‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

▬▬▬▬▬

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, and it's impossible to know if she'll ever feel upright again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen stands in the alpha's corridor, a wing of the palace that's only reserved for Morrow. Only, behind his bedroom door, Morrow lies dead. Cold. Under a pale bedsheet until one of the were collect his corpse to be buried in his grave. Afterall, he's no longer living, which means the blight writhing within his blood remains as dead as he is.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The thought chills Elowen to her bones. Everything's happening so fast, a spiral she can't straighten out. A fraction of her wishes to stash herself away under the quilts of her bed and revel in the comforts of the shadows. It's what she would've done if her situation was different, but seeing Morrow there, his meadowed hues void of life, is a horror she knows that'll haunt her every sleep.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Across the hall in another spare room lies Ronyn. He's alive and under constant surveillance from were physicians and fae medics. He's still not awake, but he's improving with every passing hour. They've managed to bathe him of all the grime and bandage the silver burns. The last she heard, a hint of colour was starting to return to his gaunt cheeks.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She doesn't want to enter either of their rooms for fear she'll crumble for good, so instead, she opts to go into her own room—the one Morrow gave her upon her arrival, wanting nothing more than to be alone.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But if she's learned anything these past few days, it's that no one in Tabrien lets her have too much time by herself. Amongst the whispers, she heard the word 'unstable' used once or twice due to her burst of ancient's magic. Do the were fear that she'll burn Tabrien to the ground just like she did to the terran camp? She can't be sure, but now that her magic's awakened, she has other plans that'll certainly heighten those rumours.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She's going to rid Aelethia of the blight by travelling to Pailon. There, she'll obliterate the one that started this to ashes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her bedroom door creaks open, followed by a soft cautious voice. "Elowen?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's strange to hear her name fall from the beta's lips. Ever since Thorn revealed that he's her true blood father, a thought that still rattles Elowen's mind, it's like her name has been shouted across the mountaintops. He calls her that directly, so it's no surprise that everyone picked up on it. She'd gotten accustomed to their nicknames, so it all seems so... odd.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea's tepid footsteps wander across the room to where Elowen stands. She's been too busy drowning in the canyons of her mind to even realise how much time has passed by.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She hooks her arm into her own. "Ronyn's been stirring and muttering in his sleep. The physicians think he's going to be ready for visitors soon."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He's going to hate me for what happened," Elowen mutters under a stale breath.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Don't say that. I don't think Ronyn could ever hate you," the beta smiles. "You had him and Morrow wrapped around your finger, and I bet you're still the first he wants to see."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎No, he'll want to see Morrow, and then what?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen takes in a heavy breath. "Morrow told me everything about what he'd do to protect Ronyn, even when he..." when he forfeited a life of his own to spare Ronyn's. Elowen keeps her tongue tied on that secret and shakes her head instead. "All those promises that Morrow made to Tabrien—I want to be the one to finish them. For Morrow. For Ronyn. For anyone who's been caught in this ugly mess."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oh gods, Morrow made a lot of those to a lot of people."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen turns to meet Cordea's aqua hues. "We both know what his biggest promise was."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea gnaws on her plump lower lip. "You can't seriously be considering going to Pailon, can you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I know I can enter in. If what Thorn says is true, then there's a vile god sitting on the throne there just waiting for everyone who's not of ancient blood to rot away. I need to get rid of him, and then reignite the flame to reverse the blight's spread."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You just got your magic. This 'god' has probably had his own hint of magic for centuries now."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I also have Thorn."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea frowns. "He's a good man, means well and all, but is he the type of man that would follow you to your grave in Pailon?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Thorn admitted that he's not a fan of dying. In fact, he's alluded several times that he doesn't give a rat's ass about the well being of others, but perhaps his own scales are tipping just slightly. When it comes to Elowen, there's a shift in his demeanour. It's softer, kinder, more willing to lend a helping hand.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Afterall, she is his blood daughter.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Another knock on the door ends their conversation as Arion pokes his head in. "Am I interrupting?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Not at all," Cordea calls to her mate. "Is everything alright?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Ronyn's coming to his senses. Just thought you two might want to pay him a visit," he says before dropping his voice to a growl. "You know, one of us has to be the one to tell him about Morrow."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎About how he's dead.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea unhooks her arm from Elowen's and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "I can tell him, but he might take the news better if it comes from you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Or he'll claw me for getting his best friend killed."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's not your fault, and you know you can't blame yourself for it. How were you supposed to know that a blight-nymph would come for him?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎There's a truth in her words, but Elowen was the only one there that could protect Morrow. How? She's not certain what she would do differently, but maybe there was something that could've prevented his death.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Now, she knows how she can rid this world of the blight, knowledge that would've been proven more useful back then. She has her ancient powers to elevate her, to become her storm that will rage. Even now, that hum sings beneath her skin, ready to answer her beckoning.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎If only her beloved mate could see her now.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen straightens her posture, looking between both Cordea beside her and Arion standing in the doorway. "I can tell him. He'll want to know the details about everything." Just maybe, Ronyn will see how she could've stopped it all from unravelling, or perhaps he'll burden her with the blame.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arion raises a brow. "Are you sure?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She has to be. At the centre of this mess lies her, the wyng who somehow knotted herself into the throes of the were. Morrow's death will crush Ronyn, just like Ronyn's death once obliterated Morrow. Only, she knows Ronyn won't bring him back the same way the alpha did for his beta.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen lets her feet guide her across the corridor and into the room occupied by the donut-loving beta. So much has changed since he departed from Morrow and Elowen in the glow of the shell-shroom caves, so much so that Ronyn might be a whole new man.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Hazel irises illuminate like stars when he lifts his head from a bowl of soup. "Half-breed! Someone told me you were around here sulking. Probably missed my enjoyable presence."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A smile breaks free from Elowen's lips. "How could anyone not miss it?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn sits in the centre of the bed under a sheet, shirt missing to reveal how much muscle mass he lost. She can count the ribs in his ribcage—although most scars and welts seem to be concealed under his sleeve of tattoos. His brown hair is shaggier than she'd last recalled, laying down in his neck in thick freshly-washed cloves. To her surprise, he's also clean shaven, only a hint of stubble on his jawline. On his lap he nurses a bowl of noodles.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn cocks his head a bit, that arrogant grin taking over his face. "I've been bored out of my mind all fucking day. I kept begging the doctors to bring me someone—either you, or Arion or Cordea, or even Morrow—but they just stared at each other like I had just drank a glass of my own piss."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen scowls. "Arion just told me you woke up now."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Yeah, from a nap. I woke up earlier in the day, although I was pretty fucking groggy."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's watches Ronyn's hazel gaze travel from her white wings to the doorway as the other two beta follow in.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You two didn't tell her that I woke up this morning?" he hisses through sharp teeth.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arion rolls his eyes. "I could've, but you were in no frame of mind to be having any sort of conversation, especially not one with the luna of Tabrien. You were too high on painkillers."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Still am. I don't see how—wait, did you say luna of Tabrien?" Ronyn's grin somehow grows wider, a dash of mischief overtaking his face. "Let me see that neck of yours, half-breed."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sheepishly, Elowen combs her maroon locks away from her throat, unveiling the soon-to-be healed mark of Morrow's teeth. The gesture alone sends an agonising sting through her heart at the thought of her and Morrow, how their union will never be again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Well, I'll be damned," he says. "Never thought I'd see the day when he'd choose a partner, let alone someone that gives him enough grief as he gives us. You're good for him." His voice falters as if he wants to say more, because she knows there always has been more due to Ronyn holding Morrow's blood. "Speaking of that ray of sunshine," Ronyn scowls as he gazes back over towards the door. "Where is he?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen flicks her gaze over to Arion and Cordea, both of whom study her with dread. Neither of the three speak a word.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn's face begins to drop, his voice coming out dry and a little helpless. "Where is Morrow?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She closes her eyes. Where is Morrow? He wants to know where he is? Okay, Ronyn, here's her truth. He's laying across the hall, dead, in his bed, under a sheet, still waiting to be collected and buried in a grave meant for an alpha king. There'll be no more taunts and teases from him, no more brooding growls to echo in Tabrien's silence. There'll be no more violin that plays when twilight strikes, nor will there be his laughter spilling in the halls when he's had a glass to many of wine and liquor. Those arms will no longer bring her protection, and those cursed wings will never feel the breeze between feathers again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When Elowen opens her eyes, she can't hold back to salty tears that carve down her rosy cheeks. A sob cracks from her lips. She thought she could be strong; she knows she must be the one to tell Ronyn the truth.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎They say it's not her fault but it is.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I think I killed him," she cries.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea smothers Elowen in a tight hug. "No, that's not what happened." The beta immediately faces Ronyn. "She's not the one that did this. It was all out of our control."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Cordea," the beta growls her name cautiously. "What the hell are you talking about? Morrow can't die. The witches gave him nine lives, and he didn't waste them all."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The silence between them speaks all that it needs to, and watching Ronyn's expression shatter to a million pieces becomes as haunting as Morrow's corpse.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Blazing hazel eyes fire between Cordea and Arion. "Cordea, where is he?" No response. "Arion?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Still nothing.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Morrow can't die," Ronyn growls in disbelief. "He's not dead. He can't be dead. He's not..."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen pulls away from Cordea's embrace, meeting those fracturing eyes in a collision of gold and silver. The math doesn't add up for him when it comes to Morrow's stock of lives, only because one of those lives was given to Ronyn. Only, Ronyn doesn't remember how he took his life in his gnawing parasitic loneliness, only to be saved by the alpha with cursed black wings.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Morrow contracted the blight on our journey to Pailon," Elowen admits, her voice hardly making a sound. "He died yesterday morning. It was his last life."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Time stills.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn's cheeks somehow fall paler, and his clutch against his bowl of noodles becomes so stiff that the ceramic bowl shatters within his claws. Scalding water and noodles drip onto his bedsheets. Ronyn doesn't flinch. Doesn't budge. He just gazes upon the messenger that brought him the news of his best friend's death.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She could've done something. It's a guilt that will pain her for eternity. Now, she's trying to tell herself that she can do more in order to stop the infectious blight.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn sweeps the bedsheet off his legs and storms for the exit, his wolf growling with need for his escape with claws extended wide.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arion blocks the doorway. "You aren't leaving this room."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Just let me out of here!" Ronyn screeches.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You need to think with your head, Peres, and—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn shoves Arion to the side. Despite his weak anatomy, she knows that inner strength came from a portion of Morrow's alpha's blood running through his veins. Before Arion can think about chasing after him, he's shifted into his wolf down the corridor and sprinting away.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen runs from the room, only to be held back by both Arion and Cordea.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Someone needs to go after him," she breathes, staring at the now empty hall.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He just needs to be alone," Cordea admits. "He does this all the time when something like this happens. Him and Morrow were like brothers, and even I know Ronyn doesn't have much family in his life."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arion shakes his head. "He still shouldn't be out there when he looks like he's two steps away from his own grave."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Let's just give him some time," she insists. "If he's not back by midnight, we'll search for him. We know his scent, so he shouldn't be so hard to find."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎All Elowen wants to do is take a page from Ronyn's books and run. She's struggling to process everything in multitudes. Only yesterday, she laid next to Morrow in bed, listening to the slowing rhythm of his heartbeat. If only there was a way to bring him back to life, to give him one last chance at redeeming his pack. Well, there is, she just refuses to sink into debt with the witches of Scaerus. At least he's free of them now, ridden of all the pain they've ever caused them with their rusted knives.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen stares helplessly at the palace where Ronyn's wolf rounded the corner, saying nothing more as she turns away back into her bedroom and closing the door.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's then, she basks in dusk's shadows, indulging in dreams of the days of her mate. She can only pray that one day, she'll be able to find enough light to keep herself and the rest of Tabrien shining.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

*

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 a knocking on her door.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen pulls herself from the sheets, tiptoeing across the wooden floorboards to see who her unexpected guest is. She's far from in the mood to be talking with Cordea about the politics of her and Morrow's matehood, and even farther when it comes to facing Thorn and Arion's unimpressed expressions.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She's a little shocked to see the face that mirrors her own.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A teary-faced Ronyn stands before her, devastation occupying every inch of his being. He's redressed in a loose shirt and slacks since his shift into his wolf, but even then, she can see the rips in the stitching from running through the woodlands.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His breath hitches as a quiet sob breaks from his lips. "Tell me he's not really dead."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen can't be sure how long he's been standing outside her bedroom door, or how long he's been burdened in his sorrows, but what she does know is that her friend needs her now.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Without uttering a word, she wraps her arms around Ronyn's trembling figure, and the beta crumbles against her. His knees give way, his body pressing into the comforts of her own as his cries bury themselves in the fabric of her dress. He clings to her with white knuckles, each sob a beg for her to somehow reincarnate him again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎There's nothing she can do, no possible way she can reverse time to keep his heart beating.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎An ugly sob wretches from his lungs as Elowen's fingers scratch delicately behind the beta's ears. Her eyes sting with her own tears. "I'm sorry." She holds him tighter. "I'm so sorry..."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Hell only knows how long the two remain there, her holding him, him holding her, but what else can she do? It's not like Ronyn wanted to leave them to continue to Dreamweaver's Bluff alone, and she reckons the beta would've dropped everything to follow them to Pailon. Only, Morrow couldn't risk Ronyn's fate matching his own.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Tabrien needs Ronyn. She needs Ronyn.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But she also needs Morrow, a wish that will only come true within her dreams.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn lifts his head from her chest, his hazel eyes bloodshot. "I never got to say goodbye to him, but that's how Morrow always was. He'd always vow that he couldn't die, that he'd come back, but I didn't know that one day those would all be fucking lies."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"If you'd known, you'd never have obeyed his command." She tips the bottom of his chin. "If you weren't here in Tabrien, who knows what would've happened when the terrans arrived. You were right where Morrow wanted you to be."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I got captured and tortured for weeks," he grumbles. "Is that where he wanted me?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"No, but now you're back where you belong. He trusted you more than he trusted anyone else in Tabrien."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"And I fucked up like I always do."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm honoured to call you a beta of Tabrien, because I need you to help me guide this place," Elowen closes her eyes. "He left behind you to help me, so please..."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn rises to his feet, his body towering over her own. She wonders if Morrow's passing had any effect on the alpha's blood that courses through his veins. Will the authority of Morrow shift into him, causing Ronyn to naturally take the reins to lead the pack? A low brooding growl escapes from the back of Ronyn's throat, a call that has Elowen closing her eyes to resist. It's not the same as Morrow's, not one meant to charm and seduce, but one that calls her to be at his side.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎For a man that houses Morrow's inner strength, his voice comes out so petite. "I want to say goodbye to him. You know, before they do that whole big ceremonial shit and bury him tomorrow."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen nods. "He's still in his room, but he won't be... pretty."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"That's impossible," the beta teases, even in his sour mood.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen guides Ronyn down the dark corridor, the sudden silence between them filling the lull in conversation. She understands why Ronyn longs to bid goodbye to his friend, but the truth is, Elowen's afraid of what she'll see when she enters in. She's afraid of seeing the body of a man who's gone more than a day under a sheet, one embalmed and prepared for his burial when morning comes. The Morrow that Ronyn will witness isn't the same one that Elowen was once bonded to.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow is a corpse, a shell of a were-wyng, nothing that replicates his life and secret inner song, for he's no longer alive.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen carefully turns the door to his bedroom open, as if the creaking hinges would awaken Morrow from the dead.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She stops.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her silver hues widen at the sight in front of her, her inner creature igniting the fuse of magic from within her as energy ripples to her fingertips. Behind her, Ronyn growls in fits of fury as a claw digs into the wooden bedroom door.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What the fuck?" Elowen hisses.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow's supposed to be free of them, but when he never answered their summoning, they came to him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Surrounding Morrow's bed is a circle of witches, and at the foot of it all, violet eyes alight, is the mother witch.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

▬▬▬▬▬

hope you all like this update! i'm really bad at writing sad emotions, so i found it super tough to have ronyn and elowen wade in their feelings for a minute to process what had actually happened with morrow. but more is still happening with him if you couldn't tell!

thank you all for the kind words and comments throughout sparrow! they truly make my day!

ivy <3