Where Light Dies

47. The Threads of Fate

"What the - this woman fucking tortures you! Why the hell are you standing with her -"

"Don't make me do this Rey."

Steam engulfed the monster's gruesome frame, making his fellow campers cower in fear.

-- Heatherhills, Base Camp -- 2017 --

The bane was fuming over, the wounds on his bare body slowly patching up in the exact same order they were ripped apart. His pale complexion had been smeared in dark crimson, jet-black hair plastered onto his face that was now drenched in a concoction of sweat and blood. A wave of humidity swept through the darkness, adding to the tension that stretched like a string pulled tight from both ends. The wound on his chest continued to stay open though, completely unaffected by his healing factor. Despite his seemingly blank composure, he was ready to bear his blades, any moment that he saw fit.

"Blake..."

Reyna was shocked, no, dumbfounded even. In the heat of her own misfortune, she'd forgotten the dread that surrounded Blake's very existence. He was a tool, just a means to an end bound conveniently by a single tether that held him dearly to the humanity he sought to preserve. Beth.

"Go," Sarah spoke casually into her transmitter, finding muse in girl's pointless squabbles.

No. Your time as a puppet ends here. Reyna had enough.

"You're not stopping me Dayton," she hissed, the frigidity of her gaze matching the bane's intensity.

"You won't land a single hit."

Blake's words sent a tremor through the hearts of every single camper gathered there. His tone wasn't threatening. It was almost as if he was stating a fact.

"And just how far will you go?" asked Reyna, turning back to Sarah as she sheathed her blade. Reyna paused for a second, glancing over her shoulder to look at the bane that stood behind her. "Will you kill me for it?"

"If I have to."

Reyna's eyes went wide. Her gaze shifted back to Sarah, whose face housed the darkest of smiles she'd witnessed in her life.

She'd been wrong. Blake had gone too far to come back, tangled in a mess of strings that Sarah had woven carefully over the years. A mixture of fear, duty and obedience made sure that he had no free will to begin with, his sister's happiness being a mere catalyst to his servitude. Beth had always been Blake's only reason to carry on, his only link to a set of emotions that could be called human. Sarah had been playing with his mind, showing him how close she was to her daughter, and how sad Beth would be of she was to lose her mother.

His life was an endless cycle of torture, pain, hatred, and acceptance. A curse that had taken its toll on his mind, leaving nothing but a plain lump of clay ready to be shaped however his captor wished.

Blake was Sarah's toy.

Reyna's lowered her gaze, fists clenched as she admitted defeat. He couldn't be saved, not unless Sarah was killed. Even there, Sarah had played her cards right. She always remained in Blake's squad whenever the packs were split up despite being completely able to hold her own against a couple of darks. While most people took it as the preservation of their leader, Sarah had probably chosen it as a means of security, a sort of insurance that implied that any one who aimed for her head had to take Blake's first.

The woman was the devil's incarnate itself.

Reyna sheathed her blade, walking ahead of the pack that stood frozen to their feet from fear.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sarah snapped, still proud of turning the odds in her favour.

"I remember the way we were brought here." Reyna's words were barely audible, her rage clear as crystal in her tone. Her eyes darted to Blake for a second, meeting with his seemingly blank gaze. While anyone else would've misinterpreted his expression for one of arrogance, Reyna choose to believe what her heart told her.