When hearts meet

Chapter 13 ~ Hanging on by a thread

Her eyes grew wide, and a hole in her heart threatened to consume her whole, as she looked at the man that lay on the couch, white as snow, lips parted in a soundless cry of pain.

Ciana stumbled towards that couch, where an elderly lady was pressing on his abdomen, whispering words, light shining out of her hands.

A gasp of despair pushed itself out of her as she fell to her knees, besides the sofa. "Brion," she whispered with a squeaky voice due to the suffocating tears. "Brion?" But he didn't respond at all, didn't even lift a finger.

She turned around, frantically searching for anyone to give her an explanation.
"What in the name of the Wyrd happened to him?" It was Rhys, who stepped forward, pale as ever, violet eyes sad yet determined. And so he explained.

With every word he spoke, Ciana felt herself deflate like a cold soufflé, her knees buckling even as she sat.

"Fuck..." Rowan whispered breathlessly. "So it's worse than we all anticipated," her mother concluded. A whimper left the High lady's mouth, and Aelin walked towards Feyre to pull her into a comforting hug. Ciana knew only her mom could feel what Feyre was going through, as she had experienced something alike.

Ciana was running and running and running, screaming of happiness as Fleetfoot followed her, Fenrys in wolf form chasing her around a flowery field.
They loved to play together, play hide and seek, which she always lost, against the sharp eyes of the wolf of Terrasen.

Now, he was rushing her way, and she fastened her pace. But she didn't realize Fenrys ran faster because he wanted to stop her, not catch her in the game. But she realized too late, and when the ground disappeared and the air sucked out of her lungs, she heard a growl so loud that it reverberated through her very being.

Ground hit her back, and she couldn't breath for a few seconds, eyes shooting to the back of her head.
A cliff, she must've tumbled of a cliff, she thought. She lifted her small hands in front of her, trying to count her fingers, like her father had taught her. But her seven years old mind couldn't count them, as dizziness took over.
All she heard after that, was her mother, crying and lifting her up, making sure she was okay.
And she was, it only took her a month to stop the nightmares of that fall.

Snapping out of that flashback, she still saw that Aelin was hugging Feyre and that Cassian and Rhys were focused on Brion. Even her father looked worried.

"WHERE IS HE?"

A woman's voice, filled with tears and anger entered the room, her Illyrian outfit tightly hugging her small frame, her bouncy brown curls dancing around her like a wild tornado.

Ciana noticed how she rushed towards Brion, eyes fixated on his face. A feral, territorial instinct pushed itself to the surface. That beautiful woman would touch him, would worry about him. And only she was allowed to.

A feral growl, so threatening and all consuming left her mouth, canines bared, as Ciana plunged forward, stepping into the young woman's path, who was now unable to reach Brion. She snarled in that face, those crystal blue, grey eyes, who looked shocked for a second.

Ciana clenched her fists, trying to compose the rage that was entering her being. "You won't come any closer," she snarled. The woman looked flabbergasted for a second, and she felt everyone's eyes on her, especially Cassian's piercing gaze. The young woman steadied her feet, grounding herself. "And who might you be?" She asked. Ciana didn't feel the need to respond, and growled again. "Listen, stranger. I don't have a god damned clue who you are, but you'll step out of my way so I can see what's going on with Brion."