Chapter 15 #2
All but three—Apollo, and the two still flanking Phoebe. They would stay.
They wove through the darkness back to the barracks, the crackling fire and shouts of pursuit fading behind them.
Kaixo darted forward the moment he saw the right building, clearly familiar with the place, but Alena caught his arm before he could enter.
“Kaixo,” she said gently, crouching to his level. “Your mother… she hasn’t woken up yet. You need to prepare yourself—”
His eyes bulged, and he slipped from her grasp before she could finish. He bolted inside, calling out with a raw cry. “Amatxo!”
“Kaixo, wait!”
He vanished behind the curtain, and Alena rushed after him, leaving Apollo at the door to stand guard.
Inside, Leywani stood off to one side, her expression grave.
The air was thick with the bitter scent of willow bark tea.
San lay still on the mat, her skin waxen, her breathing a shallow whisper.
The herbs had dulled her pain, but they couldn’t undo what had been done.
Her wounds were far beyond anything Alena could mend.
Phoebe came up beside her. “No luck with the healer then?”
Alena barely found her voice. “He died at the gate.”
A sharp cry broke the stillness. “Amatxo!” Kaixo had dropped to his knees beside his mother, his small hands shaking her limp shoulder. “Amatxo!”
Tears spilled freely down his cheeks. The rawness in his voice cleaved straight through Alena’s chest.
“Kaixo…” she tried, her own throat tight. “She’s—”
San stirred.
Barely.
Her brow wrinkled, and her eyelids fluttered open just enough to focus. A faint smile touched her lips as she saw her son. She murmured his name softly and her fingers curled around Kaixo’s cheek, brushing away his tears with what little strength she had left.
Alena crossed the room and knelt on her other side. “San, I’m here,” she whispered, aching to give comfort she couldn’t promise. “I’m here.”
San’s other hand sought Alena’s, trembling as it clasped tight.
She spoke to Kaixo, her words tender and rhythmic in a language Alena couldn’t understand. Kaixo broke down, shaking his head in disbelief, sobbing into the cradle of his mother’s palm.
Then San’s eyes searched the room. “Alena?”
“I’m here.” Alena leaned close so San could see her face clearly.
Sea-green eyes met hers—no fear, no panic. Only peace. And something deeper. Trust.
San’s fingers brushed the golden shimmer of Alena’s Omega Mark. Then, in a raspy voice, she whispered something in her own tongue. A single phrase. One Alena couldn’t decipher. She repeated it, soft but urgent. A third time—slower now. Final.
Kaixo looked up at her, eyes red, as if to translate, but the words caught in his throat.
Alena nodded anyway, though she didn’t understand. She would honour it—whatever it was. There would be time to ask later.
San coughed, blood trickling from her mouth. Panic flashed across Kaixo’s face. “Amatxo!”
She gave him a weak smile, stroking his hand with her thumb as her eyes fluttered shut.
“Amatxo!”
Silence fell. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable.
Kaixo wept beside her, his small frame wracked with trembling sobs.
Leywani knelt, steady hands on his shoulders, murmuring quiet words though her own eyes brimmed red.
Near the doorway, Phoebe sat watch with her sword across her lap.
Outside, shouts echoed through the camp, frantic voices, rushing footsteps.
A crushing weight pressed down on Alena’s chest, and she turned towards the window. Stars still glimmered above the treetops, distant and cold. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer she hadn’t spoken in years.
She was the Omega. Chosen by the gods. Surely the Maiden—or one of the old gods—would hear. Surely they would send help. She would give anything if San could be spared.
But no answer came. No sign. No whisper in her mind.
And when the first blush of dawn bled across the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purple and dull rose, San was gone.
Alena pressed her fingers to San’s wrist, searching for a pulse. Finding none, she stroked her pale, still-warm cheek, her heart breaking.
“May your ancestors watch over you,” she whispered, voice fraying under the weight of grief.
“Amatxo?” Kaixo’s voice cracked like brittle glass. “Amatxo!”
His face crumpled, and he clung to San’s tunic, sobbing into her chest as if his grief alone might wake her. His cries pierced the hush, sharp and unrelenting.
Leywani wrapped her arms around him, whispering comfort. Her solemn gaze lifted to Alena, as if asking what came next.
Alena had no answer.
Kaixo’s sobs grew louder, each cry a knife to her heart. Phoebe appeared at her side, urgency hardening her voice. “Alena. We need to move. The soldiers will search every barrack soon.”
“I…” Alena’s mouth opened, but nothing came. Her chest seized. Panic swelled.
Kaixo’s sobs drowned out Leywani’s attempts to soothe him. Phoebe’s grip tightened on Alena’s arm. The creaking walls closed in.
The air was too thick. Damp wood. Rot. The coppery tang of blood. Everything reeked of death.
“Alena!” Phoebe snapped, almost angry now. “We have to go.”
“No—we can’t—” Her voice broke. The lump in her throat strangled her. “We can’t just leave her here.”
Her heart thundered, erratic and deafening. She couldn’t think past her grief and the pounding in her skull.
She’d failed her friend in the worst possible way, and now San was dead.
It was all her fault.
She’d promised Kaixo she would save his mother, but—
Phoebe shook her once, firm and unyielding. “You must leave, Alena.”
“No!” Alena wrenched away, stumbling back.
The room spun.
Sounds blurred—Kaixo sobbing, voices outside, the crackle of the dying fire. Her breath hitched. She couldn’t pull in air.
Everything pressed in on her.
Kaixo would hate her now. They all would.
And the soldiers were coming. They had to escape, but she couldn’t just leave San behind.
Not in some squalid, decrepit barrack.
Not in the place where she’d lived her final days as a slave.
She deserved so much better.
Alena’s mind reeled with memories—San stepping from the wagon in Bruna’s slave market, desperate to reach her boy.
Their long morning walks through the woods, gathering herbs and mushrooms. The way she made a simple soup taste like a feast. The quiet reverence she held for Ama, the goddess she believed would keep them safe.
Her final words before Alena left with Phoebe: Ama will protect us.
So why hadn’t she?
San, a kind soul who’d still smiled. Even after everything the world had taken from her.
A sob tore loose from Alena’s throat. Panic and guilt clamped around her heart. Her chest constricted, her breaths rapid and shallow until her lungs burned.
Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall. The floor tilted. Blood roared in her ears. Her vision tunnelled.
She was drowning in air.
“Alena!” Leywani dropped to her side. “Breathe! Look at me—just breathe!” She guided Alena’s head between her knees, one hand stroking her back as tremors wracked her body. “It’s all right. Slow, deep breaths. In… and out.”
Her voice was a steady anchor in the storm. Alena clung to it, forcing air into her lungs—sharp, shallow gasps at first, then gradually deeper, steadier.
Time blurred. When the panic finally loosened its grip, she raised her head.
Apollo was curled at her feet, warm eyes fixed on her. He rested his head on her boots, a silent sentinel. Alena reached down and scratched behind his ears, drawing comfort from his steady presence.
“Phoebe wrapped San and carried her out,” Leywani said softly. “The boy went with her.”
“We have to… go with them,” Alena mumbled, trying to rise. Her knees buckled, and she sank back down. “We have to leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere like this.” Leywani pressed a warm bowl of soup into her trembling hands. “Eat. The soldiers are still distracted by the fire. You’ve got a little time.”
Alena didn’t have the strength to argue. She clutched the bowl and sipped slowly. The broth warmed her, dulling the tremors.
Leywani returned with a cup of water and settled beside her. The soup was gone before Alena even realised it, her mind still stuck on San’s lifeless form and Kaixo’s cries.
Shouts carried from outside—soldiers, distant and frantic.
“The workers have returned from their shift,” Leywani said, taking the bowl and replacing it with the cup. “Along with their guards. Be careful when you slip out.”
The cup froze halfway to Alena’s lips. “You’re not coming with me?”
Leywani’s expression didn’t waver. “I can’t leave the others. They need me.”
“No…” Alena shook her head, voice cracking. “Ley, you can’t stay. Please.”
But Leywani took her hand, grip steady despite her thin frame. “Alena, listen to me.” Her voice held the same determined fire Alena had heard dozens of times in Camp Bessi. “You’ve cracked this camp open. The soldiers are scattered, afraid. The slaves are restless. This could be our only chance.”
Alena’s eyes burned with fresh tears. “Then come with us. We can regroup. Fight together.”
“Scylas is gathering the others. But you need to go.”
“Ley—”
“You’ve done your part,” Leywani pressed.
“Now let us do ours.” She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Alena’s face with a tenderness that only made it harder to hold back tears.
Her smile was faint, fragile. “If anything were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself. And neither would Kat.”
Alena lowered her gaze, the cup cold and empty in her hands. At the mention of her sister, a familiar ache coiled tight in her chest. “She left.”
Leywani’s brow furrowed. “Who, Kat?”
Apollo padded closer, pressing his head against Alena’s leg. She set the cup aside, her throat thick around the words she could barely admit.
“She joined a Rasennan legion,” she said. “She’s one of them now.”
Leywani went still. Then her voice hardened. “By the Moon… Kat’s the one who told the Rasennans about us. About the camps.”
Alena recoiled. “What? No, she wouldn’t.”
“The Freefolk were left alone for decades,” Leywani countered, eyes narrowing. “Why did the legions come for us once Kat joined them? The timing can’t be a coincidence.”
“I…” Alena’s voice caught, disbelief clawing at her. Katell would never betray her own people. “She wouldn’t—”
Her words were swallowed by heavy footsteps outside. Leywani’s face drained of colour, and she yanked Alena to her feet. “Soldiers—go! Now!”
Alena grabbed her sword belt, stumbling after her.
“There’s a secret exit here,” Leywani said, kneeling at a panel and prying loose planks. Apollo slipped through first, scouting ahead.
Alena pulled Leywani into a fierce hug. “I’ll come back with help. I promise.”
When she stepped back, Leywani’s dark eyes glistened with unshed tears, vulnerability flickering in their depths. “We’ll see each other again.”
It was a fragile promise, but Alena wanted to believe it with all her heart.
She pressed a quick kiss to Leywani’s cheek, then crouched low, sliding her sheathed sword through first before slipping after it.
Outside, the pale morning sun cast long shadows over the camp, frost glittering on every surface. Ahead, Apollo ducked through the barricade’s gap, and Alena quickened her pace, fastening her belt and melting into the shadows.
The quarry was unnervingly still, donkey-drawn carts frozen along the road.
A squad of soldiers in leather armour thundered towards the nearest barracks, ripping down the thin curtains slaves had hung for warmth.
Orders barked. A wave of frightened sobs and angry murmurs rippled through the huddled slaves, shivering under watchful eyes.
Alena reached the barricade, ready to slip away and rejoin Phoebe and Kaixo, when a sudden gust of wind slammed into her.
She hit the ground hard, coughing up dust, her whole body throbbing from the impact.
Behind her, a deep voice rumbled, amused. “Looks like I found a little mouse.”