by Ymir A Lethe
“Bullshit.” Blossom gasped. “I—”
“You, the protector. The guard dog of the flock, from the other wolves.” Fire-Eyes smiled and pushed his head onto the marble.
The red light faded to black and the pair stood in a room lit only by starlight.
“Milla, can you hear me?” Blossom called out.
Fire-Eyes pulled the trigger. The shot echoed and someone outside shouted.
Milla stepped back, watching the blood from Blossom’s head pool over the marble floor and down the steps. She darted her gaze down to the gun. Fire-Eyes clicked the safety off, and Milla clicked it back on and pointed it underneath her chin. Fire-Eyes thrashed her head. Then Milla held it still. She breathed in, smiled, and thought of Eratta waiting for her. With one chamber, she could kill two of the most powerful lycanthropes to ever live. Her little sister would inherit the estate and could get away from their father.
Yes, this was the answer to all her prayers.
Bang!
Epilogue
Widowed
It was a biting cold night and Nathaniel was sitting on a rock beside two graves, on the edge of the Bronzeglade. Errata was blood and soul of this land, and was buried beside Milla—a woman he’d truly loved. Nathaniel could tell in the way Errata talked, the way he smiled. She was a good woman. A strong person.
“You two didn’t deserve this world.” Nathaniel sighed and looked at Milla’s grave. “Even you. I’ve forgiven you, you know. You probably died with some guilt in your heart, knowing what you’d done. That you kept it secret from me. But I saw it in your eyes. Eratta tried to keep secrets from me once, too.”
An orange bird fluttered from the bare branches, above Nathaniel’s head. It landed on a tree stump a few feet from him and chirped to the moon.
“Not your time to be awake, little thing.” Nathaniel smiled. “Got to sleep.”
The chirping bird flew back into the darkness of the trees.
“You were so good to me, Eratta.” He shook his head. “You… you saved my life three times. You paid for me to live. Hardly worked me. Brought me to a land I loved. You didn’t care about my past. Oh, if only the others knew they have a Frenchman in their midst. I suppose you understood, being a Dane and all. You let me bring my mother and had her nursed to health. And that’s why I can forgive you, Milla. Because through it all, through your rage, you did it because you cared about the people around you. You hated our society because you thought it hurt us, and maybe you were right. I hope the two of you are happy up there. Hope you’re together.” Nathaniel stood and brushed the tears from his eyes.
He stopped. The wind whispered something in his ear and he turned to it. A sound through the trees, past the barren bark, across the glistening roots and rocks, beyond the darkness. He heard it again, louder this time.
Nathaniel smiled and sat back down. His mind loved playing tricks these days.
About the Author
Ymir A. Lethe is a student who has been writing stories since the age of nine. They grew up reading the likes of Tolkien and Gemmell, but found much of their true inspiration in old stories such as Greek mythology, Irish folk tales, and urban legends.
They also love music—Gorillaz, Marilyn Manson, Imagine Dragons, Nirvana. If it’s a band with four members or less, Ymir probably loves it.