Rowan
Euodia had an awful smell.
Moth balls. Cheap soap. Almonds. The scent of decay and plague. The odour had infested his dreams, had him retching into porcelain at a God-awful hour. Euodia was recognisable, burnt into his cells with her curse upon his cock. No one knew Euodia better than the seven kings. It would be blasphemous to think otherwise with the halls of Azarius built upon her flesh and blood.
Euodia was dead.
A pit in her chest exposed bone, fat and sinew. Her shattered skull oozed with gobs of brain matter. Death had been pretty on her, and she had been motionless, staring at the vast sky with the emptiest eyes. They had settled the scores when she was alive; they had murdered her with the abuse she had inflicted upon their souls.
An eye for an eye.
There was nothing more to do but to torch her corpse.
Revenge had been bittersweet when Rowan had landed one last kick on her face with rage so hot that he felt as if he might explode. She deserved it. The jokes had them giggling, alcohol warm in their bellies. The awful taste of her blood was familiar on his tongue. Her heart had squelched between his teeth, rich and raw, but he'd swallowed it down as if the meat tasted divine.
They shared it like a trophy.
They hung her before their people at the doors of Azarius like a flag, watched as throngs of Omegas spat at her feet as if she were the nastiest animal. Blood dripped from her mangled flesh, she resembled a chunk of meat from the butcher. At the end of it, in the awful whistling snow, it was unfortunate that her body had remained preserved by the cold. Her flesh was a gorgeous, crystallised blue, eyes wide open and whole.
But the hole in her chest was like a void of evil, like the darkness of a Lonely's transformation. It gaped with blood that had darkened into ink. It was akin to Zen's affliction—so ghastly reminiscent of Euodia's death that it had him feeling an awful sting in his belly. He had seen it before.
An eye for an eye.
A tooth for a tooth.
They should have burnt her, cremated her body, scattered her ashes, and allowed a priest to pray for her ghost. Perhaps they had crossed a line by going too far with her body. Zen had been the one to first suggest the option of throwing her out into the pit.
"Why cremate her?" he'd muttered, violence was red in his eyes. Zen had changed that day, transformed from the innocent shaking Omega to a man who craved revenge. "Let those beasts desecrate her body. Let them fuck her corpse. She was lucky we would never stoop that low. But they will."
They threw her out, dropped her into the pit by aircraft and watched as her limbs shattered on impact. She'd looked like a broken doll in the mountain of corpses, and oddly, Rowan had watched with a strange bitterness on his tongue. The goodness of his heart had murmured at the back of his mind. They might have killed her, but after it all, they were still just as empty, just as lost, just as broken.
And now, Zen claimed that Quinn was Euodia.
Quinn, who changed his life, bled colour into his days, and made him remember the person he was before.
To call Quinn Euodia was to call her the worst fucking insult in the world.
"What are you talking about?" Rowan said, his voice escaped him like a thin, angry knife.
Quinn's scent was crisp, gooey, mouth-watering perfection. It had him melting for her, it had him crawling on his knees. It had him sobbing. And she was so achingly beautiful, sun-warm glow, lush lips, soft skin and the thickest dark hair. Her eyes were always milk and honey. He supposed he should be concerned for his mate, should allow him to ramble in his last moments. But Rowan was shaken. Two of his lovers were dying before his very eyes. And he hated to admit it, but his conviction in his love for Quinn pulsed stronger than ever. A coil of jealousy even strung its way into his heart.
Soulmates.
Zen and Quinn.
Why wasn't Rowan her soulmate too?
Zen's eyes settled upon his, orbs as red as blood. There was insanity upon him, and Rowan hated that he had her pinned to the ground, hated that there was a look of defeat in her body language. Her face was turned away, and he couldn't see the look on her face. Danger. His wolf howled within him. His mate was in danger. His mate tried to kill herself. His lovers were dying.
Zen was making it worse.
Zen, who had been brought back to life by her loving hands.
Zen repeated his words through lips stained crimson with her blood. "Quinn is Euodia." That had fury surging through Rowan's veins. How dare he? How dare he say that? And then his anger simmered, fell from its roar into a quiet thrum. Or perhaps he was saying it all just because he didn't want them to kill her. And that had a rush of strange relief running into his veins.
"Bullshit," Helios spoke before he did, an echoing horror pulsed in his voice, a mirrored rage. "Zen, you're not well." He moved closer, hands stretched out. "Let her go, and we will figure things out."
"Taste my emotions," Zen snarled back, his voice had an edge of darkness that boiled. "Fucking taste it."
Helios approached shakily, hands raised. "Zen, just let her go. I promise you we won't kill her for her heart. So does it really matter now?"
"I AM NOT FUCKING CRAZY," Zen snarled, panting hard. There were tears in his eyes. And Rowan's eyes widened. He seemed pale, shaking as if he could pass out. "Elysian saw us in her blood; he saw us feasting on her heart like monsters. We ate her heart and I'm still fucking dying. A mating vision is always true, you know it is, and you know what it means."
There was a quivering inhale then, a violent tremble within him, and then a rush of even more tears. Rowan stared, breath stolen from his lungs. His world seemed to stop, pins and needles stabbed into his flesh.
"She remembers, and she thinks we're monsters. It holds her back, we are her greatest fear." Zen sank against her, head pressed to her chest. "Why didn't you run?" he whimpered on her chest, dry sobs shuddering through each violent breath. "Why did you stay?"
Rowan blinked, stared at Quinn, begging for her to respond, to yell, to laugh. The silence seemed to stretch, and his lips curved upwards into an almost laugh. But she finally turned her head to look at Zen, defeat in her eyes, a sudden rawness in those warm depths.
"How could I?" Her voice was soft, but there was no denial, no anger, no rage. His lips parted in disbelief. "You know what you mean to me." There was defeat in her voice, and Rowan's heart felt as if it had stopped. Hyperventilation crawled up his throat. What the fuck was this? What are they talking about?
His mind seemed to freeze. Helios! His brain demanded. Helios will confirm this—He whipped his head to his mate. But the fey was silent, and Rowan stared, heart pounding in his chest as he begged in his mind for Helios to speak. The fairy could read the truth. The fairy could end these lies. But his mate turned to look at him with a ghastly look of horror.
Truth.
There was a low exhale.
Rowan cursed under his breath, eyes spinning back to Quinn. Euodia? How could it be? Delusional. Blasphemy. Fucking bullshit. He blinked, memories trying to piece the face of the woman he loved with the corpse. Her eyes, her face, her hair. Her voice. It was so different—The mirage shivered and melted into one. Her mannerisms had thrown him off, Euodia's death had made him so fucking sure that it couldn't be possible. He inhaled sharply; his heart throbbed in his chest.
There were similarities.
But what did that mean? What did that make her? His blood was roaring in his ears, pulsing in his throat. It didn't matter. He assured himself. It didn't matter because Euodia was dead. They made sure she was dead. They hanged her on the gallows. She was swinging in the snow. And Quinn was Quinn. It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. His brain seemed to fizz, desperation clawed at his throat. Zen was crying so hard he seemed to be unable to breathe, shuddering against her as if weeping his apologies on his knees.
Surely, this was divine intervention. Surely, this was excusable.
She was just a twin.
Quinn just looked like Euodia.
The panic grew in his chest.
What were they talking about?
Helios's voice was but a whisper as if his voice burned. "But what does this mean?"
"I told you everything. I woke in her body in another world," Quinn spoke then, with her eyes on the ceiling. "I'm from another fucking world borrowing the corpse of your worst enemy. I was just a normal, average citizen crushed by a damn bus. Sure, maybe I parked illegally once. Maybe I did jaywalk too many damn times. But I did nothing to deserve this hell. I did nothing."
"You…You are alive?" Helios seemed to struggle with the concept. "Y-you have a heart?"
"I'm not a zombie…" She blinked rapidly, seemed to search for answers. "I was completely healed when I awoke. It just sucked to find myself in that pit."
Truth.
Rowan believed her. There was no denying her alien abilities, it was true that Quinn was not Euodia. And if she did not wake with her wounds, then how could she be the woman they had tortured so mercilessly? She was just a clone, just some kind of divine intervention in the world. His nausea seemed to subside, and he swallowed thickly. A smile stretched across his lips from the shock of it all. He didn't know what to do, what to think, what to feel. But he felt a little better, his hackles no longer raised. The agony was replaced by a strange attempt to soothe his racing heart.
She closed her eyes. "It sucked even more when I have to remember everything she experienced."
Truth—Rowan's mind paused, eyes darting to hers. A coldness seeping through, and suddenly, he couldn't smile. His voice came out of him, cracking along the way, choking out from him as if strangled from his throat. "Everything?" A million memories spun in his mind. His lips parted, gasping in horror.
No.
No.
No. No. No. No. No.
Her expression fell, turning from hardened stone to a broken dam. The hand on Zen's cheek shook. "It hurts me to remember how she hurt you all. How she treated you all like nothing." There were tears in her eyes. And with it came a pulsing in Rowan's head. "Why is it my weight to bear? Why do I have to feel guilty in her place? And I feel so, so guilty." Her voice broke. "I feel like I deserve it. I deserve this."
Helios's sob was choked, overwhelmed. Rowan couldn't speak. Zen remained collapsed against her.
"It tears through me," she said as if it were just an offhanded remark. "I try to forget it, and sometimes I can when I do things. Memories can sometimes feel like stories. But when it comes to me, it hurts."
Zen's words were sharp, an awful quake within them. "Then you remember everything I did to you?" He stared at her then, lips parted, a broken look in his eyes, a wail starting from his throat. "You remember how I ate your heart. How I tortured you—"
Her face was stoic, schooled into stone. But Rowan could see the dart of fear in her orbs, the swirl of terror. Terror that Euodia had never once shown on her face when they'd hurt her. Euodia was always so cold, so unfeeling, so unfairly lacking in emotions. Euodia deserved it. But Quinn—
And it felt as if he were pulverised then, the world crashing into him as he understood what he was in her eyes. Every hit, every tear, every burn. Behind the face of that monster, behind Euodia's incapability to feel, he had been burning Quinn.
He had been hurting Quinn.
He felt as if his heart was bursting into flames.
The startling realisation was a dagger to his chest, twisted like the most confusing of agony. He choked on it, on the knowledge that she'd seen and experienced him at his worst. At that moment, the memories flooded his mind, and his wolf howled. He'd treated her like how Euodia had treated him. His mind was painfully aware of how much she knew, of everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. Shame choked in his throat.
Rowan had been the devil.
They had all been devils.
He'd given her hell.
Why?" Zen began to sob. "Why?"
There was a cold gust of wind in the air. And Rowan stared, mind frozen at the squeeze of Helios's face, eyes blurring with tears. Quinn was right, they had descended so far, they'd forgotten their humanity. And now everything seemed to be burning into his chest so much that he couldn't breathe. He'd tortured his Alpha; a normal person would have begged for death much earlier on. Euodia did at the end of it all, once they'd sold their souls, did things they never spoke of ever again.
They did things he'd never do to another.
And now he knew he'd done it to someone he loved.
Rowan did not want to remember, but now he did. And how ugly, how awful those memories were, buried in his head. Memories he wanted to forget. He'd changed after that, burnt by his actions, poisoned by his sins. And now the guilt was suffocating. He was shaking like a leaf, ears ringing, face pale. It was all too much, and Rowan felt heavy with the weight of his wrongdoings. The weight of judgment upon his soul. Ice-cold panic ran up his spine.
There was wrongness burning through his soul.
He felt as if he might crumble.
His chest burned, and he struggled to breathe.
She knew everything.
Rowan with his whip, a cruel smile. Rowan with his fire on her flesh. Rowan with his laughter as water poured into her tongue. Rowan, who tortured her for his revenge. Rowan, who went too far.
His mind struggled to understand it. It was justifiable. She was Euodia then. Euodia deserved to hurt. But Quinn didn't. He panted. Quinn knew him as that Rowan, as monstrous Rowan. She knew Rowan as someone no one could love. He stared at her, then was horrified by it all. She knew the Rowan that he swore to bury and kill forever.
But Quinn wasn't Euodia, his mind begged. So, how could she hate him for all that?
Right?
Quinn's smile was cruel when she spoke. His wolf screamed at her words. "That was why I never intended to cross paths with you, until you caught me in the wastelands."
He couldn't help himself. He had to ask all the wrong questions. The regret was heavy in his chest, stomach churning, suffocating. He spoke slowly like a child. Terror and shame were bursting through him, blistering hot in his throat. "Do you regret meeting us?"
She didn't respond for a long second. Then she looked up with a shake of her head. "No."
Rowan felt as if he could cry.
*
Helios
The voice was back.
It crawled into him, like the wads of ink that escaped his throat. Quinn could staunch Zen's affliction, had saved his life by doing the impossible, but could she save him too? Helios's gaze shivered as it drifted to Zen, propped against her, floating metal arms created with her abilities lifting him slightly. The vampire had wanted to walk, but she'd insisted they stay together. She'd feed him again if he needed her to. And Zen was far too weak to manage another step.
Our mate is hurting. The voice said. She struggles to move. Her body weakens from the blood loss. Her mind breaks. We should be holding her. We should stop her. She gives too much to him. No hearts, no deaths, but how much more until she dies?
Until they come, he replied. Until we're safe.
Our Alpha is dying.
Do you think I want this? He'd snapped back, a growl low on his throat, exhaustion burned through him. His wings hurt.
We need her too.
He knew what it was thinking of, and he could picture it in his mind, the branch of ink in his veins, curling from the centre of his chest. The contaminated dirt that flowed through him, barely stopped by his will to live.
We can't. He swallowed down his tears. She's not well; if she had to feed us too, she'd die.
"Helios?" Rowan's voice startled him, and his head turned to face forward. "Are you okay?"
The wolf was pale, a ghostly colour to his originally sunny cheeks. His eyes were heavy with their knowledge of the truth. And how sickening it was for Helios to taste verity in her aura. The absolute terror that ran through her when she thought of the past. Helios had almost vomited from the revelations.
The wrongness of the world, Helios had wanted to protect her from it, only to realise he was her greatest fear. He hadn't voiced it out to Rowan, but he supposed his mate knew from the look on his face. And now, Rowan was beating himself up for it, tasting like guilt and suffering.
"I'm fine," Helios answered, something caked the back of his throat.
Was he? His gaze shifted back to the two. Or was he just hours away from a transformation? Perhaps he should allow himself to waste away so that she wouldn't carry the weight of his crimes on her shoulders. He swallowed down the tears, looked away when her gaze met his—sharp and oddly soldier-like.
Quinn was so much stronger than he thought. The chaos had left him broken, had him shaking. And yet, a snap and she'd hoisted Zen onto her shoulder, had stomped out, sweeping through their supplies and storing them as if nothing had happened. It was as if her body weren't caked in ink and blood.
We have to go, she'd muttered. They're coming. We can talk more after.
After?
Helios shuddered at the thought of facing the rest of his mates. His mates, who did not know the truth. Could he convince them? Would Klaus accept their words? Would Solar understand? Elysian could. Icarus might believe it. His expression grew cold. Helios had to live, had to survive to tell them the truth. Or else they'd go with their plans once they notice Zen's suffering.
Mates over Quinn.
That was the truth.
If they noticed he was suffering too, the decision would be final. It didn't matter whether or not they had her heart before. Zen's screams would be useless. They'd try again because they wouldn't let Zen and Helios die. All their lives were tied now in a single red line of fate.
He inhaled sharply at that. And the pain had him tripping over a step, his legs going weak. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. It would be so much easier if he died now. It might be better for her, for everyone, if he passed from the journey. Helios's death would be an accident. And Quinn could sustain Zen. But he didn't want to die. He wanted his mates; he just wanted her—
There was a hand around his waist before he could fall, gentle fingers pressed to his side. He was embraced by arms that brought more relief than anything else in the world. He shuddered into it, tears blooming as his eyes greeted Quinn's. She was so strong, jaw tight, brows furrowed as she stared at him with a squint. The concern stretched across her features.
"Helios," she said.
"I'm fine!" he squeaked out, rushing to leave, pushing at her arm.
But her hands were so fucking strong and so fucking good. Her thumb was on his waist, gentle upon the slope of his back. It had him almost purring, eyes glossy with tears. The pain was almost gone with just her touch. And he saw the twitch in her eyes, the way she seemed to suddenly understand. Her hands were reaching for the hem of his new clothes. Clothes that his Alpha had just gifted to him—
"N-no! No!" he protested. He hated himself. He hated hurting her. He hated being the source of her pain.
"Shuh," she hissed. And then his shirt was pulled up, revealing his midriff, and he stifled a wail into his palm. Her cool hands brushed against his feverish back, and the pleasure of it had him shaking. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Beside her, Zen's inhale was noisy as he leaned forward, propped against her shoulder. "Y-you too?" he choked, his voice rising a pitch. "You're dying too?"
Zen's eyes were swollen red; he'd been sobbing in her arms for half an hour and had finally stopped to hiccup against her shoulder. But now he was crying again, eyes welling up with tears. And Helios knew they had seen the butterfly stretch of ink in his veins. The contaminated blood that was hidden under his wings. Rowan rushed over to gasp behind them, a hysterical sob escaped his throat. Helios wanted to cry, face buried in his hands. He was a liability with broken wings, another Omega turning into Lonely.
Helios's words were shaky. "I'm sorry," he couldn't help but say. "I'm sorry—"
The blue was around him then, machine arms revealed, lifting him. And then Helios was in her arms. Her face was so close to his, it had startled him. There was not an ounce of blame in her eyes. His vision grew hazy, his body warm in her arms. Quinn shook her head when he opened his mouth to protest. "I'll think of something."
"I'm sorry," he whimpered.
"It's alright," she said. "We've got this."
"Y-you can leave me—"
"Fuck that," her voice was firm. A strange fire in her eyes. "We're not going to die." She seemed to glow then, a resolution strong in her gaze. "We're going to go home."
"Quinn…" And suddenly her forehead was on his, her eyes locked with his. And he gasped, inhaling the heat of her emotions. The resolution, the determination, the conviction. The sweetness of strength. It glowed like the sun, shuddering with hope, warm in his belly. He swallowed already feeling a million times better.
"You're going to go home," she demanded, her voice compelling his Omega to lie on its back to succumb to her will. "I promise you, I'm going to bring you home." And he wept like a baby in the nape of her neck, happy to be in the embrace of his forgiving Alpha.