Part 23

At some point, the exhaustion was too much. Days had passed with little to no sleep, and now that Ronan and Annika were gone, there was nothing to stop her from finally giving into slumber.

There was a dream. One without color or substance. It felt more like a fog, a coldness clinging to her skin as she stumbled through a gray mist. Shadows lurched and shifted just outside her reach, always disappearing before she could reach them. She felt afraid. A real, cold terror she hadn't felt in many years. Her heart hammered, trapped inside her chest. Fear had stolen her voice, making it impossible to call out. Just ahead of her, she could see a dull, yellowish light at the edge of the fog. She hurried towards it.

Shapes of towering trees melded into buildings, the forest floor turning to a cobble stone path. Her breath left her in a white mist. Too late she realized her steps were leaving black footprints on the white dusted ground. Horrible realization washed over here, the cold and the sooty prints all too familiar.

Zara emerged from the fog quite suddenly, as if stepping from one room of a house and into the next. Her breath was stolen from her in a soundless gasp. She whirled around to see the fog pressing closer, as if it were a living entity intent on swallowing her whole. Pivoting again, her eyes widened and her legs gave out from underneath her. She fell to her knees, shaking her head.

She was in Whitehaven, but not the Whitehaven she knew. This Whitehaven was a skeleton of the kingdom that had been her home for the past fifteen years.

The buildings were all but unrecognizable, smoke still dissipating from smoldering ruins. There was an overturned merchant's cart not even ten feet in front of her, it's contents having spilled to the ground. Rotting fruits and vegetables were the least of the carnage. The scent of death was overwhelming, though there were no bodies. Instead, there were reapers. Even more than what she had seen in Maran. The black cloaked creatures were so many in numbers, that they resembled a solid black cloud more than individual forms.

The ocean of reapers suddenly parted in front of her, though, creating a narrow path. She stared, feeling numb and for a moment unable to get to her feet. Slowly, though, she pushed herself from the ground and regained her footing. She kept waiting for one of the creatures to reach out a skeleton hand to her, to speak to her with its gravely voice. They paid her no mind, though, other than proceeding to slowly drift out of her way as she followed the path. She wasn't sure what she expected to find at the end of it, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

Mountains of corpses, piled on top of one another. As if they were debris, not people. They eyes were still wide and unblinking, staring at her. Accusingly. As if it were her fault she hadn't been able to save them. She swayed on her feet, reaching out to steady herself against a nearby bench. She felt a sob catch in her throat, her eyes burning as she tried to hold back tears. Because there, in front of her, were the people she had wanted to save the most. Gran, her mother, Gray, Ronan....it suddenly felt as if she were staring into the eyes of everyone she had ever cared for.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms over her face. "Not real." She murmured in a shaky voice. "Not real, not real."

The cold seemed to press in closer, smothering her until it was hard to breath. She gasped for breath, tilting on her feet. She felt herself slowly falling. Falling, falling, falling.

Her eyes flew open moments before she hit the ground.

Night had fallen, leaving the cellar pitch black. She blinked in the darkness, as her eyes slowly adjusted and made sense of the shapes that surrounded her, though there wasn't much to see. Her hair stuck to her forehead in cold, clammy sweat and her cheeks were damp with tears. Her heart had yet to slow and as she sat up from the floor. Using her sleeve, she wiped the tear tracks from her face. It had been years since the last time she had cried. Though no one could fault her for it now, even if it had been all thanks to a dream.

She felt along the ground next to her before feeling the familiar cloth of her red cloak underneath her hands. She tugged it on, wrapping it tightly around herself. The pain in her leg felt deafening now, cutting through her thoughts and making it hard to think straight. Sitting perfectly still was the only thing that seemed to help, though even then she was still gritting her teeth against the hurt. Zara almost wished Ardon would hurry up and come down to get her, so she didn't have to continue to sit there, wondering what was going to happen to her and trying to predict what he would do when he realized two of his prizes had escaped. Nothing good, that was certain.

She thought of Ronan and Annika, hoping the had somehow made it through the tunnel and found their way out. Even if the forest wasn't safe, their chances of survival were better out there than stuck inside the damp cellar. She couldn't stop picturing the Ronan from her dream, though, and she had to swallow hard to maintain her composure. She didn't want to shed any more tears. The only thing that would do was feed Ardon's glee.

Time passed in uneven lulls as she drifted in and out of a pitiful sleep, never staying asleep long enough for the dream to continue. She was thankful for that. Once was enough. She had been dozing once again when the door to the basement creaked open. Her head jerked up from where it had been lolling against her shoulder. A shaft of orange light crept into the basement, illuminating the staircase. Zara held her breath, her stomach clenching. It was time then.

Footsteps followed the light down the steps until she saw a shadowy figure coming toward her. It wasn't Ardon, though. The figure didn't have his tall, slender build and was instead stocky. The figure stopped in front of her and she recognized one of his pack members from earlier, the one who had gazed at Ardon so admiringly. The thought put a bad taste in her mouth. She still didn't understand it.

"Get up." He grunted.

Zara blinked her eyes slowly. "How? Your precious master crushed my leg."

The sass probably wasn't the smartest idea, but what did she have left to lose?

Even in the shadows, she could see the irritation flash across the man's expression. He had a crooked nose, like it had been busted in a fight, and a jagged scar marred his cheek. "Not my problem. Get on your feet."

Did the idiot not understand, or did he just not care? Zara glowered at him for a moment before finally setting her jaw, grinding her teeth together. Slowly, she braced her hands against the ground on either side of her and tried to pushed her way into a standing position. She kept her weight on her good leg as much as possible, using the wall as a crutch. A hiss of pain escaped her and she blinked back tears of pain. Little by little, she managed to right herself and finally was at her full height. She leaned back against the wall, panting for breath. It had taken more effort than she thought it would.

"Good." He mused, then as if suddenly remembering something, he began looking around the empty room. "Where are the other two?"

Zara kept her mouth shut, giving nothing away. He didn't believe her, though. Why would he? There had been three, and then there was one. Just her.

"Where?" He asked again, this time the single word rolling off his tongue like a threat.

Zara merely shrugged her shoulders, pressing her lips together. They could do whatever the hell they wanted to her, but she wouldn't say a damn word. Not even if they pried her mouth open and tried to force the words out.

Now, the man looked a little bit afraid. Even more than he did angry. Her unresponsiveness wasn't helping. There were missing prisoners, which meant someone wasn't going to be happy. Luckily for this man, though, Ardon would take it out on her. He suddenly turned and bolted up the stairs, leaving the door open so the light continued to tumble through it. Now she could hear bits and pieces of conversation, though the words made no sense as they drifted down to her. She waited as patiently as possible for what was next, ignoring the pain that shot up her leg each time the toe of her boot accidentally brushed the ground as she struggled to maintain her balance.

More footsteps. She glanced toward the steps to see, sure enough, not one but four figures hurrying down the steps. One of them was Ardon. He was in her face in an instant, his normally pale skin red with rage. His lips curled into an unpleasant sneer. She waited to feel his hand on her throat, for him to pick her up and toss her like a rag doll. Instead, he kept his hands tightly glued to his side, trembling with the effort of keeping him there.

Zara wondered why he wasn't ripping her to shreds, but then it dawned on her. She'd already given him more than enough reason to just kill her already. Instead, he'd shattered the bones in her ankle. If he let himself at her again, he probably would end up accidentally killing her before he could get his use out of her.

"Your silence is foolish, Zara, and you know it. Tell me where they went." He growled. He snapped his fingers and the stocky man who had been sent down into the basement before sprang away from Ardon's side and began to search the basement.

She licked her lips, carefully choosing her words before speaking. "Far away from you."

"Do you expect us to believe they disappeared into thin air, girl?" Wren stepped out of the shadows of the staircase, Daya behind her. She looked more poised than Ardon, though the slight twitch of her lip gave away her anger. Daya, on the other hand, looked livid.

"You little—" Daya sneered, thrusting out a hand toward her and Zara felt a sudden invisible force rush against her, knocking the air from her lungs as she slammed back against the wall.

Her bad leg suddenly gave out and she crumpled to the floor, clamping her jaws shut tightly to keep her whimpers of pain from being heard. She braced herself, waiting for another blow, but it never came. When she glanced back up toward the Ardon and the witches, she was more than just shocked to see it was her uncle who had stepped in. He held Daya's arm firmly in his hand as they silently glared at one another.

"It is not your job to punish her," he said in a seething whisper.

Wren looked nervously between them as Daya wrenched her arm from his grasp. "And it's no longer our job to perform your little spell either," she spat. "Find someone else."

Ardon folded his arms across his chest, assessing her with a calculated stare. "I would rethink that decision while you still can. We had a deal."

"Yes, and the deal was dark magic in exchange for the man who murdered our sisters. And you lost him! So as far as I'm concerned, our deal is now obsolete." Daya argued, straightening herself up to her full height, though she was still one head shorter than him.

The entire room seemed to suddenly pulse with a nervous energy. Zara was still sitting on the floor, watching the scene in front of her unfold. Immediately, she knew Daya had given Ardon the wrong answer. She could see it in the way that his nostrils flared, the way his eyes seemed to suddenly spark with energy...there was a storm brewing behind his gaze and Zara braced herself for it to be unleashed.

"Our deal," Ardon began softly, "is over when I say it's over."

What happened next was so quick that it took Zara's mind a moment to catch up. Ardon's arm shot out, grabbing Daya and spinning her so her back was pressed to his chest. One arm was wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her still. The other seized her chin and there was a blur of movement before Zara heard a sickening 'snap' as her broke her neck. Her stomach clenched as Daya'a lifeless body crumpled to the ground in front of her. Her eyes, dark and expressionless as a doll's, stared vacantly at the wall.

There was a pause, as if each person in the room needed a moment to process what had just happened right in front of them. Zara hadn't realized it, but at some point her hand had moved to cover her mouth. It wasn't that she even particularly cared for Daya, or knew her at all. After all, the woman had been hellbent on killing Ronan, and most likely Annika too. What Zara felt was the shock of having watched someone so pointlessly and violently take another life. Like it had meant nothing. Ardon was the only one who looked unaffected, as if it had meant little more than snuffing out a candle flame to him. Their eyes met and Zara fought the urge to look away. It was like he was silently taunting her, pointing out to her, 'look, look what I can do to people who disagree with me'.

Wren was the first to react. The agonized scream that erupted from her throat was shrill enough to make Zara's ears ring and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The lone witch lunged toward Ardon, hand raised in a threatening, accusatory manner. The wolf king easily caught her wrist, though, twisting it and holding it behind her back. Wren let out a hiss of pain, arching her back against the pain.

"Kill me and you won't live long enough to enjoy it. I have an entire pack at my finger tips and we both know you aren't nearly as strong alone. Not to mention, you were always the weak one. The runt compared to your sister." He chewed on the last word before spitting it out, as if it had a rotten taste to it. He nudged Daya's body with the toe of his boot. "I asked for a spell, and I will get a spell. Or I will make sure the rest of your days are spent in misery. Do you understand?"

Wren gritted her teeth, but didn't say a word. Ardon twisted her arm harder and a whimper escaped her.

"Don't make me ask twice."

Finally, the witch nodded. "Yes. I understand."

He released her arm and she stumbled away from him, kneeling to the floor near Daya. Ardon rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck on one side, then the other. "Now. Where were we?" His eyes slowly slid back to Zara, locking onto her. His face split into a gleeful smile. "Come. It's time."

When she didn't move, he rolled his eyes and sighed under his breath. "You test my patience...and I have been patient for far too long. Get. Up."

She stared back at his yellow eyes unflinchingly, waiting until his mouth had grown stern and his eyes flashed. She waited just long enough for his irritation to ripple before following his instruction. Gingerly, she tested the wait on her leg and found the pain excruciating. She pressed her palm against the wall, using it to help her hobble to the stairwell. She could feel Ardon watching her, which only infuriated her.

"Pity. Though it won't matter much soon, will it?" He said. The other werewolf reappeared at his side, as if he had been waiting for the right moment to interrupt.

"Sir, I can't think of any way they could've escaped without using the stairs," he reported.

Ardon let out a low hum, mulling it over for a moment. "Send a few of the boys out after them, but don't waste anyone we don't have to. They're no longer a priority. I don't expect they'll last long alone in the forest anyway." He motioned then for Zara to climb the steps that led back to the ground floor of the house. Then, he reached for Wren's upper arm and wrenched her from the ground, pulling her along after them. Daya's body was left behind in the cool, damp cellar.

Her limp was more pronounced with each step, and by the time she had reached the top, she was biting her tongue to keep her hurt locked up inside of her. Though she knew Ardon knew she was suffering. Each step she took was heavy, ominous, and laden with pain. It was little more than a death march. One last walk before the end.