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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺-𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯: 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭
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𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬
Ten Months Later - Aftermath of the Beast of the Dark
BLOOD IS EVERYWHERE.
There is no shortage of it, and there is no shortage of pain and tragedy. Cayden and I, we're doing what we do best - we are taking all their pain to keep ourselves sated. Well, he's sated, I'm insatiable. We figured that out many months ago - I have no limit, and there is not enough pain and tragedy, strife and chaos, in the world to sate me.
Lydia and Derek are by themselves, away from the rest of the Pack. She not long had the pups, and her body is still healing itself, but she fought with us any way. We told her to stay home, but she didn't want to listen - she wanted to help us survive, and, in doing so, we focused all our defence on her and Allison, making ourselves vulnerable. It's not her fault, we did it without her consent.
The gash on my abdomen isn't healing. There is blood continuously trickling from it, and it shows no sign of stopping. I don't have enough strength to heal myself, I can't even use any magic to heal anyone else. My strength is depleted, and my Power is at an all time low. I can't do anything, and I know what is going to happen because I can't.
I fall to my knees and then land on the asphalt, my head smashing it hard enough to make me see stars for a second. Nobody sees me, and I keep it that way as my body goes numb. The warmth from my body seeps into the asphalt, and the blood forms a large pool under me. The way I landed made it tear open further and more blood pour from it.
Lydia screams.
"No, Lydia," I groan, my eyes closing of their own accord. "Don't scream. Please."
Everyone runs over to her.
'Lydia, stop.' I say in her mind. 'Stop screaming. Everything will be alright.'
'Stiles?' Lydia asks, her green eyes flickering over to me. 'Don't. Don't you dare die on me.'
'I'm sorry, Lyds. I wish I could do what you want. Everything will be alright. I promise. We'll see each other again.'
