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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐌, 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅, barging past her and pouncing onto the mother witch to rip her throat out. The other witches all cower back and stop their chanting, startled by Ronyn's violent interruption. A fraction of her wants him to succeed, but there must be a reason the witches are tampering with Morrow's corpse, even if his soul has been extinguished.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sybil flicks her wrist while muttering an incantation, freezing Ronyn before he can make a strike. "That's not how you should greet your guests," she exclaims, her hollow eyes alight underneath her veil. "Any commoner should know it takes a lot to get me away from my haven. My presence should be welcomed, shouldn't it be?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen runs to Ronyn's side, scratching behind his wolfish ears to calm him down. The growls erupting from him are just as murderous as they are thunderous, demanding that the scum inhabiting Morrow's bedroom needs to be removed. "Then maybe you should return there where you belong."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oh, what a greeting," she mutters. "I'm only fulfilling my end of the bargain, and then the alpha is yours."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The magic beneath Elowen's skin fumes, aching to expel so she can rid Tabrien of the witches' filth. Sybil is not welcome, and never will be, but it's clear she and her witches hold the power to summon themselves to Morrow's side.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What bargain?" she retorts. "You refused to give Morrow an extra slate of lives. He's dead."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I didn't refuse. He just didn't agree to my demands," Sybil tilts her head, studying the woman before her. "You must be his mate, the reason he wouldn't be granted an extra life."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Guilt sinks into her heart for just a moment, but isn't that Sybil's whole ploy? She'll guilt her, shame her, then propose a request that could cure all that ache. It's a simple formula for her trickery, and Elowen won't let herself become imprisoned to it.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her white wings bristle in frustration, and it takes every fibre in her to tame her raging inner creature. "Why did you come here?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The mother witch releases a sharp sigh, her hollow gaze travelling from the were-wyng in bed to the crescent moon waning through the glass windows. "Like I said, I had to fulfill my end of a request made long ago. You may not view me with the highest regards, but I am a woman of my word."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's brows furrow into a frown as she grips into Ronyn's fur. The beta remains one sentence away from attempting another attack, but she hasn't gathered all her answers yet. When she's done, Ronyn's wolf can harbour its revenge.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"And what's that? To bury him in Scaerus? To use his corpse as a puppet?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The way you speak of me is vile," she scoffs. "I'm not interested in his corpse. It's useless to me. Since you're his mate, I'd like to think I'm doing you a favour by granting him another life."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's world stops spinning, and Ronyn's growls cease.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You're... you're bringing him back?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I am, but I can't finish with you hounding me like this."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"But why?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Only a rare type of magic can revive souls from the dead. She's not even certain ancient's magic can do so, and if it could, she'd beg Thorn to teach her so she can try. The witches have always been known for tampering with those boundaries of life and death, a mastery that causes many to seek their fortunes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sybil keeps her gaze locked on the moon. "It was sixteen years ago..."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The mother witch begins her story about a woman who wanted nothing more than to protect her son from the woes of his own father, a woman who sought to save him even if she couldn't. She vowed that Morrow's life wouldn't end too soon, that he'd see the sunrise every morning until his heart and soul had found true peace. For years, his soul would remain restless, and it still is, for his story isn't completed.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow may have given himself nine lives, using them in order to protect his pack, but it's the one Lililya gave him that will be the one that shines brighter, the one to thank for reviving the great Morrow Killian.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It will be his redemption.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Lililya agreed to my proposition. Her life to spare her son's, a life that both her and Kodan begged to be in this world. For that, she slowly began to lose her own, but she never regretted what she did for her son. That I do admire."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Did Morrow know about this?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sybil shakes her head, her violet veil shooshing against her pale skin. "If he'd known, he wouldn't want to make requests of his own, and I do enjoy a man on his knees begging for what he desires, especially when it comes to the alpha of Tabrien."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The lack of sympathy in her words almost sends Elowen into a deeper state of turmoil, but with one glance over to her mate laying beneath a sheet, it all ends.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She studies the sheet and the lack of movement beneath. "He's not breathing."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"That's because he's still dead," Sybil turns around and faces her daughters and sons, followers of her coven. "If you would be so kind to allow us to continue with our revival, that would be much obliged. Just," she flicks her wrist, "stand back, will you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen longs to have Morrow back in her arms. So does Ronyn. With one tug to his coat, Ronyn follows her backward, giving the witches the space they need to resurrect the were, but not without a disapproving growl. Perhaps she hadn't noticed before, but Ronyn's wolf does look as feeble and bones as his human form, but still not afraid to tear his fangs into flesh if it requires him to.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sybil gathers her witches and witchers into a circle around Morrow's bed with the mother witch standing at the foot. She reaches her hands out to her coven, inviting them to hold the palms of one another so they remain united.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎In the silence, the witch begins with a hum, a low minor chord pitch. "Arey na masse a leu lupe dash lunam revifeo."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen knows the words come from an ancient language only studied by the witches, one impossible to learn unless taught by a witch or witcher themself.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The witch next to Sybil chimes in, only her notes are a pitch higher. She sings the same tune. "Arey na masse a leu lupe dash lunam revifeo."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The daughter next to her does the same, a pitch higher. Then the son, an octave lower. Elowen stares in awe at the chorus growing in front of her, the chants directed at the alpha. She clenches her knuckles deeper into Ronyn's fur, trembling with longing for her mate, crossing her fingers that Lililya's life brings him back to her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sybil releases the hands of the witches adjacent to her, closing her eyes and outstretching her palms. Violet aether swirls betwixt her fingers, a glow emanating from the most forbidden of shadows. The spectacle only lasts for mere seconds, blink and she'd have missed. One moment, she was surrounded by the chorus of incantations, then comes a silence. The mother witch closes her hands, lowering them back to her sides.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sybil keeps her voice hushed. "He'll need his sleep. His body is heavily depleted from the blight, but it'll reverse in time. He has alpha's blood in him, stubborn and mightily strong, but also Lililya's blood. He always had a bit of her in him, but now so more than ever. He'll be good as new within a few sunrises."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It all seems so... simple. Could a few chants and spells possibly reverse the blight in full? The were have sought out boundless solutions, finding nothing that could save the pack from annihilation. Yet, Elowen witnessed the resurrection of her mate she thought she'd lost in death's abyss. Not only that, but Lililya's life will undo the blight from his bloodstream, meaning...

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Is he cured?" Elowen asks the obvious.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"From the blight, yes, but I wouldn't advise he catch it again."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Nothing can cure the blight," she narrows her eyes. From what she knows, the only way to eliminate the blight is to travel to Pailon and reignite the eternal flame, a flame snuffed out by a power-lust driven ancient. "Is this another one of your secrets to lure us into your trickery? So we can ask for the cure in return for a bargain?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Again, you speak of me like I'm vile," Sybil sneers. "It's a complicated matter. I can't cure the blight, but Lililya's request was one so stained in time, one before the blight ever made its roots deeper into Aelethia. Because Morrow was dead, his soul was no longer poisoned with it, just his body. It's his soul that is reviving, and with it, his body will slowly heal as well."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"So if you—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You're asking a frustrating amount of questions. Don't you want to be with your mate?" she tilts her head over to the covers. There's a steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The truth of it all lifts a weight from her shoulders. He's alive. That should be the main focus of her thoughts, shouldn't it?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sybil gestures towards the were-wyng. "Go on. Be with him. It's what that wolf in him will covet most."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen carefully trods towards the edge of the bed, sneaking her palm beneath the sheet covering her beloved. She seeks out his fingers, running her touch against his knuckles. She expects them to be cold, heatless since the minute he died. Instead, they're warm, welcoming. Her fingers tighten between his own.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She closes her eyes as a deep soothing growl rumbles down her bond. The wolf inside of Morrow awakens, nudging against Elowen's creature as an attempt to come and play. She can't stop the giggle that comes from her, radiance of joy escaping when everything inside of her felt so bleak. Somehow, he's alive, and he'll soon be back to the Morrow she knows best, the grumpy dominant alpha that cares so greatly for his province.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Beside her, the bed sinks beneath the weight of Ronyn's wolf. He nuzzles into her shoulder, growling, all while his tail wags a mile a minute. He goes to sniff Morrow after, sensing new blood flowing in through his veins.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen opens her eyes and spins to thank Sybil for keeping to her word, for fulfilling Lililya's last promise to her son. Only, they're gone, vanished to the crypts of Scaerus. The only sign of their exit is the warm breeze suddenly carrying through the once chilled chamber.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎All that matters now is that Morrow is alpha again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She refuses to let this life go to waste, for it's this new life that grants him a chance at tranquillity. In order to do that, she can't sit here in the palace when there's a newfound magic flowing beneath her skin. She's no longer the weak wyng that fell so helpless into the hands of the were. She's a force to be reckoned with, a powerful entity that can wreak havoc across the lands, and she knows exactly where to go. The answer to end this all lies in Pailon.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And she holds the key to enter in.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎By now, Ronyn's wolf curls up on Morrow's lap, his hazel eyes closed as he falls asleep against his best friend, and she knows she can't coax him away. Ronyn will be his guard in case anyone else decides to pay a visit, because no enemy will ever point their daggers at the alpha's heart again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎With a scratch behind Morrow's ear, she cosies up against his side and begins to formulate a plan to eliminate the blight for good. She just got him back, and he deserves this world and more, but he'll forever be in a battle he can't win. Not without her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Until morning comes, she'll savour every new moment with him, until together, they can eliminate the blight for the rest of their sunrises.

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*

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 on her mate's mark.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's featherlight, a tease of canines aching to break the skin. A growl of delight follows, then a low coercing purr for her to sink back into the blanket of black feathers around her. Fingertips trail up her breastbone—a pinkish tan tint instead of cracked darkness—then trail to where his kiss once lingered.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's eyes flutter open, and she's met with the most decadent view of meadowed hues and a shy smile framing his sharp angelic features.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Good morning, sparrow," his low voice purrs. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She reaches up, taking hold of his shoulder and ropes him into her kiss. Her lips crash into his own, a hunger for an intimacy they've hardly explored, only to have their collision of love break into a boundless grin. Morrow's smiles are rare, a hidden gem that comes hard to find. She'll forever savour this image of him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her hand instinctively finds the back of his ears, scratching him so she can hear that pleasured growl come from him. It rumbles from the depths of him, his meadowed eyes glowing as his wolf and wyng align.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She doesn't know what words she should say, and yet, a sheepish "hello" seems to be all she can muster.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He growls in response, combing a stray lock of maroon hair behind her pointed ear. The sound alone draws her to him like a lost ship to a lighthouse.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Under his breath, she hears his reverent confession. "Mine."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen sets her palm upon his bare chest, pushing him back down against his mattress so she can straddle him. Heat radiates from their bond, a throbbing that pools between her legs. Morrow struggles to find resistance as his mouth meets her vulnerable pulse. A tongue sweeps over her mark, followed by a toe-curling growl. She can't stop the instant excited allure of him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But it seems Ronyn can.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎In her attempts to board him, she halts due to the weight of a snoring wolf sleeping upon both of their legs.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow scowls, but his softer voice hardly matches his expression. "You adopted a big fucking puppy while I was gone, didn't you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen huffs. "You know he misses you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow sits back up, stretching his black wings as he studies the evidence of the beta's imprisonment on his wolf form. Like Morrow, both need time to recover their strength back.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Hells, what happened to him?" Morrow mutters under a soft exhale. "He looks worse than I do."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The terrans weren't kind to him while you were sick," Elowen admits. In her mind, all she can see is the blistering image of Ronyn chained in silver, rotting away on that muddied hut floor. Just as the image appears in her thoughts, she feels the claws of Morrow intruding, plucking the memory and playing it for himself. He lingers at the details of Ronyn—bloodied skin, scarce runes right above his beltline, the protrusion of his ribs against flesh that was once muscle. "What matters is that he's free of the silver chains and alive."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Those meadowed hues trail away when he snaps the cord between them. "He's lucky, then. It looked like he was hardly hanging on."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen nods. "I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't. First you, then him..."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"But I'm alive," Morrow tilts his head towards the golden sunlight streaming through his window. "Those damned witches brought me back to life, didn't they?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You know?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I fucking saw," Morrow leans forward towards Ronyn, scratching behind his beta's ears. In his slumber, his tail thumps against the sheets beneath him. He keeps his voice quiet, almost a whisper against canine teeth. "In their spells, Sybil showed me what happened, what my mother had done. She gave up her life because she believed that one day, mine would be better."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen ruffles her fingers through his dark feathers. "It will, with time."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Time we don't have."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Their bond crackles to life with images of the blight. He's hardly awakened, and his mind is already locked on protecting his pack from the same disease that claimed his own life. He'll once again do the unthinkable, but she knows if he faces the blight, he'll find himself dying in the same gruesome matter. What if it all ends the same? With him dying in her arms?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎This time around, she carries a new weapon that only few will ever yield: her ancient's magic.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His meadowed hues drift down to her hands as his wolf prowls her thoughts. Damn him. He's always been a thief of her inner thoughts.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Your magic?" he asks.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's awakened," she murmurs, lifting her hands to his vision. Beneath her skin, a warm hum vibrates through her veins, one that grows until a timid glow of light emanates from her touch. The light twinkles off her mate's irises in awe. "See? When you died, I knew I had to hold onto you somehow, to carry your light. It came so naturally then."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The light snuffs out when she dusts her hands into her dress. Morrow stares at her with beautiful bewilderment, as if he just witnessed the most miraculous event unfold. Those meadowed hues remain wide, wondrous, and he can't stop himself from reaching out and touching those palms himself and threading his fingers between hers.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He squeezes her hand tight. "I knew you had it in you. Always did."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She ponders about whether to propose her ludicrous idea of travelling to Pailon, but he won't be able to enter in without containing ancient's blood. In fact, it's the same journey that got him ill with the ancient disease in the first place. No, if she intends to go to Pailon, she'll have to make the journey alone while he protects Tabrien.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's something she knows he won't let happen.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow frowns, once again intruding her mind. He opens his mouth to speak, but is quickly shut up by the wolf waking up at their feet.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn lifts his wolfish head, a second hardly passing before he's leaping up onto Morrow. He knocks him back down to the cot, the weight of his wolf too great for Morrow's lack of strength.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"For fuck's sake!" Morrow grits, a laugh escaping him as he fights with the beta.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow wraps a bicep around Ronyn's neck, holding him in a headlock and blessing him with a billion scratches to his ears and head. The beta growls with ecstasy, his eyes closing as he revels in his best friends embrace.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen slips from the bed. "I should let you two be," she says with a wink. "I feel like I'm intruding you both on your very private moment. Besides, you both are probably starving."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Sparrow," he grits, not ceasing with his scratches to Ronyn. "Don't be leaving me already. I just got you back."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I won't be gone long, only a few minutes."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Sparrow—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Worry pitches his voice, and she can see through the bond that he's eager to take charge of Tabrien and alleviate her from the burdens of leadership. Yet, with all those responsibilities comes a great need to rest.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The pack is well," she whispers. "Just take a moment to forget about the blight and enjoy what you have right now. When you're ready for your throne, we'll be there to follow. We all will."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He sluggishly nods his head before rerouting his attention to his beta. Gods, she missed him, and it's clear so did Ronyn. Morrow's body endured hell after hell, and it's a miracle that Lililya's soul is enough to restore him. Until that happens, all her plans about destroying the blight and reigniting the eternal flame have to be put on a standstill.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The throne is his, and it will always belong to him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The alpha of Tabrien, the wolf that will live for eternity.

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morrow is officially awake and BACK! he'll be back to his old self in no time, and so will ronyn, but recovery is better when you do it with your bestie <3 we'll let them have their little moment while elowen retrieves breakfast, and maybe she'll announce it to the entire pack? we'll see!

also, the witches spells mean nothing. it's just a jumble of words that probably look a little latin-ish. there is no method to my madness lol.

thank you all for reading Sparrow! i am offically 3/4 of the way done, with an anticipated finish before the end of the year! AHHH. this is so exciting to me since i have so many cool things planned after this story concludes!

ivy <3

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