Feral Bonds

Chapter 24: Exodus

Akecheta crouched in the dark corner of his prison, his body battered and weak, his muscles aching from the months of torment. His skin was marked by countless sigils, the scars crisscrossing over the runes that had been burned into him during the ritual. The fae had tried everything to control him—binding him in vines, cutting into his flesh, scrubbing their strange dyes into his wounds, but nothing had truly broken him. Not yet.

He ran a trembling hand over his ribs, feeling the deep grooves left behind by their experiments. His body was thinner now, weaker than it had ever been. Each day was a battle to survive, to endure whatever twisted magic they forced upon him. He had grown used to the pain, but it had worn him down, draining his strength, making every breath feel like a struggle. But the fire inside him still burned—small, flickering, but alive.

The spirits of Ryhlen and Niall, once feral, now merged with his soul, had given him a glimmer of control, a sense of clarity that hadn't existed before. With them inside him, he wasn't just a beast. He was something more, something aware. He had bided his time, waiting for the right moment to escape. He knew the fae watched him constantly, but they had grown overconfident. They thought him broken, beaten into submission.

But Akecheta was not defeated. Not yet.

One night, when the moon was a sliver of silver in the sky and the magic of the fae woods seemed to lull into a dreamlike stillness, Akecheta made his move. He had studied the patterns, the shifts in the magical bindings that held the arena in place. There was a moment—just a flicker—when the magic waned, when the power sustaining his prison flickered like a dying flame.

That was when he struck.

With every ounce of strength left in his ravaged body, Akecheta shifted, his bones snapping, elongating, the familiar surge of the Lycan form tearing through him. It wasn't the chaotic, frenzied shift of the past. It was controlled, deliberate. Ryhlen and Niall's spirits pulsed through his veins, guiding him, giving him focus. He felt their presence in every movement, in every step as his claws extended, sharp and deadly. His form was a hulking mass of muscle and fur, but his mind remained clear, sharper than it had been in months.

He charged at the barrier, claws ripping through the vines and magical wards that surrounded him. The fae had grown complacent in their belief that he was too weak to fight back. His body slammed into the walls of the arena, shattering the magic that bound him, and for a moment, he tasted freedom.

But it wasn't without cost.

As he fought his way through the wards, a burst of fae magic struck him, searing through his left side. Akecheta howled in pain as his flesh burned, the magic tearing into him like a hot knife. His arm twisted unnaturally, muscles shredding under the force of the blow. He stumbled, his vision flashing with pain, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. He had come too far.

He pushed forward, even as his body faltered, even as his left arm hung useless by his side, twisted and scarred. He was bleeding heavily now, the dark magic within him reacting violently to the fae's power. But the spirits within him urged him on, whispering through the haze of pain, pushing him to keep moving.

With one final, desperate surge of strength, Akecheta broke free, tearing through the last of the magical bindings and running into the thick woods that surrounded the fae's domain. The air was colder here, sharper, biting at his skin as he raced through the trees. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he could feel his body weakening, his strength fading with every step.

But he was free.

As he ran, the sounds of the fae pursuing him faded into the distance. They wouldn't be far behind, but for now, he had a head start. He tore through the woods, his Lycan form crashing through the underbrush with primal fury, but with every passing second, his body screamed in protest. His vision blurred, the adrenaline that had kept him moving beginning to fade, replaced by the deep, gnawing pain of his injuries.

Eventually, his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed at the edge of the fae woods, his body heaving as he gasped for air. His vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges as his Lycan form began to falter. The power that had sustained him, the spirits of Ryhlen and Niall, seemed to quiet, their energy drained from the effort of escape. His hulking form began to shrink, bones cracking as he shifted back into his human body, the pain almost too much to bear.

He lay there, naked and trembling, his body covered in blood and dirt. His left arm was mangled beyond recognition, the flesh burned and twisted, but he was too weak to move, too exhausted to care. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as the last of the adrenaline faded, leaving him feeling hollow, broken.

The night air was cold, the wind whispering through the trees, and for a moment, Akecheta allowed himself to close his eyes, just for a second. The edge of the fae woods felt like another world, a place where the magic didn't reach, where the nightmares couldn't touch him.

But he couldn't rest. Not yet.

He forced himself to sit up, his body protesting every movement. His mouth was dry, his lips cracked, and he could feel the hunger gnawing at him. They hadn't fed him in days, and now that he was free, his body was demanding sustenance. But the thought of food made his stomach twist. He had been forced to eat whatever scraps the fae threw at him, but he had never felt nourished—only more hollow. The hunger was something else now, something deeper.

They had thrown animals into his prison before, desperate to keep him alive when his body began to fail. But his body rejected the meat. It had tasted wrong, as if the magic within him refused to let him take anything that wasn't tainted by the fae's influence. Even now, as he sat at the edge of the woods, his body felt alien, as if it no longer belonged to him.

Suddenly, he heard movement behind him. The fae were coming.

Akecheta's muscles tensed as the familiar scent of their magic filled the air. He turned, his eyes narrowing as several fae emerged from the trees, their faces expressionless, their eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. They moved toward him, their movements slow, cautious.

He pushed himself to his feet, but his legs trembled beneath him. His vision blurred again, and he felt the familiar pull of the beast within him, but it was weaker now, drained from the escape. He didn't have the strength to fight.

But then, something shifted. Deep inside him, where the spirits of Ryhlen and Niall had fused with his soul, a new power stirred. It was faint, barely more than a flicker, but it was enough.

Akecheta's body straightened, his posture shifting as the primal energy of the Lycan form surged through him once more. His eyes glowed with a strange, purplish maroon hue, the feral red and omega blue mixing and swirling in his gaze. He growled low in his throat, his teeth bared as he faced the fae.

They froze, uncertainty flashing across their faces for the first time.

Akecheta's muscles rippled as his body began to shift again, but this time, it wasn't out of control. He moved with purpose, with awareness. His body twisted and expanded, fur rippling across his skin as his Lycan form emerged once more. But this time, there was no frenzy, no wild, chaotic transformation. He stood tall, his form massive, powerful, but controlled.

He let out a low, menacing growl as the fae stepped back, their expressions wary. They had underestimated him, thought him broken, but they had no idea what he had become. With a snarl, he lunged at them, his claws slashing through the air, and they scattered, vanishing into the trees with whispers of alarm.

Akecheta didn't waste time. He turned and ran, his powerful legs carrying him through the woods, faster and stronger than before. The pain in his body was still there, but it no longer controlled him. He was free.

As he reached the edge of the fae woods, the adrenaline that had fueled his escape began to fade. His steps faltered, his body weakening again, and with a final, exhausted gasp, he collapsed.

The Lycan form melted away, leaving Akecheta human once more. His eyes fluttered shut as darkness claimed him, but this time, he wasn't afraid.

He had escaped. He had survived. And now, the real fight was just beginning.