I roared my anger into the sky. I let the rage fill my heart and cloud my vision. I began killing men blindly. Merls came and went under my paws. Weapons didn’t stand a chance against my violence. Nothing could handle my aggressive power. Together with Roman I could kill them all! The men-like creatures screamed as they died.Dui Makroon-Dar! Two Red Death! Dui Makroon-Dar!
But there were too many. They kept coming. Never ending.
Dion!Roman barked, as he stood atop the rubble.It is fated.
I roared again, climbing over the mounds of bodies back to Feyra at the altar. Dread pulled at my chest. She had been fighting diligently, going through the forms and actions I’d taught her. She didn’t need a whole bag of tricks, just enough, just the fighting style of the Guards of the Half Moon.
I made it to her with my heart heavy. I was not ready to leave Roman. I had never been ready to leave any of them. But fate had always pulled me away. From my mother at birth, my father as a baby, and now from the man that had raised me, my uncle.
Feyra vaulted over a sea of men and landed on my back. She continued to stab and kill, but she squeezed my ribs.It is time.
I growled and bounded forward. My claws tearing the faces from men as I ran. My legs broke limbs and necks as I pushed my path clear. My sights were on Roman and Roman alone. His wolf was stained in blood. His eyes afire. He truly was theRed Death.
I gained the rubble, vaulting over a line of men with spears. I pushed others aside as I climbed towards Roman. A second line of men stabbing at him blocked my way, I wouldn’t be able to jump them. Roman caught my eyes, his flaming ones extinguished, and acknowledged me with the eyes of the wolf I’d always known. The line of men stabbed Roman all together.
I was roaring without knowing, Feyra screaming from on top of my back, but Roman was the loudest of all. I leaped onto his back, then jumped as he launched me towards the opening.
Farum di Makroon Moondaj!He called.For the Blood of the Full Moon!
Chapter 21
FEYRA
I clung to Dion’s fur as he bounded between walls and buildings. He jumped impossible gaps in single leaps and never stopped. The merls continued chasing us, and when they neared, I stabbed them for daring to attack him. Our escape was the inner-city boundary wall, soon coming to the outer walls of Jebra. At an intersection of the walls, the last merl that had been chasing us finally knocked me from Dion.
I fell, rolling to a stop beside the edge. My spear clattered to the ground far below. Dion skidded to a halt, turning back. The merl landed upon me, clutching my leg—but it had been too focused on me and forgot Dion. He tackled it away, ripping its throat out and killing it. But he didn’t stop. He continued to rip every limb from the body.
Dion!I called out in wolf sense.
But he wouldn’t listen. He tore the legs off, crushed the chest to mush, then finally, tore the head off of the corpse. He roared at the sun.
We were far from the temple, and suddenly it was silent. No other merls had followed. He stalked towards me slowly, bloodied fur and gashes weaving their way around his body. He knelt for me to climb on and we continued with no other disturbances.
When we finally gained the mountain, we rested on a ledge facing the city. I saw the walls of the temple and felt so damnstupid.Of course my mother wasn’t alive. Of course it was all a lie… Dion howled a painful cry into the sky. Then he shifted, walking away from me without speaking.
We came to a place of cover. A small opening that was shielded from view. A voice inside told me to leave, but I was tired. Dion needed to rest,weneeded rest.
I felt his heart heavy with sadness. He still refused to look at me.
“Dion…” I reached out and grabbed his shoulder. But he pulled away. “Dion–”
“Don’t,” he said, turning back, full of anger. “He– he wouldn’t be dead if– we didn’t need to come here!”
I flinched from the verbal wound.
“I didn’t want to come,” he went on. “But Roman said, he said–” he fell to his knees. His chest heaved breaths; tears threatened to fall. His body was bloody and struggling to heal itself. “He didn’t have to die.”
I hugged him. He didn’t push away this time. He crushed me with his arms, crying into my stomach. I could feel his inner howl reverberating through me, his whole body humming, a resounding echo of pain.
I held him. I knew the words he said were in anger, in grief, he didn’t really mean them.I hoped he didn’t.
He pulled away, “I hate prophecy. My whole life– it’s always pain. I don’t want to know anymore. I just– I just–” he swallowed a breathless mouthful.
Something was wrong.
His wounds reopened; he began to bleed profusely.
“I just–” but he couldn’t finish.
