SELENE
CHAPTER 18
Soren stirred. His lashes fluttered, and his fingers twitched against Selene's. She was holding his hand, both of hers wrapped around his, whispering soft prayers that he would wake. That he would survive.
Her heart leapt when his eyes opened—clear, ocean-blue, dazed but searching. He was alive. The gods had spared him. Selene had feared the worst. She had thought she'd lost him.
She had stood helpless as Zerek beat him. Blow after blow, flesh against flesh. Her father and brothers had held her back, told her to stay still, to let it happen. It was cruel. And she had watched, each strike tearing at her as if it landed on her own skin.
Eiran had held her hand, tight as iron, stopping her when she would've run to Soren. She would've given up everything—her family, her place—just to protect him.
If Aeris hadn't come when she did, barely a breath away from too late, Soren wouldn't be breathing now.
Selene moved to his side, closer, wiping the cold sweat from his brow with a damp cloth. Her hands shook as she touched the angry wound still healing at his temple. The skin was bruised, torn. It made her stomach twist. The pain in her chest was sharp and strange.
Why did it hurt more than anything else? More than the thought of Aeris leaving for a far and cruel land? More than the thought of never seeing her sister again?
The thought made her breath catch. She looked away, ashamed. What is wrong with me? she thought. Aeris is leaving because of me. For me. And all she could feel was the warmth of Soren's skin, the steady rise of his chest. What kind of sister lets her youngest go to suffer in her place, and still feels glad to see someone else wake?
Selene pushed aside the tangled thoughts clawing at the edges of her mind, focusing only on Soren. He lay still, his gaze fixed on the cold, unyielding stone above. She leaned closer, searching his face, desperate for any sign that he was truly here with her.
"Soren, can you hear me? Can you see me?" Her voice was steady, but her heart was in torment.
For a moment, those ocean-blue eyes held nothing but a dull, empty haze. She feared—had feared since the moment he fell—that the damage had stolen his sight. But he had slept for a day, his wolf's healing slow but steady. Perhaps it was returning.
Soren parted his lips, but no sound came. Frustration flickered across his face. His throat had been crushed under Zerek's fists, ruined out of pure cruelty. Even now, the wound had not fully mended, leaving his voice locked behind broken flesh.
"It's okay," Selene whispered, squeezing his hand, her own trembling with relief and fear alike. "You will be okay. Your body is still healing. You will—"
Her breath hitched when his fingers tightened suddenly, fiercely, pain threading through her palm. His eyes, alert now, locked onto hers with silent urgency.
Where was Aeris?
Selene flinched, looking away, the air thick with unspoken truths. The answer he wanted was the answer she could not give, not now. He shifted, forcing himself upright, shaking her hand, demanding. He needed to know. Where she was. What had happened. And if she told him, he would go after her.
Selene knew it with certainty as solid as the stone around them. He was wounded, his body barely holding together. If he moved now, if he pushed too far, there would be no undoing the damage. "Don't worry, it's fine. Aeris is alright," she said, forcing calm into her tone.
But Soren did not believe her. He shook his head, and despite the pain, tried again to speak. Soren forced the sound out, his voice like shattered stone grinding against itself. "Where…"
Selene's stomach twisted. She had spent the night begging the gods for his return, but now, faced with the fire in his wounded body, she wished he had stayed asleep. "She is set off for Skaldur," she murmured, dread thick in her throat. "With Prince Zerek."
The words struck him like a clap of thunder. His pale skin turned ashen, and for a heartbeat, he was motionless. Then he moved, wrenching himself upward, ignoring the agony clawing at his limbs.
"No, you can't, Soren." Selene pressed firm hands to his shoulders, but he did not falter. He looked fragile enough for the wind to take him, yet he rose, obstinately. The bandages wrapped around his wounds darkened, fresh blood seeping through the linen. Selene gasped, pulling back, knowing that stopping him now would wound him far worse.
"Soren, it's Aeris's decision." Her voice trembled as she tried to make him understand. "Father has accepted it. He set a condition. Zerek cannot marry her until she turns eighteen, but he will take her. She is gone."
Her words were a plea, but they meant nothing to him. He pulled open the door, stepping forward into the corridor, into the sharp morning air. Cold mist coiled around the mountains, swallowing the land in ghostly silence. He walked with his hand dragging along the stone wall for balance, his steps slow but unrelenting.
Selene followed, her voice breaking as she called after him. "Soren, please—"
But he did not hear. Or if he did, he did not care. Selene's plea was nothing but the wind, slipping past him unheard. Soren moved as though nothing could stop him. Not the pain, not the blood seeping through his bandages, not the weakness clawing at his bones. Bent and broken, he forced himself forward, down the stairs, each step a battle against his failing strength.
Selene followed, helpless. Soon Nyra joined them, then Veyla, then Karlene. Silent shadows trailing behind him as he pushed on.
Through the corridors, past the stone pillars, until they reached the great hall.
Empty.
The men were gone. Zerek had taken Aeris that morning, long before the mist lifted from the mountains. Selene felt the weight of her last embrace with her sister, the warmth already fading from memory. Tears welled up, hot and blinding.
"Soren." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Aeris is gone."
He turned slowly, his face now pale as frost. His lips parted, and his throat, rough and torn, struggled against his own demand. "How far?"
Selene could not answer. She had said her goodbye before the sun touched the sky. Now, it climbed higher. Time had stretched endlessly, yet Aeris was already slipping beyond reach.
Nyra spoke instead. "They left early, almost four hours ago."
"They would be beyond the Duskari by now," Karlene murmured, the weight of the words settling over them.
Veyla gave Selene a pointed look. One heavy with expectation, with unspoken command. She needed to take control. But how? She had no answers, no strength to wield against what had already passed. A desperate part of her wished Soren would collapse again, if only to keep him from doing something reckless.
"How," Soren rasped, his voice fraying at the edges, "could you let her go? How could you give up?"
Selene swallowed hard. "It wasn't a choice." Her voice was thin, fragile. "Prince Zerek didn't give us one."
The look Soren gave her was piercing. A hollow thing, edged with something dangerously close to hatred. Nyra flinched, looking away, bitterness carved into the tight set of her jaw.
"We tried," Nyra said, her voice tense, strained. "We did everything we could. But that bastard—he wanted nothing else. No one else. Even Selene pleaded with him, begged him to take her instead, but he refused. He wanted blood. He is a barbarian. No surprise."
Soren's breath turned shallow, his body wavering, barely holding. "I have to get her back," he whispered, the words jagged, unraveling at the edges.
Then, his body gave in.
He dropped to the floor.