ISKERA
Day 7 of rationed feeding. The light filtering through the grime of the attic window is a sickly, bruised yellow.
My stomach has stopped cramping; it's moved past hunger into a numbness that makes my head swim every time I blink.
I've eaten twice this week. Four squares of the chocolate Seren left, and a crust of bread so hard I had to soak it in melt-water from the window frame to swallow it.
I am fading, I think. Just like the stories said I would. I welcome it actually.
The bolt slides back, getting my attention. I expect the guard with a tray of slop, but it's the rustle of silk that announces my visitor.
Seren.
But she isn't the glowing bride-to-be anymore. Her hair is unwashed, her eyes are rimmed with red, and her skin looks sallow.
The triumph that usually radiates off her has curdled into something frantic.
"Seren, are you okay? You look terrible," I croak. The words are dry, but they have a bite to them I can't seem to suppress.
"You are evil," she whispers sinisterly after a moment of silence, after shutting the door behind her.
I jerk back, the accusation hitting hard. "What?" No more pretense? Something must have really happened.
I watch her advance toward me slowly just as before. Then——
Crack.
The slap sends my head spinning to the side.
Before I can even register the sting, she hits me again. And again. The copper taste of blood fills my mouth as it drips from my nose, staining the dirty collar of my dress.
"You did this!" she screams, her face contorting.
"You brought death to the pack! People are dying, Iskera! Their skin is turning black, their lungs are filling with black smoke. Even the healers can't stop it. And now my wedding to Rian has been postponed!"
Hot anger boils through my weakness. I try to push myself up, to swing back, but I'm too slow.
Seren lunges, shoving me with her Alpha-born strength. I fly backward, my temple slamming against the iron frame of the bed.
The world goes white for a second.
"They're killing you tomorrow," she sneers, looming over me. She looks down at me with a hatred so pure it's almost beautiful.
"The Bloodline Ritual. The Goddess will choose the true daughter——the pure blood. I will give a pint of my life to create the cure, and then... then we purge the rot. We kill the curse that started this. We kill you."
"I... I didn't..." I try to speak, but my voice is a ghost.
"I've always wanted to put you down," she hissed, leaning in close. "To see you beneath me."
I look at her, my vision blurring. Beneath you? I want to laugh, but it comes out as a wheeze.
I've lived in the dirt since I was born. I've slept beneath her feet for more than a decade. How much further down could I possibly go?
I watch her, but I realize I'm not the only one watching.
Behind my eyes, something else is there. A shadow that has uncurled in the pit of my stomach.
I'm confused, for it doesn't feel like a wolf. It feels like the void between the stars.
I swallow, pondering its essence, while aware that it is watching Seren with the hunger of a predator looking at a fly.
Seren meanwhile raises her hand again, her face twisted in a snarl. "One last mark to remember me by—"
She swings.
I don't think. I don't even move. My hand, rather, moves for me.
It's too fast. My fingers wrap around her wrist with a grip that feels like iron bands.
The look on Seren's face-—the pure, unadulterated shock——is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Let go," she gasps, her eyes widening. "Iskera, let…"
I fling her hand away.
But I don't have the strength to throw a wolf.
And yet… Seren doesn't just stumble. She flies. She hits the far wall with a sickening thud and collapses onto the bed I just vacated, the wooden slats groaning under the impact.
What the hell?
I stare at my hands. They are trembling, but there's a faint, dark mist clinging to my skin, dissipating into the air like smoke.
"What... what was that?" I whisper.
The door bursts open.
My father and stepmother move into the room as a unit, already looking alert. Did Seren mindlink them?
They see Seren crumpled on the bed, sobbing, and me standing over the wreckage with blood on my face and… most likely, the darkness in my eyes.
For my stepmother shouts: "You monster!"
My father moves like a blurred streak of rage. The first punch shatters my vision. The second breaks a rib and sends me to the floor.
I'm too shocked to even contemplate fighting back.
He beats me until the floor is slick with my blood. He beats me until my lungs can't find air.
"Tomorrow," he growls, his voice sounding like it's coming from the end of a long tunnel. "Tomorrow, the Goddess takes what's left."
As darkness finally claims me, the shadow in my mind doesn't retreat. It wraps around my heart, keeping it beating.
Sleep now, little vessel.