The second the strange woman disappears with Arthur and the others, Visha lets whatever enchantment she put over me go. I couldn't move more than the direction of my eyes. No matter how hard I tried to get their attention and warn them that it wasn't Clarice standing in front of them, my hands wouldn't move, my breathing wouldn't quicken, and my mouth was sealed shut. With it off now, I gulp down the air and fall to my knees, a headache blooming on the sides of my head.
"That fucking whore and her slut ass sisters piss me the fuck off with their, 'we are the chosen ones' bullshit," Visha yells. I look up to find her walking in the pool of blood and kicking the corpses. The hem of her skirt is soaked and splattered with ruby red, and the stench is beginning to make my stomach clench.
"Enjoy your meal," she mimics in a high-pitched voice. "Fuck, I'm hungry!"
She starts lashing out at the corpses with her long nails, splattering blood and organs everywhere. I want to look away at the unhinged violence, but I can't. I have never seen someone so full of hatred and anger, and I've never seen so many dismembered bodies and exposed organs.
Before I can spill my own guts, Arkyn and The Eternal appear back on the dais, both looking like they walked through the fire with soot on their skin and sweat on their brows. They don't look happy, and their expressions deepen as they take in the room.
"Visha," the Eternal says in an all too calm tone. She stands up straight and turns around with blood all over her face and dress. She walks towards him, kicking another corpse as she passes. "Well?"
A low vibration comes from her throat, almost sounding like a growl - but it couldn't be a growl. Or maybe it could be. At this point, I don't put much past these psychos. "Rohana and her cunts are back, and they're more aggravating than ever."
"And you let them all get away?"
"Considering you're just as empty-handed, I'd say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Dear Gods. I expect him to hit her or – or strangle her or do something for her remark, but he just stands there straight-faced. She takes note of it too and uncrosses her arms. "She was there, wasn't she."
He doesn't answer, but that seems to be answer enough for all of them. Arkyn turns then, finally taking notice of my presence. "What is she doing here?"
"We brought her here, dumbass," Visha seethes. She turns, kicking one of the dead men's heads. The force of her kick has the neck snapping and the head goes flying until it hits a wall, splattering blood just about everywhere. My stomach lurches again.
"I meant what is she still doing here," he growls back with a glare. "The Ginerva come here and save everyone else, but they leave her. Why?"
I wish I knew. The woman – Rohana – looked right at me before she turned around and left, and I wish I could read minds to know what was happening. They all left, and I don't blame them necessarily for doing so, but it still would've been nice to know the thought had been considered.
"Because they forgot someone," The Eternal answers. They all share a look, and that's when I realize why Rohana looked at me.
She couldn't save me because they didn't get Clarice, and I'm the only one who can keep her alive until they can save her. I fumble to get a hold of her heartbeat, but I'm too far away. I don't know where the dungeons are, and my power is too weak to travel further than the Queen's Garden. If she ends up dead because I can't get to her, I'm using whatever strength I have left to kill Visha and Arkyn.
The first thing along with the basics that Siscilla taught me when I became a healer, was how to stop a heart. It's taxing, especially with little power left, but I could care less so long as they suffer.
"Take her to the healer's tower," The Eternal orders. He turns to me next and my whole body freezes up instinctively, my eyes falling to the floor. "Grab what you need to keep her alive. They'll be back for her, and I want them to watch." With that he walks away, leaving the three of us in an awkward silence.
"Let's go. You're not going to wanna watch this," Arkyn says, gesturing to where Visha is looking at the corpses again, her nostrils flaring.
"It wouldn't be as bad as what I've already witnessed." He raises an eyebrow in question and I don't blame him. It's a terrible lie, but at least there's some truth in it. I wouldn't be as disgusted and bothered as I would've been two months ago, even if my stomach still feels like it's on a ship that's in the middle of a storm.
I sloppily stand up, my legs still shaky but holding better than they used to before Kallisté started feeding me. I'm doing better, and I'm stronger, it's just that all my energy is being put into my healing power, which then forces my body to act like any other, and two-month malnourishment and starvation don't just disappear in a few days of eating a little more every day.
We start walking, taking the side door that'll lead us to the garden, and then to the hall that will take us to my old small piece of heaven.
I catch him glancing at me several times before he finally speaks. "Can you make it to the healer's tower?"
"If you're worried about me slowing you down, then why don't just zap us to the tower?" I retort tiredly. Not even halfway there and I feel like I just ran ten miles.
"Zap?"
"Yeah. You know that thing you guys do when you disappear from one room and appear in another? Zap?"
His eyes flicker with amusement that lifts the corner of his lips. "It's called misting, and I don't have the ability to do that. Only a select few can."
"Misting?" I suppose it makes sense, considering that there was a trail of mist left where they were standing when they do it. "Were Eleanor and Charles able to mist?"
"They can, but it takes more energy for them to do so."
"Could," I correct.
"What?"
"They could do it. Didn't you see their corpses in the throne room?"
"Keep talking and you'll run out of breath before we even make it to the halls." I glare at him, knowing that he's sidestepping my entailment as well as being right once again. I'm breathing heavily and we're just now walking into the garden.
I got rid of my shoes yesterday. They were holding in more cold than warmth, which made my feet go numb and turn blue and purple when I didn't tuck them into my dress. The worn fabric did little to warm them, but it was better than the shoes. My feet haven't grown for years, so I've only ever had one pair. They worked perfectly fine when I kept them clean, but now they've got holes and their fabric is worn thin. It's been odd walking barefoot, but I don't regret a single bit of it as my feet touch the grass and soil beneath. The grass may be dead from lack of maintenance, and the soil may be wet and cold from rain, but I haven't been outside in months.
There's a chilling sting to the smokey wind, and the sun's barely poking out of the clouds, but I still take in whatever warmth of its rays touches me. I could care less that I'm wearing nothing but a thin dress, that there's nothing but skin and some muscle keeping my bones from the winter bite, just as long as I'm not in that cursed cell. I'll take this chill over any other.
Kallisté is waiting in the hall on her stomach, another wolf at her side who gives Arkyn a quick growl and show of his teeth when he tries to grab my arm to stop me from approaching them. He backs off but gives me a pointed look that I ignore.
"You wanted to get there faster," I tell him, taking Kallisté's offer and sitting on her back. She stands, and then starts walking down the hall, the other wolf standing between the two of us. "How does it feel to be short?"
He glares again, and I can't help but smile. It's rare that I get to pick on any of them without running the risk of being slapped, punched, cut, or broken. With Kallisté here, I let myself enjoy the moment. I'm out of the cell, walking almost freely, and I'll soon have enough supplies to hopefully save me and Clarice. Along with making me promise not to show anyone the pendant she gave to me, Gabe told me not to call her Waterlily anymore. Calling her that made them all uncomfortable, seeing as Darius used to call her Waterlily. When I told him that I didn't really have another name for her, he said just to use that one.
I never called her that before because Arkyn and everyone else called her that, but it's the only other name Gabe said wouldn't make him or anyone else fall into bad emotions and memories they didn't need running around their minds, especially with their big rescue needing to be their main focus.
So much for that.
I was supposed to be in the tunnels to take them to her, but Visha misted into my cell and Kallisté let them take me. I still don't know why she or her alpha let all of this go to shit, but I know Kallisté. There's always a reason behind her decisions.
We reach the Healer's Tower and I nearly cry at the sight of it. Orange tinted sunlight pours into the foyer through the stained glass window, shadowing the empty beds and dusty cabinets. There's supplies all over the floor and tables thrown on their sides or moved from their original positions. It seems no one has bothered to clean up since the Elysian Ball.
"Second floor, Kallisté," I direct her.
She takes the stairs up to the level where we usually keep patients who would be here more long term. Most of the healing tonics and elixirs are here, the emergency ones downstairs. For Clarice, we'll need stronger doses that won't make her sick, and I'll only find those here. She walks to the end of the hall per my request, then lays down so I can slide off and walk to the small closet door at the end. I open it and find it all still stocked with jars stacked floor to ceiling on one side, and vials on the other.
I go to the third shelf of the vials, and look for the vial rack labeled 'sleeping elixir.' Then I walk over to the jars and start taking a few with plants and roots that I'll have to chew to keep my energy up. The medicine starts piling up in my arms, but I still need a few more vials for Clarice before we leave. The other wolf pokes his head in, a basket hanging from his mouth. I drop the glass in carefully, then add more vials, and swallow one wincing at the taste of metallic grapes and dirt.
"What did you just drink." I look out the door, finding Arykn leaning over the wolf so he can see me. Fucking snoop.
"A tonic that will fix this headache your wife gave me."
"Wife?" His face scrunches into pure disgust. "Visha's not really my wife. I'd rather marry a bore than her."
"How romantic." I motion for him to move, but the wolf doesn't give him a chance and kicks him away with his hind leg. There's a crash, followed by an audible wince and curse. My power tells me to help him, but my head says he deserves it.
The latter wins in the end, and I jump – or rather fall – onto Kallisté's back. He stands up, brushing himself off and giving the wolf a vulgar gesture.
"Can we go now? Or do you need me to fix that cut on your arm first?" I ask him.
His scowl doesn't falter once. "I'm fine."
"Tell that to the blood quickly staining your shirt." He looks down at his arm, his thick leather black jacket hiding the injury beneath. He gives me a questionable look, but I just tap Kallisté's back and she walks back down the hall.
Everyone here may be a monster, but I'm not one of them. I swore on my life that I would offer my help to those who needed it. Grave injury or minor. I plan on sticking to that vow, even if it means helping out someone who only causes pain. I couldn't save the lives of Eleanor or Charles due to Visha's phantom hold, but I would've if I had the chance. Sure, I would've accidentally let an infection take root in their wounds that would have them bedridden for a good long time, but I would've helped. You can call me whatever you want, I won't be anything other than who I am, even if I do find myself sometimes questioning that too.
The wolves still line the dungeon stairs and halls, but they let us pass into Clarice's cell. The golden-eyed alpha, Víđarr, raises his head as we enter, but makes no move to depart from her side. She's laying on her left side again, but instead of being entirely on the ground, she's curled up against him. Her legs are pulled to her chest, her arms tucked between them, and her hair cut to her clavicle – Arkyn made me cut it again on our last session – falling in front of her face. Kallisté lets me down, the other wolf following me inside and setting down the basket next to me as I sit in front of her.
"Clarice," I whisper softly. She doesn't answer so I reach out to touch her shoulder. Her hand catches my wrist with lightning quick speed before I can and I jump. Her eyes fly open next. The sight has my body freezing in fear.
They're two different colors - her eyes - one blue and one green, and then they're gone within a blink and return to her usual shade of amber as if it never happened. She moves again before I can open my mouth, but this time it's to turn away and release her stomach contents. I quickly grab her hair and use my other hand to fish around in the basket until I find the vial I need.
"Here, drink this." She turns her head away when I try to lift it glass to her lips. "If you don't take it, you'll start to throw up blood. Don't you want to live past tomorrow?"
She stares at the vial I still have held out towards her, and I take the moment to scan her. No broken bones, a few bruises, no sign of weight gain nor loss, hollowed face, but brighter eyes then before. I don't believe anyone would notice the change in her iris, but just in case, I'll have to give her the sleeping tonic after all.
She reaches for the vial, then stops suddenly and shrinks back into Víđarr. He doesn't react, but I do, holding out my hand to tell Arkyn to stop walking towards us. He does, though him settling further into the shadows isn't really helping either. Fucking creep. The third wolf who I've decided to call Kit lays down between where he stands and we sit. Turning back to Clarice, I find the vial in my hand is now empty. I look down to make sure that I didn't spill it, finding the ground dry, save for the small putrid-smelling puddle.
There's the sound of glass clicking against each other and I whirl only to find her picking up the jars and vials. She piles a few in her arms, then one by one she starts lining them up in front of Víđarr. When she's done, he lowers his head and touches a few of them with his nose. She picks the ones he chose up – the ones I determine as a pain reliever, muscle relaxer, vitamin boosts, and a jar of clarendale berries that help improve heart function and the immune system – and sets them in her lap. The others she puts back in the basket and slides it over to me. Not sure how he knew what was inside the glasses, but at least she's taking the ones she needs, even if a sleeping elixir isn't one of them.
"What's in those?" I watch her for a moment, ignoring Arkyn's question to see how she reacts to his voice. She doesn't flinch or shy away this time, but Víđarr does curl his body further around her.
"Everything she'll need to stay alive," I answer quietly, not wanting to risk spooking her.
"And what does she need to stay alive?"
"Aside from a miracle? I'd say just about everything," I snap, giving him a hateful glare.
"Then why didn't you grab everything?" he retorts. I squint at him, sure that the panic I heard in his voice was just a trick of my imagination. He's made it perfectly clear that he couldn't give a lesser shit.
"Because I don't have the power to. She needs food she can't have more than a bite of or else she does that." I gesture to the vomit puddle. "She needs sunlight and fresh air that you won't let her have, and she needs to be warmed – and not by you or anyone else who thinks they own her. You don't own her, and you don't have the heart to care, so don't stand there and act as if you actually – for even a second – care for her wellbeing. You only care for the power she has, and that's what makes you just as bad Visha. You may not drink blood, but you do swallow down pain and misery like it's the sweetest nectar. Now before the wolves decide that need a new chew toy, I'd suggest you go run back to your girlfriend and father, and all feast on the proof that you're not unstoppable that's growing cold in the throne room with every passing minute."
His eyes are practically inflamed, but so is my anger. He acts like he really does desire that she lives, but his actions these past months are clear proof that he likes the sound of horror rather than laughter.
Kallisté and Kit stand up in front of him, Víđarr standing as well, though he places himself in between me and Clarice. As I said before, I'm a little braver with them around. Maybe it's the bond Kallisté and I made, but I feel a deep connection to them that I can't explain. I only know that they won't let me go or do anything alone, and that's more kindness than anyone but a few have shown me.
He pushes off of the wall he's been leaning on, and then with a warning gaze, he turns and walks out of the room. I wait until the wolves lay back down before letting out the breath I had been holding. Clarice takes my hand, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from focusing on the chill of her skin, its frailness, loss of strength, and pale color.
"Please don't go."
My eyes meet bloodshot vacant ones. Her voice could crack the world if it could hear her.
I smile at her, placing my other hand over hers and sending my power along every part of her body to ease her pain and heal the last of the wounds. It makes my head dizzy, but I don't mind. "I'm not leaving your side for as long as I live."
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