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♞ C H A P T E R T W O ♞

" heart made of glass, my mind of stone
tear me to pieces, skin to bone. "
- lovely by billie eilish ft. khalid -

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" two souls.
one black. completely tainted.
one gray. completely lost.
both trying to fill the
missing pieces
within their hearts. "

ERIS COULD FEEL THE POISON coursing through her veins, her heart pounding erratically in her chest. She was panting, gasping desperately for air. Her lungs felt as if they were contracting, barely allowing any air flow through. A burning pressure built in her abdomen, flowing all the way up to her chest. She wanted to scream, cry, and shout all at once. The fiery pain emitting from the poisoned wound of her abdomen spread throughout her entire body, though it seemed to focus more on her back and shoulders—the scars there feeling as though they were going to burst open.

"You must learn scripture, child!" her aunt's voice boomed as the woman slashed her niece's back with a whip. Eris didn't make a sound, her head bowed and eyes closed as she focused on anything but the pain. "You are an abomination in the eyes of God! But He will forgive you, child! If you just turn from your wicked ways!" Another fresh, bloody lash formed across her back, fiery pain flowing through the new wound and throughout her whole body.

Eris's hand subconsciously reached up to touch her covered right shoulder, where one of the more prominent scars were etched into her skin. Wolf Folk had to ability to fully heal wounds without leaving scars...unless wolfsbane was involved.

The scars seemed to burn her, leaving a firm reminder of why she'd gotten them in the first place.

Demon-born she was. Demon-born she shall be.

She finally thought she was safe to rest, but just as she sat down, the echo of voices boomed into her ears. She winced at the loudness of them, immediately standing up and continuing her slow and painful trek through the forest yet again. She couldn't be caught by Red Paladins in her state. She wasn't sure she'd have the strength to prevail with Wolfsbane in her veins.

So, she pushed herself to keep going despite her aching body commanding for her to stop.

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RED PALADINS LAID SCATTERED across the forest floor, blood soaking the ground beneath and beside their dead bodies. One's head was cracked open, his brains spilling out and mixing into the dirt of the earth. Two others' heads were cut clean off, separated from their respective body so nobody was to tell which head belonged to which body. One had claw marks slit across his neck while another had claw marks embedded in his chest. One man's head was barely hanging on to his neck, his eyes still opened in shock, while another had a slit throat. Another laid face first on the ground with a hole straight through his back—what kind of monster would kill someone with their back turned? The Weeping Monk couldn't say anything though, as he had done the same before. The human blood reeked, and the Weeping Monk fought the urge to pinch his nose closed.

The last man—the leader of the novice group of Red Paladins—laid dead on the ground, dark blood spilt from the wounds on his abdomen. There was five holes in his flesh—one the perfect size of an arrowhead and four others fitting the claws of a wolf.

He could smell her. Her scent littered the campground. She must've not been able to conceal it while fighting. The scent of pine hit his nostrils, and he fought the pleasant smell away. It was her scent, not the scent of her kind—Wolf Folk, they were called—but her specific scent unique to her. Tears welled into his eyes due to how strong her scent was, but he was quick to push them down before Father Carden could see.

"One woman did all this?" he asked lowly—mostly to himself. He was thankful his gray cloak hid most of his face so that Father Carden could not see the mixed emotions he was having. He had heard of the destruction and chaos the woman had caused, but he had never seen it firsthand.

"Not a woman. The Demon Wolf," Father Carden spoke, picking an arrow up off the ground near the leader Red Paladin.

The Weeping Monk clenched his teeth at the name they called her. He hadn't a clue why it angered him so much, but he hated the way they called the last member of the Wolf Folk 'Demon Wolf.'

Father Carden smirked, his eyes radiating a rather dark and sinister emotion as he ran a hand over the arrow. Not the emotion of God, that was for sure. "Laced with Wolfsbane. She's injured, that's for sure." He turned to face the Weeping Monk. "You can track her."

The Weeping Monk simply nodded, not really sure how he felt about the whole situation.

"Let's find her, then."

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        THE PAIN WAS STILL GOING strong, and Eris wasn't sure how much more walking she could muster. Her entire body burned, her muscles ached, and every breath she took caused sharp pains to radiate through her chest. She wanted to stop and rest and just give up, but she couldn't. They would be searching for her soon...if they weren't already.

She could not be caught by Red Paladins. She'd be killed straight away—well, after they tortured her with Wolfsbane first. That was not the way she planned on going out...not that she knew how she wanted to go out in the first place. She just didn't want to go out in general.

Before she could stop herself, Eris's foot stepped on an animal trap. She froze in her step, cursing herself for being distracted by her pain. If she was to lift her foot off of the plate, the trap would cut into her leg. She could not let that happen.

She would have to be faster than the trap if she was to get out of it before it pierced her leg. Under normal circumstances, it would be easy, but being weakened by Wolfsbane changed everything. It would take a lot of her strength to move her leg at a speed quick enough to not get caught by the trap.

She sighed. This was the absolute last thing she needed at the moment. Red Paladins were probably combing the woods for her as she simply stood there in an animal trap.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out slowly, attempting to slow her racing heart and ignoring the pain coursing through her veins. She instead focused on the sounds of the forest around her—the birds chirping, the leaves blowing in the wind, a nearby deer's hooves steadily hitting the forest floor over and over again, and then...the scent of...ash. Ash? she pondered in confusion. She shook her head, tuning into the forest yet again.

This time, though, she heard the sound of boots crunching on leaves. Her eyes immediately opened, her vision now red. A fresh wave of adrenaline shot through her veins, and she moved from the trap at a supernatural speed, completely avoiding its sharp edges. She ran and ran and ran, avoiding branches and thorns with ease.

There was one thing the she-wolf was good at, and that was running.

She didn't stop until she was exhausted, the adrenaline wearing off and the pain from the Wolfsbane becoming more prominent again. Her vision began clouding slightly, and she was forced to slide down against a tree trunk before she fell. Her breathing became erratic again, and when she looked down at her arms, she noticed her veins were black. She felt her throat closing up in a panic and began coughing roughly.

Dark spots continued to cloud her vision as she coughed, and soon, darkness took her over completely.

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        WITH HIS HAND SET INSTINCTIVELY on his sword, the Weeping Monk led Father Carden as he followed the Demon Wolf's scent. He had stopped focusing on the Wolf Folk scent she gave off about a mile back and focused only on her unique scent of pine and leather. It was intoxicating and drew him in like a bee to honey. He had to stay turned away from Father Carden in case his face betrayed him at any moment.

The last thing he needed was for the man to think he'd gone soft. He didn't even want to think of the consequences he'd face. He shuttered to himself at the thought.

"I need to rest a bit," Father Carden announced taking a sip from his canteen and leaning against a tree trunk. "It couldn't have gone far injured in such a way."

The Weeping Monk clenched his teeth at the way he called her "it," yet he didn't dare argue with Father Carden. He learned a long time ago that it wasn't a very wise thing to do. Instead, he sent the man a slight nod of understanding.

He inhaled deeply, relishing in the heavenly scent she had left behind in this specific section of the forest. It wasn't until he surveyed the ground closely that he realized why the scent was so strong. There hidden underneath a few small branches and leaves was an animal leg trap. It had been set off, but there was no blood nearby to indicate she'd gotten hurt. Her scent was all over the trap, and he wondered to himself how she'd gotten out of it before it could snap her leg.

He stared off into the distance where her scent trail led, finding himself wanting to follow it. He turned to his horse, running a hand over his mane. "Be still, Goliath," he instructed before turning to head into the forest. Her scent seemed to become a bit scarce, as if she hadn't stayed in one spot for too long. He narrowed his eyes in confusion, barely turning back towards Father Carden to say, "I'm going to go ahead a little further. See what I can find."

He didn't give Father Carden the chance to reply before he disappeared into the forest, following the entrancing scent as if his life depended on it.

He followed the trail for about another half mile before he came across a cloaked body curled up in the fetal position against a tree. He breathed in, taking in the woman's sickening sweet scent that caused his knees to grow weak.

She was obviously unconscious due to the toxin in her body. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if she'd be alright. He couldn't explain the strange pull he had to her, and the urge for him to stay there with her was overwhelming.

He knelt down beside her, taking in what he could of her face underneath her black cloak. There was dried blood on her face, and he knew it wasn't her's just by the scent. Her lips were slightly chapped and were a natural shade of light pink. Her jawline was fairly sharp, and her nose was slightly upturned. He could also see the hint of light brown hair peaking from beneath her hood. For a moment, he found himself wishing her eyes were open, so that he could see what color they were.

He smirked slightly to himself, thinking of how a woman smaller than over half the men in the Red Paladin army could very well massacre the entire army. He had always wondered why they hadn't recruited more women as he knew hell hath no fury like an angry woman. Women were vicious—more vicious than any man could be—and could be insanely manipulative.

He had seen women take down multiple Red Paladins before, manipulating the men to make themselves seem innocent and harmless. Then, they'd strike. Father Carden had called their acts unjust; however, what was just in a time of war?

At the same time, he hadn't ever seen one woman take down a whole squadron of Red Paladins before. Let alone do it multiple times, as Father Carden had mentioned. He hadn't even seen many men do that, nonetheless.

When he heard Father Carden's voice calling out to him, he stood, staring down at the woman once more before heading off towards his father—the man who claimed to have 'spared' him from the fire.

Little did Father Carden know, the Weeping Monk was burning now more than ever.

He came upon Father Carden a little ways from where he had left the older man. "Did you find her?" he questioned immediately, darkness filling his eyes.

The Weeping Monk had no idea where his next words came from, nor what possessed him to say such a thing. "No, Father. Her scent went away. She must've masked it."

Slap.

The sound of Father Carden backhanding the Weeping Monk echoed throughout the forest, and suddenly, he was a young boy again, and all he wanted to do was weep.

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