Shadow Bands

XXXVII. Satellite

It wasn't long after the failed attempt to revive Holtres that the reinforcements from Kogeer arrived. They had swept the city clean of demons. Even the hellhounds in the sewers weren't safe from their extermination.

Joanne had arrived with the second wave of reinforcements. Her army was swift and organized. An obvious result of her regiment.

Lyra stood at the edge, watching the birds eat the devil's flesh. Kaelen had morphed back in his human form to avoid suspicion, even though his bare feet had replaced his boots and his gauntlets were nothing but hanging scrap metal.

Her eyelids drooped. The long hours of the night were catching up to her. There was no wind, yet she felt her body sway. She felt sick. What has her life come to?

Kaelen stood by her, and she leaned her head onto his shoulder. A tear glided down her cheek. If there was one absolute she could put her finger on, it was the fact that defeating the Grand Prexy would put an end to all of this.

"Wherever you go, I will follow you. No matter the peril, no matter the riches. I will be there with you," said Kaelen. His gaze lost on the apparent horizon.

"I'll need you, Kaelen." Her words were slurred, and her weight grew heavier as she relied on him for support. "Please don't leave me like everyone else."

Kaelen caught her, holding her in his arms. She was fast asleep. He couldn't help but study her delicate features.

"You don't know it yet, but you have my heart."

· · ─ · ◯☽✵☾◯ · ─ · ·

Draven's sudden appearance in Nasherux startled the guards. Their polearms pointed at him until they figured out who it was. The unhealed deep chest gash revealed magic imbued the Lycan's blade.

The sound of sharp heels grew near. It was Grimoire, seeing what the commotion was about at her front doorstep. She wasn't wearing her usual attire. Rather, she had either just woken up, or she was getting ready for bed.

"You look pitiful, boy." She said, crossing her arms. "I take it you have failed me."

Draven didn't respond. It wasn't that he couldn't, but he felt as if any answer would summon her wrath. She pivoted and returned to her chambers. Before she entered, she looked back at him.

"I suppose this wasn't a total failure. Come, boy, I can't have one of my generals look weak to his peers."

It took a moment, but he gathered his fleeting strength to stand. His blood had already pooled on the floor. Her eyes darted at the mess, then fluttered back to him. Turning her back to him, she continued into her room.

Of course he followed. His legs were weak from blood loss. The doors closed once he crossed the threshold of her chambers. He saw Grimoire standing by the arches that led to her room. Her hand gestured for him to go in.

Shuffling his feet, she grew impatient. Darkness swallowed him, but quickly dissipated. Now he lay on a cushion that smelt of roses.

"You have sustained a serious injury. I'm very surprised." She held out her hand over his wound. Her taloned finger brushed across his exposed flesh, then tasted his blood. "Help me remove your clothes."

And so he did. After throwing his coat and shirt onto the floor, she examined his body. He wasn't the scrawny boy she first met. Her hands running up his abdomen proved that.

"You seem conflicted," she said, letting her Source flow from her hand and into his wound. "Was there something that happened in Windermere that. . . upset you?"

Her voice was gentle, yet demanding. Like a wind miles away from a hurricane.

"There was nothing, your highness." His voice steadied as his wounds mended. "My loss is my own to bare."

"But your loss is not physical, no. I sense something else."

She knew as if she watched him the entire time. His eyes closed. If only doing so would prevent her from creeping into his mind. But he tried anyway.

"She was there." His eyes opened, admitting before she could dive deep into his mind.

"Ah," she sounded. Her emotions were ambiguous. "Your feelings for her are strong. Perhaps love is your desire."

"I still can't answer that question, your highness."

"You don't have to. It's written all over your face. . ." Her finger ran along his bottom lip. "Perhaps I'm not clear enough when I tell you that you are mine."

"I have devoted my life to serve you, your highness."

Grimoire glared down at him. Her eyes pierced the depths of his mind. Then she spoke. "Your life, yes. But your heart has yet to be swayed."

Her hair faded to a red color, exactly like Lyra's. Even her facial structure changed. Draven felt his heart skip a beat as her thumb brushed his lip, and her eyes studied his unguarded expression.

"I see now," she simply said, the sound of her voice throwing him off. "Show me what you would do if I were her."

Just that command alone made him twist, putting Grimoire under him. His arms were outstretched beside her, and his eyes gleamed. What would he do with Lyra at this moment? He hesitated, staring down at her body.

"I can make this easy for you."

Her hands glided up his body and to his jaw. Her leg bent, leaning against his side. She lifted her head and their lips met. Draven let himself go. Whatever held him back didn't bother him anymore.