“Conri was mine to kill—all of the wolf kings were,” she says, loud enough for all to hear, straining her voice against the wounds and against the pressure Evander is placing on her throat. “I started this vow. I had to end it.”
The thread free, I carefully place it over her neck, over the wound in a zigzag patten as though I am planning how one might stitch the skin back together.
“Yes, and now that he’s gone, we’ll go to the home of the sirens.” I touch one end of the thread, trying to draw out the power from within me.
Aurora lifts the less damaged of her two arms, gently gripping my fingers. Her touch is little more than a butterfly landing on my flesh. But it stills me.
“There is no time… No mending this.”
“No.”
“Faelyn, you don’t have the power to fix this.” The words are said as gently as possible. But oh, how they hurt. How inadequate I feel.
“I can?—”
“Only if you draw from my power, and probably still not then.”
The other alpha has returned with my sewing kit. She places it by my thigh and promptly backs away. None of the lykin seem to dare encroach on the sacred ground of the grove, still covered in the magic mist of the great wolf spirit.
The great wolf spirit!I look to his perch for help, but he’s gone. I don’t remember him leaving.Damn him. He probably couldn’t have lent assistance; this is no doubt beyond his scope of skill. But blaming him deflects some of the pain from myself. The focus of this being my fault, and mine alone.
“Do not risk using my power. You need to take the rest,” Aurora finishes.
“What?” I gasp softly. I hear a sharp inhale from Evander at my side. His brow is furrowed, eyes filled with all the sorrows of the world. In his own way, he, too, loved Aurora. If he didn’t care for her, he never would’ve risked everything to free her months ago.
“Do what you did the first night we met. Take my power into you.”
“I don’t—I can’t—that was an accident.”
“You clearly have special talent, Faelyn.” Aurora smiles weakly. “You can.”
“But that was a ring shattering. It’s not the same.” I blink feverishly. Many times over. Tears are spilling over my lower lids.
“This body is merely a vessel for my power. It is no different than the ring was.” Aurora’s words are stronger, unfaltering. Which only makes the blood flow faster between Evander’s fingers. “If it is destroyed, the power will be freed, it will seek itself out.”
“Can I not give you the power in me instead?” I grasp for any idea that doesn’t end with what she’s suggesting.
“If you could, we would’ve done it before,” she reminds me gently. “Faelyn, I am tired. I have lived a thousand years and do not wish to exist a thousand more in this form.”
“What will happen to her if she takes all your power?” Evander’s voice is thick and heavy with emotion. But there’s a resignation underneath his words that I want to resent him for. I can’t believe he would go along with this. In his worry for me, he is giving up on Aurora. “She cannot be a spirit, can she?”
“I do not know,” Aurora admits. “But she has been fine with half. I believe she is strong enough to hold the rest.” The optimism is heartwarming, though I can’t help but think it’s also misplaced. Her eyes open fully, gaze returning to me for what I can’t help but feel is the last time. “Please, Faelyn…if it were to be anyone, I’d want it to be you. End this for me.”
I blink many times, my vision blurring as the tears I can no longer hold back finally slip free. I grab her fingers with fervor, forgetting about the thread and her wound. I hold on to her like with this one touch alone I could keep her here, as she is. I could keep my friend.
Aurora smiles, her eyes fluttering closed once more. She is utterly at peace. Even the moonbeams that strike her seem to glow brighter.
The woman I have known, in this way, will be gone. But she will live on forever in another form. In me. In the moon that I will greet every night.
“It will be all right,” I whisper for her and for me. “No more pain, you have suffered long enough.”
Still holding her fingers with one hand, I turn and reach for the knife wedged in Conri’s neck, freeing it with a grunt. I wipe the blade on my thigh. The linen shift is already stained in crimson. I wish I had a blade that was not used to kill Conri, a blade that could be for Aurora and Aurora alone. But this is all I have, and there can be no delays.
Setting the knife at my side, I select one of every thread. Loop them around the hilt and then cover them with my fingers. Every bit of essence from me, from my ancestors that wielded this hunting knife through the years as we used it as a tool for our magic—every bit of essence from the spirits we knew and those that are long forgotten. I wrap it all together.
A memory, long forgotten, returns to me. Of a rare time in the woods with my mother as a girl.
Faelyn, someday, there might come a time where you must use your strength to take the life of another.The words were so gentle for their darkness. For the metallic taste they put in my mouth even though I was not the one speaking them.I know. I know, Grandma says that our strength is used only to help this world. But, someday, there could be a need for you to kill. Perhaps it is to save yourself. Perhaps for much needed sustenance to survive a long winter. Whenever this time comes, strike strong and true, my daughter. Do not hesitate. For worse than taking a life is causing suffering while doing so.
