Page 222 of The Chosen One Universe: Volume One

Saeward

“What has happened to you?” Saeward murmured.

He carried the unconscious man to his cabin and laid him gently on the couch. Sawyer’s body was bruised all over and he had one particularly deep claw mark going down his side. His skin was damp and chilled, yet he burned with an inner fire. Fever.

After starting a fire, he wrapped Sawyer in a blanket and gathered some herbs. He didn’t have much in the way of human medicine at his cabin, but he knew of a few ancient remedies he could use to assist Sawyer until they were able to find him human help.

Someone would surely be looking for him. He was so beautiful that he had to have people, connections, a mate. Even as abused as he’d been, there had to be someone out there who cherished him. Saeward couldn’t be so lucky.

He longed for someone to call his own, someone whose heart called to him. Instead, he swam, forever alone. He was running out of hope, but then… No, he couldn’t hope for this. It was foolish. Sawyer was injured and alone. He would care for him and then return him to his loved ones. It was the way it had to be.

He started a pot of water and began mixing herbs into a small mortar. Once the water began to steam, he used his pestle to crush the herbs, releasing their oils. Gathering them into a small cloth, he tied them up and dipped the entire packet into the water.

Sawyer began moving behind him, groaning in pain. Saeward quickly poured the mixture into a mug and carried it into the living room. Sawyer had worsened in the few minutes since he’d left him. His face was flushed, and he was panting. There was an overly sweet scent to the room now as well, one that tickled Saeward’s memory.

“Drink, Sawyer.”

Saeward held the cup to Sawyer’s lips and supported his head. He managed to get a few sips down before Sawyer began to pant and cry out.

“What did they do to me?” Sawyer cried.

“What did they…” Saeward gulped then leaned down to breathe deeply. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Sawyer, who had you? Can you tell me? What were they doing to you?”

Sawyer’s answer was another groan. Saeward gently brushed Sawyer’s dark hair off his forehead. “Sawyer, please. You must tell me.”

Sawyer opened his eyes then let out another pain-filled groan. “T…Tiamat,” he managed to stutter out.

Saeward couldn’t hide the expression of horror that must have crossed his face.

“Wh…what did they do?” Sawyer gasped.

“You were being sacrificed to Tiamat,” Saeward whispered in horror.

“Yes,” Sawyer said quietly. “The griffins, they thought I was an imposter. But I’m not. Magdalen thought she could find her true mate.”

His eyes drifted shut again. The words made little sense to Saeward. How was Sawyer an imposter? How could he help this Magdalen find her true mate?

Those questions could be answered later. They had more immediate concerns to address. Saeward shook him gently. They had no time to lose. The pieces were slowly coming together, and the picture was not a pleasant one.

Saeward was well aware of the practices of the cult of Tiamat. She was an ocean goddess, one who boasted of chaos. But her other skill was one of fertility, and the griffins, like many of their world, were unable to have children.

He’d heard whispers of the growing desperation of others like him, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise that someone would try dark magic to ease their panic. Tiamat had fallen out of favor well before Saeward’s time as her worshipers performed dark and dangerous rituals with terrible consequences. Dark magic which they’d worked on Sawyer.

“Sawyer, do you have a mate?”

“Y…yes,” Sawyer said. “My… my guardians. Help me find them.”

“Sawyer, where are your guardians?”

“The griffins,” he said. “We went to the cottage. Why does it hurt? I’m so hot. Something’s not right.”

“They’re at the griffin compound? Focus, Sawyer. This is important.”

“Yes. Where am I?”

Too far away. The griffins were along the coast as well but were hundreds of miles south from where Saeward had made his home. He’d purposefully separated himself from others, choosing an isolated life instead. For years, he’d avoided any chance of interaction, but he’d broken his own rules and he still didn’t understand why.

He’d swum farther south than normal earlier that evening, something calling him, an itch he couldn’t scratch until he’d followed it. Then he’d brought Sawyer back to his cabin, farther away from his mates than he would have been otherwise.