Primalcraft: Sins of Bygone days (book 2)

Chapter 24

Elliott snuck into the building. It was dark and damp. The smell of wet wood and ashes filled his nostrils as he closed in on the foul stench that he recognized since last year. He entered one of the few whole rooms from the old house and soon saw what he was searching for.

Ronan sat leaned against the wall with closed eyes. His face was distorted in pain as his chest was still ripped up and bleeding black blood. He coughed and the same ink like blood poured from his mouth and he opened his eyes to give Elliott a grin. Still that confident grin Elliott hated.

"I recognize your smell anywhere, love."

Elliott grimaced as he walked closer. The room reeked of Dark Magic and Ronan really looked like he was dying. A sight that awoke feelings that he thought was long forgotten. He sat down pulled away Ronan's braids from his face before he could stop himself.

"You look like shit," Elliott muttered and Ronan chuckled.

"But I still look sexy as fuck, I might add."

"This mess is hardly something to laugh at."

"So you say. Tell me, what has happened since my encounter with the little witch?"

"You don't know?"

Ronan grimaced as he tried to straighten himself out. "No, I told my pack to find a druid. Obviously, they couldn't since I'm still wounded. It has been silenced for a while."

"They must be afraid of how you would react."

"Oh? so what happened?"

"Mark Rowe killed the five-year-old son of the Head Druid. Ripped the boy to pieces. Matthew Nottingham went to the coven-" A loud explosion erupted from the outside to interrupt Elliott who frowned as the sound of a battle rang throughout the building. "It seems like they found us."

"Then why are you speaking to a dying wolf? Go be the hero."

Elliott looked at Ronan and grabbed onto him.

"What are you doing?"

"You are not getting away with this so easily. This is your mess, not mine. It is your duty as an Alpha to deal with it. So stop being a baby and move it," Elliott grimaced as he gave support to Ronan as they walked towards the exit. Ronan pushed him away with a growl as they closed in on the entrance and Elliott did not wait for him as he saw black mist sneak through the ruins. He ran out in time to hear a loud booming voice.

"NEMAIN!"

Elliott's eyes went wide as he saw the scene in front of him. All witches and wolves had stopped fighting to watch a man erupted from the mist. With fiery eyes and burned skin, the creature tried to strangle Idris Nemain. Ahriman looked furiously at the human in his grasp.

"What the-" Elliott was just about to rush to the scene when green flames engulfed the two figures. A sonic boom echoed throughout the glade as Ahriman was kicked off him with a force not to be reckoned with. Elliott's eyes were mesmerized by the sight of Nemain who turned from the man he had come to know to a man with long dark hair, unkempt beard, and glowing green eyes. He was tall with Celtic tattoos glowing on his skin while green flames danced on his skin. Is this even the same man.

"It took you long enough, Ahriman. I even used my real name and you still don't remember me. Quite insulting," Nemain said lazily. His voice was dark and raspy. A voice that sends a shiver down Elliott's spine. The man would have been quite handsome if it wasn't for those callous eyes. There was nothing except darkness in them.

Ahriman kicked off the debris which had landed on him when he hit the remains of the house. "Who would remember you, fucking brat!"

"Language. There are children present," Nemain sighed. "You always was crude."