Blessed By The Moon

Chapter 45

Storm. Nick. Whatever his name was in this life, it was his soul I recognized. I could feel it beneath the madness.

The grass was slick beneath my knees, wet with more blood than dew. I couldn't breathe.

Every gasp I took felt like fire clawing down my throat, like the air itself was punishing me for walking into that house... for seeing what Storm had done.

No, not Storm. Not anymore. That man sitting on the metal chair, smiling through the gore and filth, that wasn't the boy who once made my heart stutter with a single glance. That wasn't the man who kissed my hands like they were something holy.

That was a monster.

And the monster had done it all for me.

I staggered away from the pack house, each step heavier than the last, the ground unsteady beneath my feet. I wanted to scream. To howl. To tear something apart just to make the anger in my chest less suffocating. But all I could do was gasp, like I'd been underwater for hours and finally surfaced to realize the world above was just as cruel.

I dropped to my knees and clutched the dirt. My fingers curled into it, nails scraping rock and root, grounding me before I flew apart.

No one sane could do that. No one sane would call that love.

He said he did it for me, every torn throat, every crushed bone, every blood-soaked scream. He said he eradicated the threat. But who gave him that right? Who said he could choose life and death like some twisted god?

He made me the reason for all of it.

The excuse.

And I hated him for it.

I hated the guilt he'd chained around my neck. I hated that part of me still wanted to believe he had a soul buried somewhere beneath the horror. I hated that he'd killed for me. Not once. Not a few. Dozens.

I couldn't save those lives. But maybe I could save one. That was when I saw the movement, just a twitch, out of the corner of my eye. My pulse spiked. I turned so fast my head spun. At first, I thought it was the wind... but then I saw the arm.

Dragging.

Weak.

Alive.

I was on my feet and running before I realized I'd moved. My boots slipped on the blood-slicked grass, but I didn't stop. I dropped beside the man, boy, really, couldn't be more than twenty. His face was swollen beyond recognition, his jaw hanging slack, eyes unfocused. His chest stuttered with uneven breaths, blood bubbling at his lips.

He tried to speak. No sound came out.

"Don't," I whispered, pressing my hands against the worst of the wounds. "Don't talk. Don't move."

I could feel the power gathering in me, soft and silver, whispering under my skin. It wanted to protect. For once, it wasn't a weapon. It was a balm.

This wasn't about Storm anymore. This was about someone who hadn't died. Someone whose soul hadn't been ripped from them for the sake of love.

He blinked at me, and I knew he saw me, not just as a girl, but as a lifeline.

"I've got you," I said again, barely above a whisper. "I won't let you die here."

I didn't know who he was. I didn't know what side he'd fought on. I didn't care.

Storm had done his worst, now it was my turn, I would find a way to fix what he'd broken, even if it was one soul at a time. And even if I had to drag that monster to hell myself to stop him.

I knelt beside him, pressing my palms to his bruised face, letting the glow of my power seep into his skin. It was automatic now, like second nature, silver warmth flowing through me, into the broken. His injuries began to ease, the swelling around his eye softening, his breath evening out.

He looked so young. Barely more than a boy. Blood matted his hair to his forehead, and the sound of his wheezing breaths pierced something deep in me.

"You're going to be okay," I murmured, brushing hair from his face with fingers that still trembled. "I'm here to help. I'm a healer."

His eyes fluttered open, gray, frightened, dazed.

And then the world cracked open. He screamed. It wasn't confusion, it wasn't pain. It was horror. Raw, soul-deep terror.

"NO!" he shrieked, his body jerking away from my hands as if I'd burned him. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

I reeled back, heart stuttering. "Wh-what? I'm helping you-"

"You're lying!" he sobbed, his voice rising to something shrill and animalistic. "I saw you! You were smiling, when you, when you slaughtered them, my entire family !"

My hands dropped, cold and limp in my lap.

No.

"No," I whispered. "I didn't, that wasn't me"

"You're a monster!" he cried, pressing himself back against a tree trunk, like even the bark could shield him from me. "You- fucking monster!"

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His words sliced through me like blades.

"That wasn't me" I choked.

His breathing turned ragged, and his voice cracked as he tried to speak through the panic. "You... You didn't come to help us," he whimpered. "You came at night. You attacked us."

I froze.

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

"No," I whispered. "No, I didn't. I would never-"

"Yes, you did!" he screamed, pointing a shaking, bloody finger at me. "Your eyes were glowing. Silver light, your hands! You were laughing. We tried to run. You butchered us!"

The trees were too quiet. The air too heavy. Everything slowed down as the boy's words clawed inside my skull, ripping something open.

Silver light.

Laughter.

A hallway soaked in red.

My feet dragging through warm blood, the screams around me turning to muffled static as my fingers pulsed with raw power. Storm's voice, pleading, broken, trying to reach me.

"Echo, stop. Please-this isn't you."

I turned to him, but I didn't see him.

Not then.

Just another figure in my way.

His hands caught my arms, trying to restrain me, to make me see, but I lashed out. My light burst from me in a violent surge, throwing him back. I remembered the crack as his body hit the wall, the gasp of pain he swallowed down before collapsing.

"No," I whispered, stumbling backward now, shaking my head. "No, that's not real. That can't be real."

But the boy's voice was still screaming in my ears. "You killed them all! You enjoyed it!"

A sickening wave of nausea hit me. My vision blurred.

"I-I don't remember," I murmured. "I don't remember"

But I did.

Bits of it. Shards. Blood on my hands. The warmth of power surging, the burn of fury that wasn't even mine.

What had I done?

What had I become?

I fell to my knees in the blood-soaked dirt, my hands shaking, staring down at them like I didn't recognize them. Like they belonged to someone else.

Only they didn't.

They were mine.

And this massacre wasn't Storm's sin.

It was mine.