Feral Bonds

Chapter 14: Wake Him

Elowen sat in the shadowy corner of the chamber, cradling her daughter Sira in her arms. The little girl's trembling body pressed against her, seeking comfort she could hardly provide. Her heart ached, torn between the horrific ritual she had just performed and the fierce need to protect Sira at all costs. The air in the room was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the pungent decay of the Nomad's corpse that lay in a heap at the far end of the room. The remnants of Rhylen, the savage beast whose Alpha glands now thrummed inside Akecheta, rotting and forgotten.

She kept her eyes carefully averted from the corpse, unable to face the grim reminder of what she had done. Instead, her gaze was fixed on Akecheta's still, broken body. His skin was slick with blood and sweat, his lips bitten raw as his unconscious form writhed on the slab. Even in sleep, he couldn't escape the pain. His new fangs, too large and too sharp for his mouth, kept piercing through his lips, and the flesh around his jawline was torn and swollen.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible, not just to her daughter but to Akecheta as well. She wasn't sure if he could hear her in his unconscious state, but guilt wrapped around her heart like a vice. She hadn't wanted this. None of this.

Sira whimpered, pressing her face into Elowen's chest. "Are we going to leave, Mama?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes," Elowen replied softly, stroking her daughter's hair, trying to soothe her. "We will leave soon. I promise." But her mind was already racing, formulating a plan, calculating the risks. The pact protected her and Sira from Brannoc's wrath, but that safety was as fragile as the life flickering within Akecheta. She couldn't rely on it forever. They had to escape, and soon.

But first, she had to make sure Akecheta survived.

Elowen stood slowly, careful not to disturb Sira, and approached Akecheta's prone form. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths, his body still shifting beneath his skin, struggling to adjust to the Alpha glands she had so ruthlessly implanted. His fangs, too large for his Omega body, jutted awkwardly from his mouth, tearing his lips open with every slight movement. His claws, sharp and long, were permanently extended, as they no longer fit within the structure of his hands.

Elowen's stomach churned as she reached out with her magic. She could feel the conflict within Akecheta's body—his Omega nature fighting against the Alpha grafts. It was a violent, unnatural transformation, and his body couldn't handle it. Bones creaked, muscles spasmed, and she could hear faint cracks as his frame buckled under the strain. She had to keep him under; the pain was too much for anyone to bear, let alone a broken Omega like Akecheta.

She wove her magic around him, keeping him unconscious, numbing the worst of the pain while she tidied up her work. She couldn't fix everything—not with the grotesque changes Brannoc had demanded—but she could smooth over some of the wounds, trying to heal the damage she had done. But every time she thought she had stabilized something, his body rebelled, biting through his lip again, forcing the fangs to protrude further. They weren't designed for an Omega.

With each spell she cast, her guilt grew heavier. She could fix the physical wounds, but the deeper ones—the mental scars—were beyond her reach. Akecheta would never be the same. Not after this.

A sudden sound broke the silence—the heavy thud of boots descending the stone steps. Elowen tensed, her heart pounding, as Brannoc reappeared, his presence dark and looming. He took one look at the Nomad's decaying body, the bloodied Akecheta, and the weary witch, and his lips curled into a cruel smirk.

"I see the boy hasn't woken yet," Brannoc remarked, his tone filled with dark amusement. "Good. But we'll see how well he responds when he's truly tested."

Elowen straightened, dreading what he would demand next. "He needs more time to adjust. His body is—"

Brannoc silenced her with a sharp wave of his hand, his eyes gleaming with cruel intent. "Wake him," he commanded. "And have him eat the Nomad."

Her heart lurched. "Eat...?" she echoed, horror flooding her veins. "Brannoc, that will destroy what's left of his mind—"

"Wake him," Brannoc growled, cutting her off. "I don't care about his mind. I care about his strength. If he's truly an Alpha now, he'll cannibalize the Nomad without hesitation."

Elowen's blood ran cold, but she had no choice. With a reluctant murmur, she wove her magic into Akecheta once again, tugging at the edges of his consciousness, forcing him awake. His body jerked, a gasp escaping his torn lips as his eyes fluttered open. One red, one maroon.

Akecheta's gaze was wild, unfocused. His chest heaved as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings, but the primal hunger—the unnatural Alpha aggression—burned within him, overriding his fear and confusion.

Brannoc's voice was a low, commanding growl. "Shift."

Akecheta's body reacted before his mind could, muscles twisting and contorting as his wolf form surged to the surface. But this shift was wrong. His limbs snapped and buckled under the strain, his bones lengthening and warping as the Alpha hormones flooded his system. His once sleek, caramel-colored fur was now streaked with patches of navy black—sections altered by Elowen's magic, dark and unnatural. His fangs jutted out grotesquely, resting along his jawline, too large for his muzzle.

He looked like a monster, a twisted, mangled version of his former self.

Brannoc's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he pointed to the Nomad's corpse. "Eat."

Akecheta's wolf form hesitated, his mangled form trembling, but the Alpha command could not be disobeyed. With a guttural snarl, Akecheta's jaws snapped open, and he tore into the decaying flesh. The sound was sickening—bones crunching, skin tearing, as Akecheta consumed the Nomad's remains, his body convulsing with every bite.

Elowen turned away, bile rising in her throat. This was beyond cruelty. It was barbaric.

When Akecheta finally finished, his fur was matted with blood, his claws scraping against the stone floor as his body twitched and jerked, unable to fully control the changes taking place within him. His wolf form was broken—distorted by the violent melding of Alpha and Omega.

Brannoc stepped forward, examining the scene with cold detachment. He grabbed the remaining bones of the Nomad, tossing them aside as if they were garbage, and turned to leave. But before he ascended the stairs, he shot one last glance at Elowen and Sira, his smirk twisting into something darker.

"I'll be watching," he said, his voice thick with malice. "If this fails, neither you nor your daughter will be safe."

And then he was gone, leaving Elowen alone with the mutilated remains of Akecheta and the cold, suffocating weight of her guilt.

Akecheta's wolf form stood, silent and trembling. His bones snapped and twisted as his body tried to adjust to the unnatural hormone levels coursing through him. His spine elongated, pushing his proportions out of alignment, making his limbs too long, his stance crooked and unstable. The sound of breaking bones filled the room, and Akecheta's wolf whimpered in pain, but his eyes—those haunting, mismatched eyes—remained fixed on Elowen, filled with a silent, primal plea.

Elowen acted quickly, weaving her magic around him once more, forcing him into unconsciousness before the pain could consume him entirely. His body slumped to the floor, his fur matted with blood, his form grotesque and twisted.

She knelt beside him, her heart heavy as she reached out, her hand trembling as she touched his fur. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, though the words felt hollow and meaningless.

With a deep breath, she began the final stage of the transformation. She augmented his wolf form, using her magic to reinforce his bones, reshape his spine, and strengthen the muscles that had been torn apart by the violent shift. The sections of navy black fur gleamed unnaturally in the dim light, contrasting with the remnants of his caramel coat. His new form was monstrous, with fangs that jutted out from his maw and claws that couldn't retract, but at least now he could stand.

But as she looked down at him, Elowen knew the damage had already been done. He was no longer an Omega, no longer the boy he had been. He was something else entirely—something broken, twisted, and lost.

And as the weight of her guilt settled over her, she realized with a sinking heart that there was no going back.