He squeezed back, though he kept his eyes on Kate. “Every full moon,” he said in a soft murmur, “werewolves go through a forced transition. Our humanity is pushed to the back, and the animal takes control. Before the full moon fully rises, we shift into our wolf form so we won’t cause any damage, because if we stay in our human form while our humanity is wiped out for a whole night ...”
His shoulders slumped, his head hanging low. “Depending on the werewolf’s age and inherent temperament, if we stay in our human form during the full moon, our actions may vary, but none of it is good. For instance, more aggressive werewolves in their young adulthood could attack and kill each other, or do something far more vile.” The disgust in his voice was apparent, and I didn’t want to imagine what those vile things could be. “Those who are more levelheaded, whether young or old, could potentially be harmless—unless provoked, and no one knows what the trigger for that could be.”
Lucien’s eyes returned to Kate, full of despair. “And sometimes, no matter the age or temperament of the werewolf, they can catch a fatal mental disease called Wildlight.”
I stared at Kate now, too, as I started to realize where he was going with this, holding on to his hand now for my own sanity too.
And the blow came when he explained in a barely there whisper. “When a werewolf spends the full moon in their human skin, the animal within goes completely wild. The infected wolf can lose their humanity completely, and not just for the duration of the full moon—but for life.”
He squeezed my hand again, and I could feel him tremble with barely contained rage. “That loss of humanity causes the werewolf to go berserk. Young or old, they turn into horrendously strong killing machines that could physically tear anyone apart. Only an Alpha can restrain them without getting fatally hurt in the process.”
Horror filled me as I listened to him when he added, “I had to immobilize an eight-year-old girl suffering from Wildlight after she killed her own parents.”
My throat was closed up. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was hold Lucien’s hand and stare at the half-dead person lying in the hospital bed, and Dianna, holding on to her with empty eyes and a hopeless face.
“Two months ago, Kate was infected with Wildlight,” Lucien said, his voice even, but the tone broken. “She didn’t shift into a wolf in time. Very early in the night, she killed her parents, then ran to the woods in search of prey—any prey. She was so small, Drew.” He sucked in a breath, and I slowly turned to look at him. “A small little wolf who could kill an adult. It’s the most absurd sight you could ever see.”
He trembled, turning to look at me with unbearable pain in his gaze. “And while her humanity was gone, she was still only a baby. I had to fight ababy, hit ababy, and knock ababyunconscious so she wouldn’t kill anyone else.”
I choked, tears escaping my eyes.
“I had never encountered someone so young being affected by Wildlight,” he whispered, and I could see tears in his eyes too. That sight broke me. “In France, the youngest I had to subdue was fifteen, which, while not an adult, is still not a baby either. This little girl wasa baby.”
“Lucien,” I breathed, feeling suffocated, as I shook my head, holding on to his hand almost as tightly as Dianna held Kate’s.
A tear fell down his face too. “When she regained consciousness, she was already shackled and caged,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Seeing a tiny girl struggling against her shackles is a sight I don’t wish on anyone.”
He gave me a faint, bitter smile. “Wildlight doesn’t just affect the line between our human and animal sides,” he said, “but it also affects our very soul.”
He took a deep breath and let go of my hand as he averted his gaze, staring at Kate, though his eyes seemed far away. “She fell into a Concordian Stasis. This state occurs when the balance between body and mind of the werewolf is broken beyond repair. It’s the inevitable, incurable result of Wildlight.” He dropped his gaze. “With the horrible side effects of accelerated aging and remaining in the realm between life and death, unable to be killed, Wildlight victims have no choice but to wait until their body rots away, and their soul fades into nothing.”
My knees gave out as I fell to the floor, shaking, stifling my sobs with a fist in my mouth.
Because as he told me the story about Kate, and Wildlight, all I could do was look at Dianna. Seeing her face was like staring into a mirror.
No one needed to tell me Dianna was Kate’s older sister. It was obvious.
It was also obvious that Dianna would never forgive herself for what befell her sister—and, consequently, her parents.
The guilt and grief over losing a younger sister was something that would never go away. Especially when you were helpless.
Because just like Dianna, who couldn’t do a thing to help her sister, I, too, had only been able to stare in absolute horror as a monster took my sisters away from me.
It wasn’t Wildlight that killed my sisters.
And yet, just like Dianna, all I could’ve done back then was watch Willow’s and Julianna’s dead bodies disappearing right before my eyes.
Arms wrapped around me, and I leaned into them heavily, crying into the shirt that smelled like Lucien. His arms locked behind me, andhe cradled me close, rocking back and forth on the floor, murmuring unintelligibly into my hair in a soothing, comforting tone that was still broken, still shaky, as if he was trying to calm himself down too.
I held on to him for a long time as I let my anguish pour out of me. Distantly, I was aware of the guards taking Dianna out of the Ward, and my sobs grew louder as I couldn’t help but feel a suffocating empathy for the woman.
“Drew.” Lucien’s voice was clear all of a sudden, his hands grabbing my shoulders as he pushed me back a little so I could see his face. His was just as distraught as I felt mine was. “I’m sorry,” he said now when he caught my eyes. “I’m so sorry for dumping this on you. I’m sorry for bringing you here, but I ...” He swallowed hard and looked away. “I couldn’t ... visiting Kate is ...”
I cut him off with a sharp shake of my head. “N-No, Lucien,” I said, sniffling, looking at him as the tears still came out. “Y-You have nothing to apologize for.” Because I understood now why he brought me here, and under any other circumstance, it would’ve warmed my heart to know he wanted me here for support.
But now . . .
His hands cupped my face as he brought it close, leaning his forehead against mine. “But you’re crying, Drew,” he hissed in what sounded like self-deprecation. “I hate seeing you cry.”
