Tied By The Moon | Editing

Chapter 30

My bare feet padded against the damp floor of the Bastille, which is where I assumed I was purely because of the conditions. Normally, a pack prison was bad, but it was bearable enough that no questions where raised. This place however, had the scent of death everywhere, there was so much silver around that you could feel the hum of it dancing around your bare skin, and a slight stinging when you breathed in.

My heart thudded in my chest like a base drum, the dimly lit hall doing little to calm my pacing wolf and bristled hair. Blood was spilled on the floor, some dried and old, and some damp, like a execution had happened just moments ago.

The silver smoke took my somewhere else, somewhere deeper in the Bastille, somewhere where the worst of the enemies where kept, locked up and chained, hanging on the loose and thin thread of life that threatened to snap at any moment.

There were wolves in each cell, I knew that, but their faces were blurred and unrecognizable, like the Moon didn't want me to focus on them. I was aware of some that spoke, some that shouted and grabbed at me, some that wailed and begged to be let out, but I ignored them with the soft taste of guilt in my mouth, because something was drawing me to a cell in the corner.

My feet sped up a little, as did my heart. I didn't know what I was expecting, but a part of me already knew what I was getting into when u walked closer and finally stopped a few metres behind.

And there he was, eyes closed and swollen, face bloodied and bruised, and body not what a strong male's body should look like. More like a starving rouge, one that doesn't know the way of the land and struggles to survive.

A choked sob escaped my lips, but he did nothing that told me he acknowledged it. I was even unsure if he was still alive as I took the few steps forward and my voice, breaking and riddled with emotions, spoke to him.

"Alistair?" I said, and my voice echoed out through the walls like a howl through the night.

A movement, sudden and almost untraceable, but a movement nonetheless. A swollen eye peeled open, drained pupils focused on my face, and a guttural sound came from deep within his throat.

The fog appeared again and suddenly I was inside his cell, right next to him. I gulped down my breakfast, falling onto my knees as I watched him with teary eyes. He crawled towards me and laid his head on my knees, lifting up a bony hand to clasp mine. My tears fell on his face, and for a second I thought I saw a glimpse of the old him in a smile.

"Don't...cry." He croaked, coughing out blood a while after. I stayed silent and stroked his hair, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head.