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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐍, and if not Ronyn, it's either Arion or Cordea. She should be seeking out her magic and off into the Yestrean forests towards Dreamweaver's Bluff. Instead, she hides in the sanctuary of the room that once belonged to Morrow. The pain ricocheting down her matebond from Morrow nauseates her, forcing her to spend her days huddled beneath the quilts to stay warm. It's not like the alpha even attempts to shelter some of his torture, not like that first night. The blood feels so real as if it were her own, but the sensations are a mirage. He damned the bond the moment he invited her to her room, and she damned herself the moment her lips met his skin. This is the price she pays for their infinite tether.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Still, when she calls down the mind-link towards him, he always gives a response. A simple sparrow or a husky growl takes the edge off her frantic nerves.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Until this morning when it all went silent.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen curls on the bed with a book propped up in front of her eyes, sunlight basking through stained glass windows. Although the novel intrigues her, she can't help but wonder about the book she found days prior. Envoys of the Ancients. Information about Pailon is rare, so its not a surprise that Morrow confiscated the book from her. Where he put it? She's not even sure, but she doubts he took it along to Scaerus.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The door to the room opens automatically due to fae magic, letting Ronyn enter in with the biggest grin on his face. With the magic, his bruises have healed up, leaving no evidence of his quarrel with his alpha.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And of course, he has a plateful of powdered donuts.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"No one makes a donut like the fae," he beams, letting the door shut behind him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You know, there are other foods available," Elowen smirks, reaching towards the plate. "It's called the harvest moon's festival for a reason. To celebrate the harvest."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Yeah, but you have to admit that these donuts are heavenly." He takes a seat on the bed beside her. "I'd stop talking to you if you kept demanding something disgusting like asparagus."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Would you now?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Or a fucking salad," he fakes a gag, then kicks his head back.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What a shame. I happen to like salads."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He gasps sarcastically in offence. "Who are you and what have you done with my donut-addicted half-breed?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen giggles. Ronyn's been gone most of the morning with Cordea attempting to woo Novus, even with Morrow's disappearance. Their alpha needs his magic to cloak him while he enters into Pailon. He's already changed his blood so it flows like the ancients, but now he needs more, a cushion of power to protect him from the ancient's wrath. She inquired about Arion, but he supposedly wanted to explore the main city surrounding the plateau.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎With all this time spent with Ronyn, it's clear whatever lingering emotions between her and the beta have long been forgotten, temporarily at least. Ronyn's been nothing but his chivalrous yet annoying self these past few days. He hasn't brought up the strange tether strung between the two of them, not that she wants to get herself into that conversation. There's an allure to Ronyn. He's so playful, a bundle of optimism that causes her heart to flutter. He's sunshine and daylight.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But when she thinks about the alpha risking his life in Scaerus, her heart combusts into flames as if her yearning can grant him even a hint of light. Unlike Ronyn, Morrow is darkness and night. Every shard of his heart that she chisels from him becomes another step closer to the completion of something greater, to the building of his throne inside of her own beating vessel. There's more to Morrow than what he reveals to anyone, even if Ronyn insists he knows him best.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn drops his voice and asks the question she's dreaded him asking every day. "How's Morrow doing on the other end of that bond?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Usually, she tells him it still pains her, but there's no sign of him in her mind.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's been quiet," she murmurs, closing her novel.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"And how does that creature in you feel about that?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's creature purrs at the sound of Ronyn's sincerity for her mate, but the truth is, her creature has been frightened from Morrow's lacking presence. She's gotten so acquired to the feel of his wolf that his exodus leaves her with a strange vacancy.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her silver orbs widen. "Afraid."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's not just fear for him and his fate. She's afraid that he's severed his ties with her and shattered the heart-consumed bond written in the stars, afraid that he signed his name on the dotted line and wrote away his firstborn. Isn't that what she wants? To be completely free from Morrow so she can run away to a place he can never find? To go to Thorn in search of answers without the alpha looming over her head?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He'll come back," Ronyn sits up, letting himself indulge with a nuzzle against her shoulder. "He always does."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Do you think the silence means anything?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"If you don't feel pain, it might mean their rituals with him are done," he lifts his head. "He might be on his way back now."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She crosses her fingers that the alpha will be coming home soon. She's sick by all the nausea he's caused her. Even with all the powdered donuts Ronyn brings her, her appetite still falters as long as Morrow remains in those iron chains in the witches' crypt.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn takes Elowen's novel, aimlessly flipping a few pages. "You've been reading a lot of these lately."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ah, the books. Her distraction from Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen blushes, attempting to rip the book from Ronyn's claws. "Give it back! You wouldn't like it anyways."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Why's that?" he hums, his hazel irises scanning the words on the page.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Because," is all she can answer. Heat keeps swarming up her skin, flushing her face until it's a bright rose.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎At once, Ronyn's eyes widen as he realizes the contents of the page, then snaps the book shut. "Fae filth."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I prefer the term romance."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"This is how you're choosing to get off while Morrow's gone? Faerie smut?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Well, not entirely—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Let me get this straight," Ronyn grins maniacally, his hazel eyes so alive with mischief. "You have been linked to him to the point of physical pain for the past five days, and in exchange, you've been sending him images of faeries going at it?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"No! That's not all I read!"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Gods, he's gonna be ready to pounce when he gets back."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen reaches for the book, snatching it from Ronyn's clutch. "I was just curious to see if magic could be linked to emotions," she hisses.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Or sex."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It was just a distraction!"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Fine, I'm sorry for mocking your, uh, choice of distraction," he winks as he says this. Then, in typical Ronyn fashion, offers the plate of pastries towards her. "Want one of these as a truce?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She smiles. Little does the beta know, he's the best choice of distraction she can have. Ronyn eliminates Morrow more than any filthy fae novel with just a wink and goofy grin... and sweets.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her gaze wanders to the golden light basking through the window panes. It's a last resort to repair that broken tether with Morrow. The bond brought pain, but it was a pain that constantly reminded her that he was there. Logic tells her to let it be like this, quiet and fading, but she's become accustomed to his intrusions that it seems strange without him wandering her skull.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow, are you there?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But there's no growl, no sign of his wolf.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Just bitter silence.

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*

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 five days, Ronyn brings Elowen to dinner. She ignores the strange glances given by the fae royals, but she feels a sense of relief when Oleander gives her a cordial nod of respect, of encouragement. Time is running out, and she still hasn't reached Thorn, and Oleander must know that she won't be able to leave once Morrow returns. There is a rare chance Elowen can convince Morrow to go, but he certainly won't let her near the blight decimated village. Besides, she's the one that carries Oleander's compass to give to Thorn when she arrives, else he'll think of her as an enemy.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When sunset comes, Ronyn continues to do his duties to distract her from her strengthening bond to Morrow. They indulge in the final night of the harvest moon's festival, dancing within the crowds of fae and laughing without hindrance. She passes on the wine, knowing that she'll need to stay sober if she plans to make the flight.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Because now that Morrow's matebond with her becomes non-existent, this will be her chance to fly from the were. No nausea or pains from the witches' daggers will slow her down.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Except, Ronyn won't let her out of her sight.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎As the moon rises into the night, a waning gibbous glows above their heads as the beta rushes her into an empty courtyard. The scent of autumn flowers wanes over her senses, a drug in itself that only increases the magic of the twilight hour. Colours of red and orange surround them, as well as mixes of deep violet and fuschia. Fireflies weave between thick hedges and bushes, mimicking the constellations above their heads. Reovell was never this magical, nor was Tabrien. Yestrea is truly a gemstone that goes unmatched.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen stares upward in awe of the masterpiece before them. "I think I could've belonged in Yestrea."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You do belong here," Ronyn smirks as he bashfully shoves his hands into his pockets. "You got those pretty little pointed ears."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Yet, her appearance means nothing if her magic fails her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Would Ronyn let her run off to Thorn? He's the one that prompted her to go and seek out answers about her fae abilities. He was there when Asphodel confessed that there was something off about it. The idea sounds absurd, but it's even more absurd to think that Ronyn would support her. He wants to see her thrive, see her fly... if it benefits the were.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn's brows furrow as he studies her. "You're lost in thought."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She gulps. "If I ran by dawn, what would you do?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Hunt you down," he leans towards her, sniffing the air she breathes. "I can track your scent from anywhere. It's distinct. You smell like dandelions and powdered donuts, with hints of Morrow's awful fucking stench."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Of course, she smells of Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"If I asked you to join me, would you follow?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn's shoulders tense. She understands he feels a weak bond between them, but it's not a matebond. Not in complete. Their connection isn't strong enough for him to permanently oppose his alpha, his superior. Although, maybe he already has.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I can't. I'm bound to the loyalty of the pack."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Okay, if I left to go and pursue my magic, what would you do then?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The beta hums in response, his hazel eyes glazed as he analyzes the growth of the gardens surrounding them.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She continues to ramble. "There's a man by the name of Thorn who lives southwest of here in an accolade called Dreamweaver's Bluff. It's been destroyed by the blight, but he's the one who can help me understand why I lack my father's magic."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Who put these ideas in your head, half-breed?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oleander."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The king's advisor?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen nods. "He told me the first night of the festival. It was right before you found me."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn scratches his head. "What does Oleander know that Novus and Asphodel don't?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm not sure, but there's no answers to anything within the books in the library, and his advice is my only lead."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He grunts. "That's because you've been reading pure filth."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I haven't—" she holds her tongue, shaking her head in defeat. "Forget it. It's not going to happen."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Whoa, I never said that it wouldn't."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You won't go against Morrow or the pack, which means there's not a chance that I'll be able to escape."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Half-breed," he sucks in a heavy breath, then exhaling as the warmth cascades against her cheeks. "I want you to figure out your magic. I really do, but now isn't the time."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It'll never be the time," because if not now, then when? Time ticks towards Morrow's arrival, and she knows he's coming back. An inkling of heat flows within her veins, an almost electric caress of the alpha's aura.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Or maybe, it's her nerves.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn slips an arm around her waist, gently ushering her into the shadows of an ancient elm. "There will be, and I'll make sure of it."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He forces the world to drown away until all she can comprehend is the flickering hazel against his warm pupils. Proximity remains minimal, her chest almost heaving for air against the hard planes of his own. A low growl echoes from his throat, coaxing her eyes to fall shut, but she quickly forces them open as a way to resist his charms.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Your heart's racing, half-breed," he jokes, a charismatic smirk plastering his lips.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I know."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You like to live for the thrill of things, don't you?" Ronyn combs back stray locks of maroon hair from her cheek. "The idea of running straight towards your own death ignites that spark in you. Makes you tick, doesn't it?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Unlike your alpha, I avoid death. I want to go to harness my magic."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Morrow won't let you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Morrow's not here," she retorts, baring her teeth in mild frustration. "He left to screw himself over with the witches, then tortured me for days with the mind-link, only to break it in two."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The beta grunts. "You don't actually believe that your bond with him is broken, do you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What if it is?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Only the moon is strong enough to break a matebond," Ronyn murmurs, "so Morrow's lack of prodding in your mind isn't because the witches have destroyed it. He's just choosing to go dark."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The information dumbfounds her. If Morrow accepts the proposal from the witches, then not even mating with another will sever her ties to him. It's an eternal thread that can only be destroyed by the moon or death. Her creature shakes with anticipation at the infinite bond set before them, but Elowen herself can't be sure if she's ready to be bound to Morrow for as long as she lives. He doesn't want a mate.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It all means he doesn't want her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He can, however, choose to betray it," he clarifies. "And rumour has it that it will hurt like a motherfucker if he does."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Worse than what I felt with him in Scaerus?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"A million times worse," he shrugs. "But how would I know? I'm not exactly experienced in the 'mate' department since I don't have one."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen crooks a brow. "That's hardly an excuse."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I said 'mate', not 'mating.'"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She's well aware of Ronyn's expertise in the mating areas of his life, and it's a shame he's gone this long without finding one. He'd be such a good partner, one that will love eternally without hesitation, one that would die for offspring of his own. It's easy to imagine the guy trying to raise rambunctious children, or perhaps just trying to tame a crying infant.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎What they have isn't a matebond, not like she has with Morrow. She can sense his wolf, tidbits of his emotions, but there's no mind-link that connects them through vast distances. Still, whenever she looks into those hazel eyes, she only wonders what tricks the moon plays on them to tantalize them like this. He's a temptation she's finding harder to resist.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn releases a gravelled growl before his palm cups the sensitive skin beneath her chin. Coarse fingertips drag across the surface of her skin, drawing goosebumps in their wake.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He watches her lips as they morph into a slight pout. "I could kiss you right now."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Oh. This is new.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She wonders what would happen if she did cave into the underlying bond between them. Ronyn will kiss well. There's no denying that fact. But her train of thought keeps progressing from kisses to touches, to the intimacy of what it'd be like to trip and fall into his bed—

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her creature suddenly tears from beneath her bones, wretching a sharp pain through her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A low brooding voice thunders through her head. Leaning in for the kiss now, are you, sparrow?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen pushes Ronyn away, her mind spinning as she raises her gaze to the fae castle walls inked with vines, searching for any hint of black ominous wings.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn regathers himself, stunned that she just shoved him away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's not that," Elowen stammers, her gaze glancing between candlelit windows. Where is he? Her creature senses his aura, and he's close, so close she can almost hear his heart hammering within her ear drums.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The alpha has returned to Yestrea. It's why her matebond has been so quiet.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn sets his hand on the small of her back, her body trembling with paranoia. "Half-breed, you good?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He's back."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Morrow?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She nods her head, stepping away from Ronyn's touch, for it's not Ronyn her true tether wants. Although, maybe she wishes it was. Her entire body craves the alpha. His breath. His voice. His scars and runes and corruption. Her bond sparks into an inferno the closer she drawls towards him as if she knows where he now stands, and him to her. It's as if the moon is forcing her limbs to gravitate towards him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Where are you? she hisses down the tether.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Closer than you think.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎How much did you hear? Does he know about her attempts to fly to Thorn?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A subtle laugh echoes from Morrow. A laugh of all sounds. The sound parallels through her until it's cutting through the open air. Morrow's sinister laughter brings Ronyn to a halt, a bitter growl roaring from his chest as both of their gazes tip upwards to the branches of the elm.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Hidden beneath the mask of crimson autumn leaves, Morrow leans between two large branches, his arms folded across his chest as he wears, to her surprise, a loose long-sleeved white shirt that contrast his black trousers and leathered boots. He never wears white. Haunting black wings blanket behind him, wings that shelter the moon's glow from his sharp features. With a flap of his wings, he jumps from the tree down to the soil below, landing on his two feet with ease. His fingers flex with agitation as Morrow approaches Ronyn, but it shocks Elowen to see them bare of his typical rings. He appears angelic, yet he's an angel mixed with terror.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎For a moment, she fears Morrow's fist will collide with Ronyn's jaw, but the words that leave the alpha's lips surprise him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Thank you," he mutters under his breath. "For bringing her back to me."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He gives him a curt nod, but he's far from gratuitous. "She fell from the fucking sky thanks to you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You think I wanted to stop her like that?" he growls, then turns towards his fated mate, meadow hues striking her silver.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow takes a step closer to her, one, than two, until he towers in front of her like the god that he is. She searches his features for any hints of softness, something to match his words. Does he know of the pain that stormed her while he dealt with the witches' torture? She knows exactly where every rune is on his body, where the knives traced his skin to bless him with their curses.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen straightens her posture, almost standing on tiptoes just to meet him eye to eye. "What the hell have you done?" she hisses with all the might she can possess.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow clicks his tongue to his cheek, a tendon in his neck tightening. "What do you think?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You... you're going to choose to mate with a witch, aren't you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He tilts his head. "And that disgusts you?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It does. She hates that she cares even in the slightest about him, but she knows the song that's written beneath their bond will end if he does so.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And it will hurt more than what she can comprehend.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Unlike that laughter that once flew from him, he suddenly becomes the stone statue that the were know best. Morrow Killian will never let anything come in between him and his pack, not even Elowen, the girl with wings that match his own. Morrow's matebond is second to his friends, his kind, and he will become the ultimate sacrifice because of it.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Still, he wants her bound to him, to be at his every beck and call. He controls her, even when he's not around, inflicting pain in any way possible to keep his little sparrow caged up.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her fists clench. "Make a decision, then. Is it me? Because if it's not, then let me go."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow stays silent, his meadowed hues a window of shattering glass. It's the first sign of anything emotional about him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Let me fly away," she hisses, her words like knives against his cold heart.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Nothing.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The answer of silence becomes louder than any words the alpha could ever choose. He's ripped away every choice she's ever had, just to keep her close to him. How will she ever know the true colours of Morrow's heart? Will it forever be scorched by the witches, or blackened by molten ash?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen turns her back on the alpha and beta, marching back into the Yestrean castle to hide in her room, away from the were. Once again, she feels their invisible shackles chain around her limbs, all by Morrow's command. It's not like Ronyn did much to aid her freedoms either. He did what the alpha required of him, to keep her in check. And she stayed, tempted by his grins and powdered donuts, as if she believed he could polar the one she was mated to.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Sparrow," the name leaves a stale ache in her chest, forcing her legs to stop. "We leave at dawn."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her heart sinks. There's no part of her that'll think of Tabrien as her home, not when her heart belongs to the Reovellian highlands. Now, Tabrien becomes a prison cell.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Not to Tabrien."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She stops, turning over her shoulder to meet those now firefly green irises. She feels him in her mind, tracing every thought of hers with calculation.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Thorn. He knows about Thorn, probably learned about him with his constant intrusion of her mind and bond.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow turns from her and switches his attention to the beta, only to see Ronyn give a defeated nod before bowing his head. The two of them disappear away from her sight, her mind beginning to spin around in cyclones.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Just when she was convinced the alpha couldn't confuse her more, he agrees to her demands. Perhaps he sees the benefit in discovering her magic. Magic is what he wants, isn't it?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's a shame she's not willing to lend it to him. The moment the power hidden beneath her blood rises, the moment that hum becomes a hurricane, he'll regret the day he ever tried to lock his little sparrow away forever.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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morrow's back! i couldn't keep everyone's favourite were-wyng away forever! i know we're on our way to thorn very soon, but let's face it. we need answer's from morrow, and what better way to do that than with... more morrowen scenes.

if you haven't, you can find all the sparrow related content on my instagram (@/ivynisles), so make sure to give it a follow if you want see my obsession for these characters.

ivy <3