Alpha to the Moon Goddess

2 - Soren

"Ei . . . ron!" the Vampire rasped, raising his head so all could see his face.

Eiron recognised him immediately. The Vampire's skin shading was unique, for it were as if he were made of metal.

"Soren?" Eiron gasped, catching Aral's wrist before she tore Soren's hand off out of instinctual defence.

His team paused with following recognition. They did not pull away nor lower their guard however. But neither did they attack. They remained alert, stances at the ready, claws out, fur bristling, on edge.

Eiron dropped down on one knee and grasped Soren's shoulder, forcing the Vampire to raise his face.

"My friend, what happened to you?" Eiron whispered harshly.

Soren's entire body was contorted with pain, so much so that it were as if the tension in his muscles began to disfigure his limbs. His breathing was rasped and rattled, a hiss between his clenched teeth and fangs. It pained Eiron to see it. The man who was quick with words and wit, a dark sense of humour and constant smile to charm all, and wisdom of almost the age of the Moon itself, was warped into a creature of hissing torment.

"Soren!"

Soren's hand snapped up, catching Eiron's wrist with a grip which should have snapped even the Alpha's bones. But it did not. Eiron grimaced, however, with a low grunt.

"Get her . . . out of . . . here!" Soren strained.

Miraculously, the Vampire still possessed his mind throughout whatever was afflicting all of the Vampires. Soren could still think. It reflected within his glowing crimson eyes and was threaded between the veins of his words and tone.

Eiron sensed who Soren meant.

"The Luna?"

"Yes! Get her . . . out!" He bowed his head with a snarl and twisted his neck away, as if fighting something from within. "Her eyes," he continued with ragged pants, exhausted from whatever he was fighting. "A voice compels us . . . but it is not her voice!"

Ice touched Eiron's spine. He gripped both of Soren's shoulders, forcing the man to look at him.

"What voice?" he asked firmly. "The only voice we both are meant to hear is the Luna's."

"This is . . . a different voice. We want . . . it wants . . . to see . . . wants . . . her eyes!"

"Her eyes? Sight? Who's voice? Soren! When did –?"

Soren suddenly grabbed the collar of Eiron's uniform and brought them close. The Werewolves moved immediately in defence of their Alpha.

: Hold! he commanded them.

They froze, contrary to how their instinct compelled them to protect him, because indeed it appeared as if Soren attacked him.

But he had not.

"The closer we are to her . . . the stronger the pull . . . the less I can think!" He grunted, but the sound broke off briefly into a quiet whine of agony. Its pitch was far sharper and clearer than a grunt or hiss, and the Werewolves turned sharply in anticipation of the maddened Vampires hearing.

Soren caught Eiron's face though, preventing him from looking, and held his eyes with desperation, yet a steely clarity still existed.

"Do not listen to the ground, nor to the life within its earth and water," Soren hissed fiercely. "The mountains will swallow. The seas will drown. The fire will burn. Do not let her see!"

Eiron grasped Soren's hands from his face. "Who, Soren? Who is speaking to you?" He demanded, voice hard.

Soren twisted his head again with another growl, tinged with a groan, before he suddenly snarled and tore himself away, and ran, dashing away from them and into the darkness of the corridors, away from the High Courts.