Broken Wings [Completed!]

Chapter 5

Blood fell from the wolf's black coat with the heaviness of grief and the weight of a long-held sigh. Evira swung her axe again and felt the dreaded sentiment of killing spiking through her veins. Except this time, the revulsion was masqueraded by a veil of tranquility. She didn't shudder when her footsteps printed blood onto the floor, or when claws digged into her flesh. The feeling was numb. Hell did that to people - stripped them of their judgement of what's right and what was wrong.

"Why are you here?" Evira grunted, kicking the werewolf away. "This meeting is just meant for the Hellions!"

The wolf's only response was a snarl. Evira twirled, just fast enough to dodge a gleam of white and the edges of a fang.

Red blossomed at the corner of her eyes; Evira sucked in a breath when the wolf leaped onto her shoulders, pinning her down. Her breath was caught in her throat - no, the werewolf had transformed into a man, his fingers wrapped tightly around her neck. Frantic and panicked, her legs moved on their own; moving it slightly to direct her attacker's attention away from her arms, before slamming her fist onto his cheek. She rolled to her feet, gasping for oxygen. Yet her throat still felt as if millions of tiny hands were crawling on it, grasping for her weakest point.

"If I recall," the man said, his white hair covering his face. "The conversation wasn't about Hellions, but you specifically." His head rose, so that Evira could catch a glimpse of his empty, dark stare. "While the whole world is suffering, you are only worried about your own selfish reasons."

Evira steadied herself against the wall, watching helplessly as the Earth spun on its axis. "So what are you suggesting?" she managed to spurt out.

"That I hate monsters like you, who holds the greatest power to make a change, but only use it on themselves."

Monsters. His words engraved themselves into her chest and slammed against her ribs, tearing her apart inside. "And you're saying," she gave a pitiful laugh, "that you can do something about it?"

The man lifted his head fully so that Evira's disorientated reflection stared back at herself. She looked fragile and weak, holding her axe as if it were a plaything. "At least I'd be able to do more than you," he said.

"Then I hate arrogant creatures like you," she retorted.

"No one asked for your opinion."

His movements were quick and agile; one moment he was about two metres away, and now directly in front of Evira. She took a step back, nearly tripping over the Consul's limp hand. As the ring twinkled at the sight of danger, the man aimed a kick at her stomach, the front of his boots skimming the leather. Head bent and focused at his aim, Evira could see the black lines on the back of his neck that marked him different from the rest.

Leader of the pack.

Blindly, she threw her spare knife towards him. They were coated with silver, its purpose mainly for killing werewolves. She pictured him dropping to the floor and shivering as the silver worked its magic through his body.

He only sneered. "Your world is still backwards, it seems. Zoyalina wasn't wrong." A gun clicked in his hands, pointed directly at Evira's head. The gun was made of silver too, but his hands didn't tremble or show any symptoms from the touch.

"H-how-?"

"Haven't you heard of evolution? Or is your education here lacking as well?"

Evira's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Especially if I've a damaged eye too." Evira twirled on her feet - not fast enough. Bullets of silver slammed into her air, so fast there was no chance of dodging. A bullet slammed into Evira's hip, and then another, finding its way into her thigh. Hard floor met her weight as she lost her balance.