The news from Enkiel was grim. He had spent the past several days traveling between his workshop and the village, always insisting on walking despite Ezekiel’s offers. When the jackal had come to his cave the night before it had been a long, disappointing conversation. The reality of Halo’s injury was far more than he imagined possible—her body was not the only thing broken. Ezekiel could recall the awful wait of his own broken ribs, but they had healed after time. What happened to her was far worse, and something he would not have wished upon any warrior. To fall in their prime without meeting death was a cruel fate.
At dawn, he had gathered Viggo from the wilds (having taken to allowing the stallion to roam as he would) and rode north. It was a trip he did not wish to take, but one that now settled within the pit of his stomach sourly. The horse under him seemed to sense this, and whinnied reassuringly as they neared the familiar building. With any luck Myrika would be up and able to take care of Viggo’s needs.
The building had become another small commune of sorts, made up of the Lykoi women and two children. He hoped they were sleeping or out; the sound of Kaena’s breathing, broken by occasional snores, carried from what he guessed was her room. Purposeful strides carried him to Halo’s door, where he hesitated only a moment before speaking. “Are you awake?”
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Thumbs were raw from claws on the rest of her fingers repeatedly rasping against the soft skin. She was truly being punished for something, but there were too many things she had done for her to determine what it could be. It was in no way fair. Monsters walked out in the woods and proved to all that there was no such thing as karma. Yet it had always seemed to chase after her so eagerly without hesitation. Soon she would soon learn what it truly meant to be insane, for each second of each minute of each fucking hour of the day lasted an eternity. She’d always known hell existed on earth. No surprise there at least.
A real horror approached now though, and she couldn’t turn her toxic gaze towards the source of the voice behind her door. She’d give much to be able to turn away from him, but Enkiel had instructed her not to move unnecessarily, and she would heed his words because they promised a swift recovery if she remained patient and still. It was extremely relative though, for time had never moved so slowly before. Nostrils flared with the pursuit of his scent, but he had yet to enter. At least he allowed her that much, though some people always entered no matter what. She had to wonder why the fuck he was here.
She had no idea what time it is, but she was awake. ”Enter,” she said, though all she wanted was to tell him to go away. There was a reason for his presence, and an additional weight of dread fell on her.
The awful cage of self was a torture that belonged to the truly sick, the truly wounded. Ezekiel had gone mad for two months, unable to move or breathe, laying in his father’s home and waiting to heal. His world had grown so small then, and he could only imagine that Halo, of all people, would despise this fate. If she had fallen in battle it would have been kinder.
Amber eyes darkened at her voice, but he opened the door and came into the room quietly. She was in a bed, bedraggled, a red bandage over her eyes. A flash of sorrow crossed his face, and when he realized she could not see it, his ears fell back further. There was no amount of words he could offer her, nothing he could do to change what had gone on. He recalled Gabriel, stoic and stern, and knew what he would say. God was cruel; sometimes he makes you live.
“Oh Halo,” he slipped, allowing the damned sorrow to enter his voice. Pity, perhaps. She wouldn’t want that, he knew, but how could he not pity her? This was a truly awful thing to see.
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Had she not been so busy wallowing some in her own self-pity, she would have wondered why she had been put in a place so close to other members. Her tantrums had been many since she had realized the exact extent of the damage that had been done to her, and no one could want to live with such a crazed, hysterical beast. These last days had been quieter. Perhaps it meant acceptance, but there was no way to her to find peace in this broken vessel. She had thrown the majority of nearby items in reach of her healthy arm anyway.
The Triarii had never paid attention to the quiet sound of his footsteps, but now they roared in her ears after the brief hum of an opening door. Ears swivelled to the sting of his voice. There were so many options—so many reactions she could choose. She had stated to oppose him, silently and subtly, since the very day he was crowned Aquila for the clan. But now there was a new sound to the masculine voice, so different to what she was accustomed to receive. It took her by surprise, but her facial expression did not stray from the monotone emptiness that echoed of her forced misery.
She said nothing, and the silence was like thunder. Ezekiel could see everything within her rebelling against him, even now, and knew she was a creature of pride. To be so wounded would kill someone of lesser will. What purpose would she serve now? She could not fight, or train others to fight. Her children were being raised by their grandmother and under the extra eyes of the healer-jackal. Symera was gone and with her absence, the rats had become cannibal. If she did not return Ezekiel would set the cats loose to kill them. It was better that way.
“May I sit?” He asked, making no move to do so without her permission. They had much to discuss and he could not bear to look down on her. At the very least, being a man who spoke through touch and through combat, he wanted to allow her to touch him if she wished. It was a fools desire, and he knew that she was as volatile as a summer storm, but the dreaded katana was out of her reach.
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Muscles tensed, involuntarily and painfully with their lack of movement over the last week. Her entire body was rebelling against her, and everything hurt. Soon, when her body became accustomed with stillness, paranoia would rise tall and terrible. Not yet, though she did ponder about the appearance of his face. Did he smile with the knowledge that the dragon of the lands finally had been defeated after years of terror? It wouldn’t be difficult to believe that. But the smile she imagined on his lips was not attached to his voice. But he was a clever son of a bitch. Always had been.
She didn’t want him to sit, but nodded into the darkness anyway. The muscles in her jaws stung with tension, but she didn’t feel the build-up of the approaching tantrum. He was the Aquila and could do whatever he pleased. Once she could have proved to be a worthy opponent of his, but that felt like forever ago, and she couldn’t compete with anyone in anything. The decreasing weight of a broken body (her appetite was history), dependent on those around her. Halo had always adored her independence, which she had always held on to even through her previous hardships. Now she didn’t even have that. Oh, these depressing thoughts..
She wanted to ask him if he was here to gloat, but didn’t want to test her voice to see if it could hold without tremble.
The golden coyote settled on the edge of her bed, giving her enough room to be comfortable. He was close enough to her hands that she could touch him, but he was cautious not to make such a move first. While he was capable of demanding anything from anyone within Inferni, he had been careful about how he went about this. Never had he asked without reason and without a force behind it. There was much he could do without showing teeth or raising his voice.
Red hands shifted and moved over one another, rubbing at the rough and cracked pads of his palms. There were various small cuts since healed over, caused by working with leather and various activities. He looked at these because he did not wish to look at her face. Blonde hair, longer than it had been last summer, tumbled around his face. “Halo…” he trailed off, thinking of how to speak. It was hard to do this; harder still because he knew it terribly unfair. “Enkiel told me that you won’t be getting better. I came to ask you to step down. I can’t risk your life again.”
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Her prison shifted slightly as the Ezekiel’s weight sat down on the edge of it, and there were multiple stabs of hot needles into her broken frame. But she was accustomed to pain and didn’t pay much attention. Oversized coyote ears listened to his breath, and the muffled thuds of his heart, imagined or not. She would have shifted away from him, had things been different. Her name was spoken out for the second time, and she knew what was happening, though reality wasn’t quite right without the visual stimuli that had been taken from her. How ironic it all was. She had never gained any crude battle scars despite being who she was, but now when she had finally faced a proper defeat, the damage done was overwhelming.
She waited, and was rewarded with the purpose of his visit. She hadn’t expected him to come by to wish her well in any case. Perhaps she had known this was coming even before his approach, but it didn’t make it less horrifying. Her insides turned into salt, cold liquid; unimaginable sorrow. Although her personal life had been a rollercoaster of its own, she had always had her rank and her passion for the sword to relay on. What was left to lose now, when she didn’t even have that? Fate was cruel indeed, for death was certainly much better than this. She would have kept her honour in death, but she had survived, and was going to lose everything.
He came to ask her. Should she scream at him and lash out at his figure with vicious claws and teeth? Nothing she could do to him would help in the current situation. He put it eloquently though; she’d expected him to be bolder in his request. She exhaled in a long, burdened sigh. She didn’t have any power in the clan anymore. No place and no purpose. What a pitiful way to fall from grace. ”I understand,” and she did. For once she saw no reason to oppose him. She didn’t want to understand, but there was no reason to beat around the bush.
He expected the dragon to raise its head, for her to bellow smoke and fire and scream at him. It surprised him that she instead bowed her head and accepted his request. Once before he had stripped her of rank and title, but this was no victory. He could not imagine what it would be to lose something like that twice over—and he knew that if he had lost to her that first time his life would have been forfeit.
His ears fell back even further, hidden amongst the thick golden hair that even now was streaked with sun-bleached white. What a terrible fate for someone so young to suffer. He thought of his father, and of Gabriel’s terrible accident, and a dark place in his heart ached for the man that had only ever been his father in name and in oath. Ezekiel did not feel love for anyone these days; he had not felt true love since his sister’s betrayal, and everything felt very numb and foreign to him.
So what he did next surprised even him. His right hand moved and found one of her own, clasping it gently. “I’m sorry,” was all he said, but even that felt hollow and worthless.
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Behind the cloth, dyed red like she had thought her soul to be, the small muscles around her closed eyes trembled slightly with the force that kept sightless scarlet tight shut. Part of her still expected to wake up and discover that what she was experiencing right now was just part of a long-lasting nightmare. She knew better, though. There was much to let out, but not now when in the presence of this particular male. The man she loved to hate. But she had never only held blind disgust for her leader. Her extreme views had disallowed her to accept him as her superior, and it had stuck. Now she had been forced to realize that even traitors of the blood and the clan would be more worth than her. With useless eyes and broken bones, she’d be the clan’s burden. How was she supposed to be able to live with herself?
She didn’t—she really didn’t want this to be real. Cream gloved fingers intended to reach up to cover up the slight tremble of her lower lip as the long lasted façade cracked the slightest, but remained immobile with surprise as the Aquila’s warm hand reached to clasp them. Internally, she stirred, though after a moment of perfect stillness, the woman’s own fingers responded to the simple touch, held on to the hand that she couldn’t even remember the shade of. There were so many wonderful things she’d taken for granted. She had been ridiculously oblivious.
He sounded sincere, and she didn’t have the energy to distrust him at the moment. There were too many things happening all at once, and although it was Ezekiel that sat by her side, he was one more than none. She had always been alone, but not in this way. The pressure of her latte fingers increased against his, with the slightest of trembles. Her world was fucked up beyond anything she had imagined. Again. ”I’m sorry,” she repeated, bitter and stiff with the weight of inescapable defeat. If she looked at it from a less opinionated perspective, this was all her fault. Perhaps things would be better for the clan now once the Aquila could choose a Triarii he actually could trust and properly interact with. She had failed him, and it wasn’t until now she seemed to be able to take a good, long look at the errors of her ruthless ways. A week with blindness hadn’t changed who she was, but days went by slowly and gave much and more room for thoughts, and there were a lot of them.
