“I have to do something about your wounds.”
“No.”
“Victor?”
“Don’t. . . leave me,” he whispered.
“I have to. You’re too weak. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I covered him with a blanket.
“Don’t.” His hand clasped my arm with surprising force.
“Please, let me?—”
“Don’t leave.”
“It’ll only take a moment.”
His hand fell lifelessly onto the covers, his lips twitched as if he wanted to say something else. I used the opportunity to step away, and approached the door. I hated leaving him all alone, but he needed more help than I could give.
I walked through the corridor, trying hard not to look at the destruction, all the blood and gore. I passed a few servants and warriors who moved through the empty halls, seemingly, in a daze. In the great room, children wailed and women cried, mourning their loved ones that were placed on wooden tables by the walls. Almost against my will, my eyes shifted toward the tables. One after another, I recognized the faces of the fallen; women from the village, children, and many black clan warriors.
I curled my hands into fists, forcing myself to remain strong. Tears would not help anyone. They were useless. I had worked hard to completely extinguish that weakness from my soft heart. But despite everything I kept saying to myself, my eyes continued searching the bodies. Suddenly, I saw the ashen face of a person I had seen only hours ago.
Cara was looking up at the ceiling, her arms were extended as if she was welcoming death. Her light, curly hair was darkened with blood, an open wound was clearly visible on her head. Someone killed her because she was turning. She was onlysixteen years old, barely a woman. She will never get married, have children, and never grow old.
Why did she have to die? What was the purpose of it all? Why did we have to go through all this pain and suffering?
I pressed a hand against the wall, supporting myself. My throat contracted but my eyes still remained dry.
A sudden thought brought me back to reality as fast as a flash of lightning. Victor was still alive, badly injured and he was absolutely alone. I had to do everything in my power to help him. I continued down the hall, no longer daring to look at the bodies.
“Lady Aly! Aly! Aly!” A group of people burst into the room, carrying another body.
For a long moment, Alina was concealed by multiple black clan warriors.
“Alina?” I called, but my voice was drowned by the din.
I made my way through the thick crowd.
“What happened? Tynan? Is it Tynan?” I shouted.
“He fought two clan leaders and won, but he got beat up,” one of the men explained.
“Alina!” I pushed more warriors out of the way.
When I finally made it to the figure with bright red hair, she was holding on to Tynan’s hand. He seemed barely conscious, his blood dripped onto the floor.
“We need temple water!” Alina turned.
Her face was paper white, her eyes appeared almost wild. And the warriors searched for any they might still have on them.
“No! I don’t need it. Save the infected first.” Tynan’s voice came out weak but firm.
“Bring him here!” Alina commanded.
Even under the extreme stress, she seemed calm and collected, but I knew that underneath it all, she must have been terrified.
I followed them into the room where Tynan was carried
