The Beginning of The End |•|•| Fate : The Winx Saga

Chapter 9

The Burned One lunged with terrifying speed, its claws flashing as it crashed into Elara, slamming her onto the cold courtyard tiles with a force that rattled her bones. She barely had time to scream before the creature tore into her chest, its razor-sharp claws ripping through flesh and fabric. Her agonized screams cut through the chaos like a blade, chilling the hearts of everyone who heard them.

"Elara!" multiple voices shrieked in horror, but none were louder—or more heart-wrenching—than Stella and Farah. Their voices cracked with sheer panic, rising above the din of the battle around them.

Sky, seeing the attack unfold, sprinted toward them without hesitation. His sword gleamed in the courtyard lights, and with a powerful, precise swing, he decapitated the Burned One in one brutal motion. The creature collapsed into ash and smoke, but the damage had already been done.

Elara lay sprawled on the ground, her chest heaving, blood pooling rapidly around her and soaking into the tile beneath her. Her face was a ghastly shade of pale, her lips trembling as she gasped for breath. Without wasting a second, Sky scooped her fragile body into his arms and rushed her to the makeshift medical table, where only moments before Sam had been treated.

Elara's breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps, each one a desperate, wet struggle against the crushing pain in her chest. She felt like she was drowning, her lungs refusing to obey her.

At some point—she didn't know when—Farah appeared beside her, her mother's hand seizing hers in a grip so tight it hurt. Farah's face was wet with tears, her expression a twisted mask of anguish.

"Mama," Elara wheezed, her voice barely audible through the blood that bubbled at her lips.

"Don't try to talk, my love. Save your energy," Farah pleaded, her voice thick with grief as she smoothed Elara's matted hair back from her face, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

Tears streamed from Elara's eyes as she stared up at her mother, the fear and pain overwhelming. Another sob tore free as Ben Harvey worked frantically on her chest, trying to clean and close the wounds. Every touch sent fresh waves of agony through her body.

"Mama, I w-want to go home," Elara stammered, sobbing, her body writhing weakly on the blood-slicked table. Her back arched involuntarily as another bolt of pain ripped through her when Ben pressed gauze to the gaping wound.

"It'll be alright, darling, you'll be alright," Farah whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the lie. She gathered Elara's hand between both of hers, clinging to her as if she could somehow anchor her to the world.

In a desperate, heart-wrenching attempt to lighten the mood, Elara let out a choked, gurgling noise that was meant to be a laugh. "Why is it always me?" she joked weakly, though blood streamed from her mouth, staining her teeth a horrific crimson.

Farah's heart shattered further at the sight. Her knees buckled, and she clutched onto the side of the table for support, unable to believe the magnitude of the nightmare unfolding before her.

"Mama please, I don't wanna die," Elara cried, her voice ragged and wet, each word wringing fresh blood from her lungs. Her eyes—once so bright and full of life—were wide with terror now, filled with a child's desperate plea for comfort and safety.

"I know, I know you don't, my love," Farah sobbed, her fingers tracing gentle patterns across Elara's shaking hand. "Everything will be fine," she lied again, the words tasting bitter and wrong in her mouth.

Off to the side, Ben caught Farah's eye. His hands were stilling, the frenetic urgency gone. He shook his head subtly, a solemn look carved into his features.