Kaelith and Zevryn could not believe what they were seeing. From the shadows of the woods emerged not a threat but a woman.
She stumbled forward, her body battered, her clothes torn and stained, her steps unsteady as if the earth itself threatened to consume her with every falter.
Her eyes were hollow, glazed over, as though she were desperately searching for something.
For one haunting moment, she did not see them. Instead, her gaze latched onto the River Elandor shimmering under the pale light of the moon.
Her lips curved upward in the faintest, almost childlike smile as though the waters promised salvation. But that fragile hope shattered in an instant.
A ragged scream tore from her throat, sharp and raw, before her knees buckled. She began to collapse, her body crumpling like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
Zevryn's body moved before his mind could process. He could no longer restrain himself. In a blur, he was at her side, catching her just before she struck the earth.
His arms wrapped around her instinctively, cradling her against his chest with a desperate gentleness that betrayed the storm in his heart.
Her head lolled in his hold, her breath shallow, her lashes fluttering weakly before she fell unconscious. Zevryn sank to the ground with her, lowering her carefully, as though she were something precious, fragile, and long lost.
His arms shook as he adjusted her limp form, tucking her head into the crook of his arm, unwilling to let her slip away even now.
Shock and uncertainty warred violently in his chest, each heartbeat like a hammer against his ribs.
Kaelith was there in seconds, dropping to his knees beside them. His eyes widened, his lips parting as though words themselves refused to form. He, too, was caught between disbelief and recognition.
"Liliath…" Zevryn's voice broke into a whisper, a trembling confession carried away by the river's quiet song. His hand rose hesitantly, trembling as he brushed strands of her brazen hair away from her face.
His fingertips lingered against her skin, terrified that she would dissolve like smoke in his hands. He looked up, eyes wild with fear and hope, seeking Kaelith's confirmation that this was real and not another cruel dream gnawing at his sanity.
"She looks exactly like Liliath," Kaelith breathed, his voice tight, his gaze locked on the woman's delicate, unconscious features.
Those words anchored Zevryn's crumbling mind. She was real. This was no phantom conjured from grief, no fragment of his recurring nightmares.
The pounding in his chest grew louder, nearly unbearable, as if his very soul trembled at her presence.
Every second with her in his arms unraveled him further. His heart cried out for her voice, her laughter, anything. He could feel himself breaking, splintering apart.
Her face, so achingly familiar, dragged every wound he had buried back into the open. Years of haunting nights, suffocating memories, and buried agony surged to the surface in a tidal wave, making his entire body shiver as though his torment had returned to life.
"How… how can this be?" Zevryn whispered hoarsely, his eyes never leaving her face. "Who is she? And why—why is she like this? Who did this to her?"
His arms tightened protectively around her fragile body, as if even the air might steal her away.
His heart beat frantically, louder and louder, the sound of a man who had spent every fragment of a second across the years yearning for one impossible thing: to hold her again. And now, impossibly, fate had placed in his arms someone who bore Lilith's face.
"She… she doesn't seem to have any regeneration powers or protective strength. How is that possible?" Kaelith whispered, his voice heavy with disbelief as his eyes scanned over her battered form.
His brows furrowed deeply, confusion knitting across his features. "Every creature must bear at least one of the two. She cannot be Liliath—she had the strongest protective power among all of us siblings."
His words lingered in the air, bitter with doubt, yet Zevryn's arms only tightened around her limp body. His crimson eyes burned with resolve as he turned sharply toward Kaelith.
"Give me your sword, Kaelith," Zevryn demanded, his tone low, urgent, carrying a dangerous edge. "I will cure her with my blood."
Kaelith's head snapped up, stunned by the declaration. For a moment, he just stared at Zevryn, struggling to form a response.
He knew the truth of it: the blood of a Lycan as powerful as Zevryn's could heal wounds instantly, restore strength, even mend what seemed broken beyond repair.
But the cost, it would draw directly from Zevryn's already weakened body, perhaps worsening the torment that had been tearing him apart since that cursed night.
"Zevryn, wait!" Kaelith's hand hovered uncertainly near Zevryn's shoulder, torn between duty and desperation.
"You're already in so much pain. You haven't even stepped into the River Elandor as Elder Yasoria commanded. That was why we came here, to heal you!" His voice cracked with the weight of his fear, he didn't know what to it was as if he had to choose between two most important things to him.
For a heartbeat, Zevryn froze, his hand trembling where it clutched the unconscious woman. But then his eyes flickered with sudden realization.
The pain, the suffocating agony that had been gnawing at his soul, that constant torment that felt like his very essence was being torn from him was gone.
"I…" He drew in a sharp, unsteady breath, his gaze snapping to Kaelith. His voice trembled with disbelief. "I no longer feel it. The torment, it's vanished. It's as if the thing clawing at my soul has… disappeared."
Kaelith's eyes widened, shock flooding his features. "What?" His voice was almost a hiss, disbelieving. "But… but how is that possible? Elder Yasoria said the force battling within you was ancient, something so powerful only the waters of Elandor could ease it! How can it just… vanish?"
"I don't know," Zevryn admitted, his jaw tightening as his gaze returned to the fragile figure in his arms. His eyes softened with desperation, haunted by the uncanny resemblance she bore. "But I will not waste another second questioning it. I need to know who she is."
Without waiting for Kaelith's reply, he reached out suddenly, his movements sharp with impatience. He snatched the sword from Kaelith's scabbard with a fluid motion, the metal singing softly in the air.
"Zevryn—your majesty!" Kaelith called, startled, his voice tight with worry as he watched the king's hand angle the blade toward his own palm. "Be careful! Don't act rashly. Your strength—"
But Zevryn's mind was already set. He pressed the blade to his skin without hesitation, slicing into his palm until crimson droplets welled up, sliding down his hand.
The sight of his blood falling was stark against the pale glow of the river's reflection, heavy with unspoken promise.
Kaelith's throat tightened, his chest aching with the storm of emotions raging inside him, fear, awe, disbelief, and a fragile thread of hope.
Despite his warnings, despite his terror, he could not deny the same gnawing need within him: to know the truth.
To know who this woman truly was—the stranger who looked so impossibly, so hauntingly, like his little sister, Queen Liliath Veyre of Nythera.
"**"
Author's note:
Hey everyone~ (｡♥‿♥｡) Sooo, I'll have to go premium at some point in the future, and I need your help! Out of all the chapters so far, which one had you thinking: *"I NEED to read the next chapter right now!!"* (≧◡≦)
That's the moment I'd like to lock as the first premium chapter, so the next one after that would be premium. Please help your poor little author decide (╥﹏╥) — I promise to send you lots of virtual hugs and kisses in the next chapter! (づ￣ ³￣)づ ♡.
_Your xuv