A breeze flows across the battlefield as I turn my back onto the corpse. A fire in my bones wishes I could watch his worthless corpse burn.
22 | Fractured
❝It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over.❞
Hunter's dead eyes gaze up at the sky, black seeping into the flesh crevices of his eye sockets. His cheeks have ceased to hold a single pigment, lifeless and stone cold. Snow has begun to fall, settling on his flesh as though it were part of the landscape. Silver tresses waver in the breeze as I stagger to my knees beside Azra. The boy's eyelids refuse to close, still defying nature as he falls into darkness.
I can't find it within myself to feel sorry. Instead, I wrap my arms around my knees as I bring them into my chest. The mud soaks through my leggings in less than one second, but the burning cold doesn't make me shiver like it normally would. Instead, I feel numb, like I'm unable to feel anything. I don't think I want to.
I bury my head in my knees, rocking back and forwards as the tears drip steadily from my eyes. I thought the action would soothe me, but it does nothing.
"Aura," a voice snaps me out of my temporary daze. A hand falls on my shoulder. I can't help but flinch away.
I press my face further into my legs in a bid to hide my ruined composure. Damien didn't need to see me like this. It would shatter him more than he already was.
"Aurora, you did it," He whispers. I feel his breath tickle my ear, his warmth enveloping me even though he's still too far away to feel completely safe. This time I allow him to snake a strong arm around my body, relief flushing into my bones. "You did it. We won."
Those words sound so good to my ears. After Hunter had constantly undermined my hope, chanting that he would win, nothing made my heart lift more. We had saved the kingdom, even if not all of us had made it.
My fingers itch to touch Damien's skin. To be with him. I want to run a hand through his soft strands of dirty blonde hair, just to make sure that he's real. To ensure that I am still alive and breathing.
I shift my body, thrusting my arms tightly around Damien's broad chest before he can relax. For a second, his body tenses under my grip. He's unaware of the horrors that I've just witnessed, but I'm sure that he has spotted the two other casualties only meters away from my figure. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. Then his arms fasten around me, pressing my ribcage into my chest, but the pain does not ignite in my cells.
"Azra," I let out a choked sob, pushing myself away from my mate's chest to wipe the tears from my eyes. "I couldn't save her," I continue. Another tear rolls down my reddened cheek. "I couldn't save them."
Damien places both of his palms on my shoulders, prying me from the security of his body. I abruptly begin to shiver, deprived of his warmth. He places a firm kiss on my forehead.
Then he stills. I eye him curiously, but my attention has shortened and I soon find myself with my hands in the glacial snow. "Aurora?" He enquires slowly. I nod as a response, eyes flickering to his own. My mouth opens temporarily, but all that comes out is a belated gasp. "They're still alive," he states, staggering to his feet as quickly as his wounded body will allow. "Listen."
Furrowing my eyebrows, I concentrate my hearing. My eyes screw tightly shut, my eyeballs aching in the bid to pick up the faint flutter of a heartbeat. One second ticks by; nothing. Then another. And that's when I hear it: the steady thump of a heartbeat - a lifeline. I zone into the noise, picking up the racing pulse as my eyes are forced open in shock.
I can't move. How had the wolf's bane not killed them already?
It takes Damien's soothing touch to snap me into action. I wave a hand at the two women. "Quick, take Azra," I instruct, much more bluntly than I had first anticipated. "I'll get Harper."
We both stagger to our feet in sync, and I swiftly pick up Harper's body in my trembling arms. Despite my lack of physical strength, I refuse to drop her.
I follow Damien as he heads through the castle doors, the cobblestone corridors swallowing us home as Harper bumps at every footfall. The shudders send jolts through my bones, but I don't allow my arms to give way. She felt much too light; as though I could snap her in half.
Damien pushes aside another set of double doors, opening up to the large hall I was dragged through when I first met the late King. It was empty before, exempt for a lone pair of guards standing out against the grey background in bright scarlet uniform like sore thumbs. Now the grand hall is bustling, words roaring through my ears without consent. Injured lie scattered across the floor, other able bodied people dashing around and tending to their wounds. The number of wounded is small, but I am certain that it will grow. The war has barely just ended, and it would take hours to get in all of the injured to be treated.
"Hey!" Damien shouts as he saunters over to a raised table in the corner of the room, not even caring to place a sheet under Azra's body as she groans in protest. I continue to cradle Harper in my arms, finally spotting an empty area on the floor. I grab a strewn blanket and kick it into place before gently resting her onto the soft material. Her eyes are firmly shut. If I were human, I would've pronounced her dead.
Everyone passing the King barely give him a glance. His knuckles clench in frustration, and I yearn to reach out and comfort him. But I couldn't do that when I was breaking down inside, collapsing onto an already existent pile of rubble.
"Aurora?" A voice echoes from behind me, and I turn cautiously to see where the voice is coming from. The tears in my eyes distort her otherwise beautiful face, but I can tell it from anywhere. "What the hell happened?" Alex enquires, marching towards me as I stand up from beside Harper's crippled figure.
Alex suddenly takes a sharp breath as she spots Harper nestled in the white blanket on the ground.
"Harper," she whispers. Her voice cracks. "What happened?" The woman demands as she settles into a crouching position.
"She-" I don't know what to say: she stabbed Hunter in the back - literally - to save me because I can't even freaking fight, and now she's going to die because of it? Instead I whisper, "She saved my life."
Alex grabs Harper up into her arms, Iris nowhere in sight. She brushes the girls dark tresses from her eyes, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. "Why isn't she healing?" Alex mutters, the girl still clenched between her hands. It looks like she'll never let go.
I tentatively point to the cut on Harper's face. Red blood drips across her face in an endearing smear. My index finger wobbles as I do so, shaking so intensely I can't stop. "She was cut with the wolf's bane sword," I state. The look on Alex's face makes my stomach drop, roiling with butterflies. "I'm so sorry."
Alex's eyelashes flutter towards my face, inked with invisible tears. She presses a warm arm against my forearm, squeezing. "It's not your fault," she states. I almost throw up over her. How was it not my fault? A guilty look passes across my face, and I turn away, only to glance up at Azra, much to my dismay. I know Alex notes my action like she's been closely studying me for years. Her fingers grow lighter on the skin of my arm, leaving white fingerprints where she applied the pressure.
"Go help your friend," Alex states as calmly as she can. I know just how hard she's trying to stop her voice from shaking irrationally. "She needs you."
I nod, biting my wrist in an abnormal action to prevent more salty water rolling from my eyes. I'm back standing on my unsupportive legs faster than I even though possible, treading carefully between corpses and the injured. Some appear to be healing, gradually moving in torn garments of blood and dirt. But the condition of the others is worsening by the second. The fetor of death hangs heavy in the air.
I find Azra's raised deathbed a few meters, although my crowd-weaving takes me a minute to reach the wooden bench. Her skin is deadly pastel compared to the ancient wood, matte as it absorbs the light of the torches hanging around us. A trail of black blood runs from the corner of her left eye, down the side of her cheek like a scar. Her fingers lie slack at he
r sides, chest rising and falling, slower with every beat of her heart. The flesh is smothered with a concoction of crimson and coal dust.
I shake her softly as Damien presses both his palms into his forehead, blatantly frustrated that everyone else is too busy to give him a glance. The girl groans as a response, her pale pink lips parting as the noise escapes her mouth.
"Azra?" I enquire, pushing greasy strands of hair from her forehead and out of her face. The strands are entwined with sweat, the substance beading her skin as she battles the wolf's bane. Her eyes flicker open, azure infiltrating my line of sight. I shiver as her boiling skin makes contact with mine, latching her fingers around mine. The grip is almost too strong to bear, but I can't let go for her sake.
"Hey," I whisper, bending my knees so that I'm hovering closer to her face, eyes level with the wooden ledge. She appears comfortable with the gesture.
Azra's lips curl into the beautiful smile I had grown to adore. Josh's best friend, my best friend, was inevitably dying. My hearts sinks, knowing that there is nothing I can do to save her.
"Hey," she whispers back, the words practically inaudible. Her eyes rotate in their sockets, gazing up momentarily at the ceiling, then fastening a glare on Damien. It doesn't take a genius to work out who she's looking for.
She doesn't have the energy to move. The most she can manage to do is contract her bicep, resting a hand over the open wound on her chest. She was lucky; the sword missed her heart by a few inches, but the close proximity meant that the wolf's bane would reach the major organ efficiently, and when the bane poisoned her heart, there was no going back.
The woman's eyebrows furrow. "Where's Josh?"
The boy in question is nowhere to be seen, but it's near impossible to identify anyone through the ever growing swarm of people. My muscles clench as an ear-splitting scream reverberates off the walls of the hall, splitting apart my eardrums as though they are nothing more than paper. And all I can smell is death. All I can see is death. All I can hear is death.
Death. Death. Death.
With a gaping mouth and watering eyes, I find my eyes trailing Azra's body. Death screams at me from every nook and cranny of her dying figure.
No, I scream inside my brain, the words empty. She will not die.
"I-" I stammer. "I don't know."
Her grip encircles my fingers even more tightly. Another black tear rushes across her face. Another incurable scar.
My eyes wander up to Damien, a hand still riddled in his hair. He appears more stressed than he had beforehand - he can feel the ache in my chest as prominently as I can.
Abruptly, Azra leans over the side of the bench. Her whole chest heaves as a plume of black blood emanates from her mouth, spilling onto the floor as she coughs restlessly. The liquid splatters onto my leggings, hot, but I don't blink. I can't move.
"Damien!" I yell, unable to do anything but stare uselessly at the girl before me. I was not a medical expert - I had only just recently learnt how to tie an effective tourniquet. My knowledge stopped at the sheer mention of wolf's bane.
My mate turns around in a sudden panic, beckoning those nearest to him for help. When no one replies to his direct pleas, he resorts to raising his voice above the crowd.
"Help!" Damien's deep voice growls, but despite the power he is putting into the yell, it doesn't travel further than ten meters. All he gains is a few pairs of eyes glaring at him before returning to tend the wounded. "Someone, please!" This time his words are quieter; hopeless.
Damien's status as King doesn't aid him in this situation. He had told me once that he didn't want to worshipped as a ruler, just treated as fairly as the other citizens of Arla. It looks like he finally got what he wanted.
Unable to attract the attention of anyone willing to help, I find myself reaching for the bottom of Azra's shirt. Taking a second to gulp and push away the tears, Azra nods at me. I pull up the fabric to reveal a deep crevice of coal stained blood, trailing down her waist and dripping endlessly onto the floor. Her hand falls back over the skin, sinking into the darkness with a disturbing ease.
"No," I mutter, my movements jerky. I don't know what to do. "No, this should've healed."
Azra smiles at me sympathetically. Her bloodied fingers run along my grey top, automatically grabbing my attention. "Aurora," she sighs, blood pulsing from her wound like an endless tide. "It's ok," she continues, before doing the same gesture with her hand which she had done to me with Damien. His cobalt eyes dart around in confusion. "Don't, Damien. My time is up."
"Hey," I state, my voice bitter. I bite my tongue to avoid more spilling out afterwards. "Don't you dare say that."
Azra's body is still. She barely has enough energy to breathe. "Please, Aurora," she whispers. "Don't make this harder than it already is." Even from where I'm standing, her azure irises appear dilapidated - more of a teal shade - than their usual bright hue.
My hands visibly shake. Somewhere deep within the pit of my thoughts, I know her fate. But I don't allow myself to see it. She will live, no matter what.
"Damien," I raise my voice. My thumb subconsciously rubs against Azra's smooth skin as I do so, and if my touch is keeping her soul trapped within her body. I don't want to admit it, but I'm afraid of letting go. "Go find Josh," I order. An image of Josh face down in the snow, blood belching from a wound in his chest creeps into my sight. If I had any energy, I would've screamed out in mental agony at the torment. For all any of us could know, he could be dead.
Damien holds eye contact, an invisible thread between us sparking like a strike of lightning. He knows how much this simple action will mean to me and Azra, and breaks away from the bench. I watch as his head merges into the swell of people, more and more flocking into the room by the second. The huge hall now feels tiny, the walls ever closing in as I struggle to stand upright.
Death. Death. Death.
I'm back crouching next to Azra's face in a blink. She's rolled over onto her side, using the last of her energy to face me. I try my best to hold my concentration, but my breaking heart wants me to shut down. To wake up, as if the whole war - everything, including Josh, including Damien - had been a dream. A blip. Nothing.
Except I don't wake up. When I come back to reality, Noah is dead, my parents are long gone, Josh is missing, Damien is mentally scarred, and my other best friend is dying in my arms.
"Aurora," Azra speaks softly, the words trembling on her lips. The black surrounding her eyes like a makeup disaster is hard to ignore, but I try my best to concentrate on the cobalt of her irises. Her grip against my palm is immeasurably strong. "I'm sorry about everything I said."
I crease my eyebrows, taken over by a strange combination of fear and sorrow. "What do you mean?"
"When I said I didn't want you as a friend. That Josh was too good for you," She murmurs. The memory hits me like a train. I couldn't afford to think about Azra pressing me up against a wall in her final moments. "The truth is, my life has been so much better with you in it. I know what I said was wrong. It wasn't true.
"I need you to know that," she continues.
I squeeze her hand back. "I-" I start, but my trembling lips can't even form words.
"Don't leave us," I manage to whisper, the words painfully scraping against my vocal chords. "Don't leave Josh."
Azra stares at the ceiling, as though she can see something I can't. "I don't want to," she murmurs, pain blatant in her voice. I wish my touch could heal her, but I can't even take away her pain.
Wolf's bane - derived from the wolfsbane flower - was a strong poison. Werewolves were notoriously known not to get drunk, however small doses of wolf's bane acted like alcohol would for a human for werewolves. If the dose was too strong, the consumer would be shown vivid hallucinations, conjured from the deepest depths of their mind. But that was only possible was with weak wolf's bane. The variety we had used, sourced from a locked cupboard in Logan's storeroom, was the deadliest species. Even a drop could render a werewolf dead within m
inutes. Perhaps seconds, if they were lucky.
THE ROGUE WOLF Page 29