𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

xliii. the beta's return.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, and it's impossible to know if she'll ever feel upright again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen stands in the alpha's corridor, a wing of the palace that's only reserved for Morrow. Only, behind his bedroom door, Morrow lies dead. Cold. Under a pale bedsheet until one of the were collect his corpse to be buried in his grave. Afterall, he's no longer living, which means the blight writhing within his blood remains as dead as he is.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The thought chills Elowen to her bones. Everything's happening so fast, a spiral she can't straighten out. A fraction of her wishes to stash herself away under the quilts of her bed and revel in the comforts of the shadows. It's what she would've done if her situation was different, but seeing Morrow there, his meadowed hues void of life, is a horror she knows that'll haunt her every sleep.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Across the hall in another spare room lies Ronyn. He's alive and under constant surveillance from were physicians and fae medics. He's still not awake, but he's improving with every passing hour. They've managed to bathe him of all the grime and bandage the silver burns. The last she heard, a hint of colour was starting to return to his gaunt cheeks.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She doesn't want to enter either of their rooms for fear she'll crumble for good, so instead, she opts to go into her own room—the one Morrow gave her upon her arrival, wanting nothing more than to be alone.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But if she's learned anything these past few days, it's that no one in Tabrien lets her have too much time by herself. Amongst the whispers, she heard the word 'unstable' used once or twice due to her burst of ancient's magic. Do the were fear that she'll burn Tabrien to the ground just like she did to the terran camp? She can't be sure, but now that her magic's awakened, she has other plans that'll certainly heighten those rumours.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She's going to rid Aelethia of the blight by travelling to Pailon. There, she'll obliterate the one that started this to ashes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her bedroom door creaks open, followed by a soft cautious voice. "Elowen?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's strange to hear her name fall from the beta's lips. Ever since Thorn revealed that he's her true blood father, a thought that still rattles Elowen's mind, it's like her name has been shouted across the mountaintops. He calls her that directly, so it's no surprise that everyone picked up on it. She'd gotten accustomed to their nicknames, so it all seems so... odd.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea's tepid footsteps wander across the room to where Elowen stands. She's been too busy drowning in the canyons of her mind to even realise how much time has passed by.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She hooks her arm into her own. "Ronyn's been stirring and muttering in his sleep. The physicians think he's going to be ready for visitors soon."