beneath him.
As he reached the top, Dragonfly extended her hand. He seized it, clinging to the warmth of her touch like a lifeline. That slender connection pulled him the final steps, grounding him. Once again on level ground, he turned and hauled Uriah up beside him.
Nic pressed himself against the thick wall of foliage and gave a small nod, signaling for Collin and Dragonfly to move ahead. Then he fell back behind his brother, silent and watchful—his battered body ever standing guard.
Off and on, Collin drifted at the edge of awareness, his mind submerged in murky water. Voices broke through—shouting, angry, urgent. Captain Eric was barking orders, each word slicing through black powder smoke. But Collin didn’t answer. He let go, let himself sink. It was easier than waking.
When he surfaced again, the pain was still there, thrumming behind his eyes—but the world had shifted. He blinked and found himself staring into Dragonfly’s face.
She was illuminated by silver moonlight and the ghostly haze of smoke. A halo encircled her, glittering like the edge of a dream. For one heart-stopping moment, Collin wondered if he’d died—and she, radiant and real, was his reward.
“It’s time to go,” she whispered.
He would go anywhere with her. Into paradise or into the flames—as long as she held his hand, he’d follow.
She did. Small but steady, she pulled him to his feet, anchoring his balance as he swayed.
The fires had burned themselves out. What remained of Nesaea lay in ruin—charred beams, sunken roofs, smoke trailing toward the stars.
Some villagers had slipped away, vanishing into the forest’s embrace.
Guards had already been dispatched to hunt them.
Others hadn’t escaped. Their bodies would be burned.
Those who had survived—children clinging to siblings, bloodied adults, the silent elderly—were herded like shadows back toward the summit.
Collin and Dragonfly fell into line with the rest.
The massacre had lasted only a few hours.
But to Collin, it felt like he had lived and died a dozen lifetimes beneath that smoke-choked sky.
The golden sun had just begun to rise when Collin stepped into the Chroma town square. He stood beside Aries, now relieved of the boy he had carried so long. Dragonfly was at Collin’s side, her fingers threaded tightly through his.
Nic and Uriah trudged in behind them, their steps faltering. A dozen more displaced villagers followed, herded by guards. They did not pause but were led onward toward North Town.
Rhea and Sky arrived soon after. A guard ordered Sky to hand the infant over to a Nesaea woman.
More guards passed, more villagers—ghosts with open eyes—until finally Logan stepped into view.
He glanced toward his friends, but Captain Owen barked an order, sending him onward with the others.
There was nothing Collin could do—not to stop him, not even to comfort him.
Logan, kind-hearted and gentle, had lost everything.
Then came Gravis, limping heavily with Lekyi supporting him.
Collin waited with his friends. The silence between them was heavy, breathless. Then Clive appeared, staggering into their midst. As one, they reached for him, drawing him into their circle, holding him tightly within the grief they now shared.
Last came Niall.
His body, shrouded and still, was carried into the square by two guards. Collin turned his face into Dragonfly’s hair. He would not look—not at Niall’s shape beneath the cloth, not at the truth etched in silence.
When he lifted his head again, Captain Sol stood before them.
A wave of rage coursed through Collin’s veins—but it broke just as quickly. He had no strength left to give it life. Around him, the others stood hollow-eyed, heads bowed. Not in submission—but in a weight beyond weariness. They were emptied.
“It is unfortunate that one amongst you had to die,” Sol said, voice as sharp and cold as steel left in snow. “He defied orders. And he paid the price.”
Sol let the words settle like ash.
“As for the rest of you—your duties are done. You may return to the lives you left behind. You are no longer wolves.
You are dismissed.”