CHAPTER 35
“BEREN.” His name rushed out of Charie’s mouth. “I thought you were with your family tonight.”
“I was. But a Thalryn still needs to make his rounds,” he said. Lenore backed up to the dresser behind her as he moved toward the bed. He didn’t even acknowledge Lenore, choosing to focus on his patient. His back faced them, and all she could hear was the weariness in his voice.
“Not this again.” He picked up the etheria from Auden’s chest, then tossed it to the side. “I told you to give up on this. It’s over, Charie.”
“He’s still breathing!”
“Every breath he takes is one step closer to death. We need to prepare for the inevitable.”
“No... NO!” The burst of power in Charie’s voice shattered the quiet of the room. “We have someone else that can help us now—Lenore! I’m not giving up—not anymore!”
“Why do you talk as if we’re on the same side?” Beren reached down to check Auden’s pulse. “I’m a murderer.”
“He’s still alive, Beren.”
“His blood is already on my hands.” Each word was calm, worn down to grit from many long nights. “I’m only here to help ease whatever days he has left.”
Charie’s breath quickened. “Stop talking like that.”
“I administered the death that ate at his mind and body. I listened to the advice of a woman with no medical knowledge. I listened and made a cure that was a poison.” He scratched his bearded chin. “So much for being a Thalryn, eh?”
“What... do you mean?” Lenore asked cautiously. “You gave him something that hurt him?”
Beren didn’t turn around. “You came at a terrible time, Lenore.” He leaned over, then slipped a hand into his coat pocket.
When his fist opened, a tiny orb of light fluttered free—a sun droplet.
The light drew closer to Auden’s face as Beren lifted one of Auden’s eyelids.
“The Caernith fell ill with something I couldn’t identify.
Nothing I’ve seen before. Nothing helped.
Then Arisa told me she’s seen victims of this.
Told me what their healer did. Moon’s crescent—against my own judgment, I listened. ”
“What was it?” Lenore whispered.
“I cursed him.” He turned his head slightly, and Lenore saw a glimpse of the agonized shadows that clung underneath Beren’s hollow eyes. “I cursed him with the umbral thistle—gave him the dose that submitted his body to her.”
Slowly he lifted his palms, staring down at his tanned skin that he began to scratch at.
“It’s still on me,” he muttered. But whatever he was pointing out, no one else could see.
His shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths.
“The black scourge that poured from its roots—permanently dyed onto my flesh.” Blood smeared across his palms as his scratching grew frantic.
A strained growl rumbled from his throat.
Lenore and Charie exchanged panicked glances.
The room suddenly became too small—claustrophobic beneath Beren’s overbearing presence.
Lenore’s eyes flicked to the door. But when she looked back at Charie, she saw that Charie’s gaze was locked onto Auden.
She wasn’t going to leave. Lenore swallowed heavily.
“It’s not too late, Thalryn Beren,” Lenore said, fighting through the tension that sought to oppress her voice. “You were led astray—”
A sharp growl cut her off. “No. Don’t deny my guilt. Everything I’ve done since has been lies. Deception. Creating abominations that hide the Lucyn.”
“You don’t have to anymore!” Lenore withdrew a vial of swirling golden magic from her pouch. She lifted it up. “This can help him! Enough to stabilize him until we secure better help. I know we can—”
“I won’t let you.” A cold rush of air swept through the room. Animalistic eyes locked onto Lenore.
The dresser behind her exploded as Beren lunged, snarling with great intensity. Pain shot through Lenore’s knees as she barely threw herself aside. Splinters of wood sprayed everywhere. Liquid burst from their vessels, glass shards scattering across the room.
“BEREN!” Charie screamed. “NO!”
The fully transformed werewolf didn’t answer. Nothing in his eyes held any trace of himself any longer. He clawed at his head, moaning and shaking his head violently. His snout curled back, flashing rows of sharp teeth. A bloodcurdling roar ripped through his jaws.
He lunged again, claws snagging her dress hem. Lenore screamed as she lost her footing, falling hard against the floor. The wooden planks slipped beneath her fingers as she was dragged back—every inch bringing her closer to her demise.
Black liquid spewed from Beren’s jaws as his voice warped, layered with a whisper that had haunted Lenore for so long.
“Give it up, Lenore. If you do, you won’t get hurt.
” It was soothing in a way that was not befitting the werewolf’s appearance—a lullaby sung in the night’s dark.
“I’ll crown you with strength. I’ll welcome you with love.
I’ll make you a werewolf powerful enough to ruin Arkhaven for abandoning you—”
A heavy thwack struck Beren’s back. He howled in rage, whipping his head back toward Charie. The remnants of a nightstand lay smashed on the floor near him. Charie’s human form was replaced with a crouching werewolf, her hazel eyes brimming with tears, and ears flat to her skull.
Within that split second, Lenore looked down at the vial in her hand. The sound of her heart hammered in her ears. She gritted her teeth. I’m sorry, Auden.
She yanked the cork out of the vial and surged forward. Just as Beren opened his jaws again, she hurled it deep into his throat.
The glass shattered.
Light hissed outward as Beren choked and gagged. He clawed desperately at his throat, unable to scream as thick pools of black flooded out of his mouth. His body keeled over, claws carving jagged grooves into the floor.
“Stars,” Lenore whispered, retreating from the black liquid. The stench of sulfur burned her nose as she watched the pools of black ignite with gold until nothing remained.
Claws shrank into hands. Fur vanished beneath a white coat. Beren continued to dry heave, his body convulsing with the force. As his movements slowed, a flicker of gold crossed his eyes.
Lenore stayed tense. The crest of fur around Charie’s neck bristled. Beren slowly raised his head.
“... Moon’s crescent,” he muttered hoarsely. “What did you give me?”
“A light sprite’s grace,” Lenore replied. She wiped the sweat from her brow. “You were cursed too.”
Beren grunted. He went quiet, taking the time to regain his senses.
He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
“... It was the thistle. I was forced to ingest it for the sake of my family’s safety.
” He gradually sat up, groaning as he rubbed his face.
“... I believe the thistle is a seed that takes root once consumed—strengthening Arisa’s influence.
It took hold of me. It seems that what you did… burned it out. Thank you.”
Boots crunched against scattered pieces of wood. Charie joined them as human, her expression layered with unreadable complexity. Lenore’s throat tightened.
“I’m sorry, Charie,” Lenore said. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”
Charie expelled a shaky breath. “I know,” she replied. Her eyes wandered back to Auden and her lower lip twitched. “Beren needed it too.”
That was when Lenore realized Charie was covered in splintered wood and Auden remained spotless.
She had protected him amid the violent chaos.
Gently, Lenore reached out and brushed her fingers against Charie’s arm to clear the debris, doing exactly what she had done for her.
Charie gave her a small smile, but the worry didn’t leave her.
Deciding not to press her, Lenore turned to Beren. “How do you feel?”
“Still as guilty as ever.” He stood up, rubbing one of his temples.
“That... won’t go away for a while. But for the first time, I can think through it.
” Beren frowned. “All I could think about was how I failed to care for Auden properly, and there was nothing I could do. I tarnished my status as a Thalryn, and I couldn’t handle my family knowing this.
” Clearing his throat, he added, “Forgive me—I’m rambling.
This is the clearest I’ve been in a while. ”
“I want to know then—can you heal Auden?” Charie asked. The sun droplet still hovered over Auden’s pale face, casting a soft, warm hue across his cheeks.
“Charie…” Beren sighed heavily. “Auden’s condition… do you understand why he’s in a coma?”
“No.” Beren and Lenore watched as Charie made her way back to Auden. The inner corners of her brows knitted upwards, her lips parting slightly. She clutched the bed’s sheets tightly. “So tell me exactly.”
“The mithrial blood gives a powerful boost to those who wield magic. I imagine that’s what destroyed Auden’s—”
“Not ‘destroyed’,” Charie growled.
“... I imagine that’s what caused Auden to fall into this state,” Beren said.
“The mithrial blood wouldn’t affect Auden on its own because he has no affinity for magic, but it enhanced the thistle—and somehow, that thistle is connected to Arisa’s magic.
With that amplified power, she overwhelmed him on the inside. ”
Beren’s gaze lowered to Auden. “Our Caernith is a strong werewolf. I believe Arisa spent nearly all her power on him just to keep him in her grasp. She poisoned him from the start—just a small dose at first. What I thought was a cure… ended up being a guise to administer more of the poison.” His jaw tightened.
“Whatever power she had left, she used on me—and to tempt the werewolves she knew were already struggling.”
“That explains why Arisa stayed quiet until the pack hunted a mithrial,” Lenore murmured.
“Yes… it was enough to override whatever remained of his will—the part of him that was still fighting what she’d planted in him.” His brows lowered. “He’s still there—but she has complete control over him now.”
Charie fell to her knees. A look of desperation was on her face when she turned to Beren. “The Vesren and his search party are finding something to help him. There must be another option besides a vial of grace!”
Guilt stung Lenore’s core. She was the one that demanded Edmund to bring Azelf with him. If Azelf and Pip were here, they would’ve been able to do something. She squeezed her wrist, unable to look in Charie and Auden’s direction any longer.
“Charie, I don’t think even a vial of grace can purge what’s in him. He’ll need far more than that. At best, the search party might find something to ease any pain he’s going through,” Beren said. “We’re far past any sort of natural ingredient—”
Lenore nudged Beren as politely as possible. She shook her head silently. Beren’s eyes screwed shut. Charie sniffed loudly.
“Auden... Auden...” Charie whispered his name over and over, clinging to his side of the bed. Dark spots formed on the covers as tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
Lenore stepped forward. Her guilt urged her to stay silent and hide, but she couldn’t. Not to someone whose feelings she empathized with so deeply. “I’m so sorry, Charie.” She lowered her head. “It’s my fault he can’t be healed.”
“What—what do you mean?”
Lenore hesitated. She knew Azelf didn’t want her to say anything, even if she only asked about Edmund. But this was different—she couldn’t stay silent now. “I know someone who could help him—someone right in your pack.” She slowly looked to the side. “And I sent him with Edmund.”
“I don’t understand.” Charie wiped at her face to no avail. “What?”
“Azelf... right before he left, he told me he—” she paused, then kept going. “He told me he was a light mage—something rare in werewolves, I heard. It was something he had only just discovered.”
Beren’s eyes widened. “Are you speaking the truth? The gift of magic is more than just rare—it’s nearly unheard of for werewolves.”
“Yes. He doesn’t know much about his abilities, and I’m not sure how much of it he can even use, but he was helping Auden all along.”
Charie said nothing. The fabric under her hands bunched tightly.
“But I... I told Edmund to take him with him. To... keep him safe from Arisa. From anyone else in their party that might be on her side.”
“I see...” Beren raised a hand to his chin. He took it in stride, mulling the revelation over with deep thought. “Arisa is no ordinary Lucyn. Sending Azelf to keep the Vesren and the others safe isn’t illogical.”
But Charie cried harder. She slammed her hands down on the floor, then she looked at Lenore through her burning tears.
“Lenore... why?” Charie asked. Her fingers curled into fists. “Auden—Auden is the one that needs healing! If this is all true—you—you took that away from him!” She clenched her jaw too late—shame flickering across her gaze as if she hadn’t meant for the words to come out that way.
Her words dug painfully deep. “I’m sorry,” Lenore said softly. “I thought my vial would be enough. But I was wrong. I never meant for anyone to suffer.”
Charie turned away, weeping bitterly. There were no words left between them. Remorse marked Lenore’s face, and a sorrow that tasted overwhelmingly sour drowned her throat.
To see Charie like this and Auden’s fate uncertain, Lenore carried the silent burden of whether she had done the right thing.
But she wasn’t sure if she would’ve changed her decision.
Time only offered a moment more of grief’s plight. A faint creak from the floor below and shuffling boots sobered everyone’s reality.
They were still deep in enemy territory.