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Marcus steps past me, gently laying Lyra’s fragile body on the bed. I hastily roll up my sleeve, preparing to expose a vein and offer her the gift that flows within me. The thought of my blood coursing through her veins, mending her broken body, propels my actions forward with unwavering certainty. But before I can even puncture my skin, Marcus, who has said nothing up to this point, reaches out, grasping my arm with an iron grip, halting my intentions. If I were not so distressed by the situation or preoccupied with saving her, I would have questioned his silence.
He takes a deep breath, his voice trembling as he begins to speak. “Indeed, the outcome appears inevitable. She has already undergone the infusion of vampire blood, yet the desired effect eludes us. It is evident that this method lacks efficacy.”
“That is impossible. Vampire blood, my blood, will heal her,” I snap. “Look at her; look at what has been done to her. How do you expect me not to do everything in my power to save her? I have seen the healing power of my blood on countless occasions, and I refuse to believe that it would fail now.”
Marcus places a hand on my shoulder. “Xavier, lend me your ear. Every conceivable effort has been exerted. Amara, the ethereal princess of the fae whom I spoke of, stumbled upon Lyra in such a woeful state within the forest’s depths. With great care, she transported her to an aged hunter’s abode. Amara wields immense restorative capabilities, and she employed them upon Lyra’s fragile form to no avail. She administered the elixir of vampiric essence, yet the outcome remained unchanged. It appears that Lyra implored Amara to bring her into your presence, and so, Amara summoned me. Alas, at the time of my conjuration, the true extent of the situation eluded me. Once I beheld Lyra’s condition, my immediate response was to employ my own mystical faculties in an attempt to mend her, yet even my sorcery proved futile.”
I know the extent of his powers, but I refuse to believe that fate would be so cruel as to put Lyra in my path only to snatch her away from me.
My eyes fixate on Lyra, her broken form lying on the bed, and I can’t help but feel a surge of helplessness wash over me.
“No,” I mutter through gritted teeth, shaking off Marcus’ grip on my arm. Fury courses through my veins, fueling my determination to fight for her. Lyra deserves a chance, and I refuse to accept a reality where I stand idle while her life hangs by a thread. I take a step closer to the bed, my gaze never leaving her battered body. “You don’t understand, Marcus. I won’t let her slip away. I won’t accept that there’s nothing more we can do. What about her own powers? She can heal; she just needs time. We can keep her comfortable or take her to the hospital; we can’t give up.”
“The damage inflicted upon her is of dire proportions, rendering her wolf spirit feeble and nearing its demise. I am well aware of your profound affection for her. Yet we must confront the stark reality before us. We have explored every conceivable path, and in the absence of her inner wolf, her existence hangs by a fragile thread, unlikely to persist much longer.”
Lyra’s wolf is dying, and the little bit of magic that she held inside her is fading away. When it finally dissipates into nothingness, Lyra will be gone.
“I can’t lose her,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“I am sorry, my dear companion.” He shakes his head. “Regrettably, there remains but one course of action: bidding farewell.”
The words crash against me like an avalanche, burying me. Anguish and anger collide within me, swirling in a maelstrom of dark emotions.
“How long?” I manage to choke out. “How much time does she have left?”
Marcus’s gaze softens, and his voice carries a heavy burden. “Scant time remains... a day, if fate be kind. The sands of time slip swiftly through the hourglass, my friend.”
A strangled cry escapes me, reverberating through the room and echoing in the depths of my soul. I know who did this; I can smell them on her, yet I still ask the question. “Who did this?”
“Her brother bears the weight of responsibility. Lyra, driven by her unwavering affection for you, sought her father’s intervention to alter the course of your predetermined destiny. Yet, met with refusal, she fearlessly confronted Lucian, offering herself as a shield to safeguard your well-being. Her actions were birthed from the depths of her love, binding her to you in an unbreakable bond.”
“Unbreakable bond? It is an unjust play; how does her death serve as a testament to an unbreakable bond?”
My eyes move over the marks of her brother upon her, the evidence of his cruelty staining her skin. I can’t escape the harsh reality that I played a part in leading her to this fate, and that her blood is on my hands. How could I have allowed this to happen? The realization hits me with a force I can’t bear. I have never killed an innocent before, and now I am indirectly responsible for the suffering of the one I hold most dear.
Desperation claws at my chest as I desperately search for a way to process the weight of my actions. My hands grasp at my hair, as if the physical pain will somehow offer refuge amidst the turmoil that ravages me.
“What have I done?” The words escape my lips, heavy with regret and self-condemnation.
Marcus’s voice cuts through my anguish. “Such circumstances elude the realm of foresight, Xavier. Lyra, possessed of a resolute spirit and an unwavering guardianship, arrived at this decision fueled by an ardent love for you.”
“Couldn’t I? I know Lyra. I understand her character. I should have anticipated that she wouldn’t simply stand by.” I should have known that she would put her own life before mine. I should never have left her to her own devices. “Leave me, Marcus,” I finally manage to say. “I need to be alone with Lyra.”
“I shall await your summons downstairs. Pray, give me a signal when the moment arrives to—“ Marcus’s words trail off abruptly, his voice faltering into a hushed whisper, his eyes distant and unfocused. The thought of saying goodbye pains him as much as it does me. His features contort, etching lines of agony onto his face. His hand instinctively reaches for his temples, as if attempting to alleviate the torment that grips his mind. The same torment plays on my mind.
I find myself incapable of offering a verbal response, the lump of anguish lodged in my throat rendering me speechless. Instead, I dip my chin in silent acknowledgment, granting him the permission he silently sought. Our eyes meet, conveying a profound understanding that transcends words, before he retreats from the room, leaving me alone with Lyra.
The weight of the moment settles upon me, the heaviness of impending loss drowning me. In the stillness that follows, I lower myself to the ground, my trembling hand reaching out to touch Lyra’s bruised cheek. The coldness of her skin is a stark reminder of the fading warmth within her.
A pain-filled whimper escapes her parched lips, her voice barely a whisper, as if the delicate thread of sound is all that remains of her shattered spirit. “Xavier.”
Heated tears well up in my eyes, distorting the world before me. “I’m here, love.”
Her lashes flutter open, revealing her once radiant emerald eyes that are now clouded with suffering, like precious gems tainted by a storm of anguish. Her gaze wanders across the landscape of my disheveled face, tracing the marks of exhaustion and despair etched into my features. A fragile smile dances at the edges of her bruised lips, like a flickering flame in the midst of a storm. “You’re a... you’re a beautiful mess,” she manages to whisper, her voice a tremulous echo of the vibrant spirit she once possessed.
A bitter chuckle claws its way out of my throat, its jagged edges laced with the weight of sorrow, as if each sound carries a shard of my shattered soul. “I know.” I can imagine what she sees—a man teetering on the edge of insanity. I wipe my cheeks on my sleeve, trying to regain some semblance of composure, the damp fabric smearing the crimson tracks left by my tears. “So are you, little wolf.”
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to end like this,” A pained expression flickers across her features, a mix of remorse and vulnerability. “I just... I just wanted to protect you.”
