3
KADEN
My head lifts from the carcass of the dead animal, blood dripping off my chin as itpat-pat-patsto the ground underneath. My eyes, black pits of the deepest bowels of the Underworld, look to the puddle pooling under the stag. Lowering my head, my tongue laps at the freshness and I growl.
Copper, grass, death, and fear all swirl in my nose and I inhale deeper. The scent is intoxicating. Real. Lush. It calls to me like nothing else.
Or rather, it does to the beast.
He controls my body and my movements while I am just a passenger. As weightless as a spirit, I am here to observe and nothing else.
I try, at times, to take it back. To fight for my body, to cage the beast. It’s a hard-fought battle when I can be the one in control. Those moments are rare and precious. I’ve gone days, locked out from my body, forced to watch as he goes wild.
He tried to attack Max this morning when we entered theIn-Between, a place not claimed by Dark Fae or Woodland, that acts as a natural boundary. There are places like that around all the Fae kingdoms, but I didn’t realize once we entered the sun, it would hurt.
Burnt, and bleeding, he only wanted her blood to heal. It’s a holy nectar and he craves it in ways not of this continent.
By Bel’s grace, I was able to force him away, to follow the Hadeon, and find substance to repair the damaged flesh.
It didn’t last long. He’s getting stronger, enjoying longer durations as the sole owner of my body. This is penance for all the freedom I kept him from, when I was the one with the leash and he was locked in chains.
Blinking, I look through his eyes, like a trapped prisoner, trying to remember color. The beast sees in black, white, grey and only red—red for smells, or interest. The Hadeon nuzzles the dead deer again, as if begging me to continue eating.
His pulse is red, but the beast knows better to attack. I don’t hear his thoughts, but he knows the Hellhound will kill him if he tries.
He cares about his safety, above all else. He will not do anything that ends his reign.
He continues to eat, fangs ripping into the coolest tendon. It’s the oddest sensation—feeling my body devour blood, taste it on my tongue, feel it warm my belly and soothe the burn on my arm. But I am outside my body, trapped in the mind, holding on to a door with sheer force of will.
If the door closes, the beast wins, and I’m lost.
If it stays open, I have a chance to come back from this. Come back to Max.
Max, who is the balm to my rage, the moon in the sky, that shines brighter than all the stars. She is the only reason I have not fully given in, allowed the beast to control me and wished for death.
Max is my future. She is everything I never hoped to have and likeSeti’sHell, will I give it up.
The beast raises my face to the sky, basking in the glow of the cold night. Through his eyes, I see the thin clouds move along, obscuring the lights, but I feel it. The rays shine down on us comforting and welcoming, a source of peace after so much strife.
It feels like Max: her love and her strength. A steady presence, always there, always giving, and Gods above, I miss it. I miss her.
Our bond flares in my chest and I hunker into it like a weary traveler to a bonfire. This is why I continue to fight. My grasp is limp, my will in shambles, but I refuse to give up on returning to her.
On Enyo’s life, I mentally plead,let me return to her. Let us have the love we were destined to enjoy. Let us live.
A howl pierces the night and the beast snaps my head to the left. The darkness is thick, the branches covering most of the forest, but a prick of red moves in the distance.
I know these lands well. My mother often traveled to Aoife’s castle when I was young. When she agreed to be our only ally during the early days of our coup, I travelled here alone for correspondence.
I’ve witness the massive wolves who call this territory their home. They stick close to the rivers, hunting elk and stags, they avoid the Fae common areas.
They wouldn’t venture this far, not unless?—
The beast growls, standing on my legs, feet curved, claws raking into the mud. He senses the change—the call of blood in the air.Unless they’re hungry.
And a long line of Fae soldiers with food is exceptionally appealing to starving beasts. Fuck, the guards themselves would be delicious.
Max.
