Round1✔ - Ambassadors' Pick
Round2✔
Longlist✔
Shortlist✔
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Genre: fantasy, romance, and a teeny tiny bit of action.
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Of a Moon, majestic silver and soothing blue, that hung in the sky, breathing life into barrenness and lifting...
Alarick could feel it as it brushed against his cheek and glided down his arm. The subtle, almost imaginary caress left nothing but a searing heat in its wake.
His body was set ablaze, aching and exhausted, but burning nonetheless. His bones were sore, his head throbbed, and his heart hammered against his ribs. Pain tore through his entirety, gripping tense muscles and tender teeth. He could neither move nor open his eyes.
Alarick resigned to the welcomed lightness that enveloped him, overtaking all his senses, and slowly drifted into undisturbed slumber.
Accalia gently stroked his hair, sensing him burrow into her touch, and smiled as he slept. Her Lycan needed all the rest he could get for his energy to be replenished and his body to recuperate. The aftermath of the shift had finally settled in, and it'd take a while for him to recover.
Silence blanketed the room and faint rays filtered through the window as the curtains flapped slightly. Accalia watched the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Warmth enveloped her body as she sank into the mattress, and a sense of peace settled over her. Heaviness slowly tugged at her eyes until they fluttered shut and soft snores emanated from her.
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Alarick stirred, a faint groan escaping his lips as he shifted on the bed. His brows furrowed slightly, and his eyelids flickered before slowly opening to reveal drowsy, silver orbs. He blinked a few times, trying to orient himself.
As his senses gradually sharpened, he became aware of the softness of the bed. His palms spread over the silky sheets beneath him and moved until they reached his damp skin. He was drenched in sweat.
Alarick found sitting up to be quite a challenge, feeling unsteady and light-headed as if he had been immobile for an extended period. Frowning, he reached up to hold his head, waiting for the dizziness to pass and his vision to clear.
Then, his gaze swept around the room. It was pitch black. The curtains were drawn shut, and there was neither a fire crackling nor a candle flickering.
Yet, despite the utter absence of light, Alarick's sight remained unaffected and he could see just fine.
As a wolf, a creature accustomed to the darkness of the night, his vision was already keen. However, after his Moon healed him, his senses were heightened a thousandfold. Now, as a Lycan, it felt...different.
It was him, but not entirely. Everything seemed new and strange but in a good way.
Alarick stood up, enjoying the cold floor under his feet. It was a welcomed coolness to his sweltering skin. A soft breeze brushed his body and he glanced down. The cloak Accalia gave him was gone.
"Fur substitute," he mumbled, recalling what she'd said, picked up the silky sheets, and messily draped them over himself.
Proud of his work, Alarick sniffed the air before padding out of the room. He ought to find her, for only she could soothe the aches in his heart, soul, and body.
