Long ago, I was told that if I ever needed your assistance, you would answer; that all I had to do was call for you, to wish to find you, and I would. I did.

And it didn't save my life, it saved hers; and by doing so you saved my heart.

Moons and clouds have passed since then, yet I find myself in need of your wisdom once again. In need of your sight, in fact, for I have fallen. Deeply. Uncontrollably. And it is now immutable. It will exist beyond the lives of all beings. Regardless, I have no doubt you had already prophesied my current position long before the birth of the bane of my soul. Perhaps even before I was born.

And that's exactly why I can only call for you, why I need your knowledge so strongly. Since only you can foretell the changing of the seasons and the rhythm of one's heart.

Once I told myself I would never surrender, but I have succumbed. I know the future is only in the hands of those who created it, I know beings like myself have no business knowing what is to come. Yet, I fear I will never rise again from this new found darkness unless I acquire what I request.

You must already know what it is I so desperately need. Perhaps the answer to my question was written aeons before I even decided upon writing to you; its response merely waiting for you to send it through our lands. Either way, those are all insignificant queries.

It is no hardship for me to be her friend. I find only joy in her friendship and trust, but I cannot stop myself from wishing for more. I cannot stop my soul from crying for its other half or my heart from being greedy for her love. It is a war already lost, although I wish I could be the strong fighter everyone thinks of me. I wish with my entire being I could stop myself from grieving the unhappened, and from feeling the dissatisfaction of a life I am most grateful for.

I wish her platonic desires were enough for me; but they are not. Not anymore, at least.

You must understand, I cannot help but wonder if one day I will silently endure this pain as she finds someone else to love, or if -miraculously- I'll be able to truly be all her heart asks for.

You already know what essence of the future I wish to be revealed to me, I can only hope you will grant me this selfish wish of mine and put a stop to this most eternally aching war I've been battling.

-With hope as a knot in my throat, your friend.

-

Where war looms, death follows; where hatred rests, poison lays; and where love blooms, life is to persist.

-The response to the question I predicted, from your acquaintance.

-

Lorcan stared at the simple piece of paper that had birthed part of the hell he was now living. If he had to place the blame on a being for causing the despair he was bottling inside of his body, he could start with his mother. For being so naive as to lay down with the piece of shit that was his faceless father. He could then shift it all to the condescending, elitist pure-blood Fae he'd had the misfortune of encountering when he had been nothing more than a child.

His skin sometimes itched with the memory of the rocks they'd thrown at him. His bones sometimes ached with the reminiscing of the ones they'd broken as they beat him. And, most times, his shame still lingered as he reminded himself of what he was.

Therefore, Lorcan could also blame the author of the letter -that was now nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper he wanted to see turned into ashes- for the predicament he was now in. Outside, a white wolf snarled at some soldiers for their posture, its fangs glistening with saliva and the last rays of sunshine still illuminating the day. The wolf's claws came out and scratched at a rebellious student. Perhaps the wolf's reaction was uncalled for, but not utterly unprecedented.

Fenrys had been staying in his animal form for a bit over a week now. It had been the longest of such in years. A shiver rolled down Lorcan's spine as he remembered the events that had led to the last time Fenrys' had refused to shit back into his humanoid form.

And so, as he stared at the wolf's marvellous mane, as he noticed the lines of anger in its face and in the steps it took to circle the soldiers, Lorcan came to the conclusion that; in the end, all fault was solely his.

It always was, wasn't it?

-

"Someone ought to talk with him" Isabella muttered quietly to the males at her side. Gavriel, Rowan and Lorcan were all crumpled in the latter's office. Staring through a window at the white wolf terrorising everyone that dared cross his path.

It was so unlike her friend that she couldn't help but gnaw at her nails to the quick in worry.

As her words were met with silence, she emphasised her thoughts with more urgency and loudness. "We have to"

"Perhaps, we should not" Gavriel mumbled, unfazed.

She turned to look at him with distressing surprise. "What do you mean by that? He's obviously not doing well, and we should-"

Gavriel placed a gentle hand on her shoulder as a way of interruption. She hoped they would mistake her flinch at the touch for her being upset by his words and not for the pain that ignited such a simple touch.

"I am aware that you have yet to witness one of his...tantrums. But this is not unusual for Fenrys. He often tends to surrender to his wolf when he is furious or going through...something. It is easier to deal with unwanted emotions when one is an animal" Based on the way Gavriel spoke of it, Isabella had no doubt the youngest male was not the only one who often succumbed to the protection of his half animal.

"Still, shouldn't we at least try to speak with him?"

"Do you really think he will answer? He is in the state he is right now specifically because he doesn't want to talk"

"Maybe all he needs is to listen" She tried, already helpless.

"Don't worry too much. He just needs space to sort out whatever it is he is going through" Gavriel's eyes shot a quick look to the scenery behind her, where Lorcan still stared through the window at the wolf. "It'll pass"

Isabella grimaced in dissatisfaction at the result of the conversation. She wanted to object, but they had known Fenrys for longer than she had, and so she had to believe that they knew what was best for their lost friend.

"If that's settled, then I think we should take our leave" The Lion spoke to Rowan. "There is much work to do" She did not imagine the somberness in his words.

Still, they abandoned the room in silence. She was so taken aback by Fenrys' attitude and the mood that all the males bore with them that she didn't even have the energy to check Rowan's butt as he walked away. Okay. She did. It was quite impossible not to stare when he wore those pants. Bah. Whatever.

She turned in her heels and forgot all about her inner conflicts as she reached Lorcan's side. Out of all of them, he was the only one -apart from her- who could not resort to an animal to survive. And so she also worried for him as her other friend remained utterly still. Silent in a way that brought a heaviness to her heart.

Isabella let her head rest the side of his body -it would have been more comfortable if it were his shoulder, but he was too unnaturally told for her to do that- and sighed. They both studied Fenrys. She wondered if he knew they were looking.

"What do you think we should do?"

Lorcan's body tensed under her. "Gavriel is right '' He practically choked out.

"I'm sure he is, but I am asking what you think we should do"

"Why me? He and I can barely tolerate each other" There was a wince as he spoke that she caught before he could hide it away.

"That's a lie" She stated. Simply.

"What-?" He breathed, but she interrupted him before he could deny her.

"When we were travelling, he would always complain about how we was cold, and his solution to that was not making a fire, but leaning closer to you"

Lorcan blinked, "That's-"

"You always give him part of your food, even if he doesn't complain about being hungry. And you always make sure to remove all bones from the meat before pretending not to wish to eat anymore just so he will jump on the offer"

He squinted, perhaps in pain. "Don't-"

"I have seen him sew your teared clothes in secret because he knows you won't bother to do so yourself, and because he knows you won't ever ask. I have seen him buy black ink and secretly put it in your bag when you were close to running out of it for dying your shirts"

His mouth fell open. "You knew about that?"

She ignored his ridiculous question, but couldn't help but snort. "I have seen you both fight, you run to the other's aid even before any of you can utter a word of pain or complaint" She wondered if she should go on, if she should truly list all the little things she had noticed in the time they had shared together. "Even in your sleep, the two of you always find a way to the other"

"Stop" He almost begged.

"But most importantly," She made sure to look him right in the eye as she spoke her next words. She hoped that by doing that, she could make him understand that it was alright. That she knew, and that she loved them both too much to care. "People who 'can barely tolerate the other' don't look at each other the way you two do"

Lorcan swallowed, the veins in his neck almost popping due to all the strength he was mastering with his will so as not to -Isabella noted- break down. "That's not-" He faltered.

"I told you once not to lie to me" She grabbed his gigantic calloused hand in hers. Support. "If the truth is too heavy to speak, then let silence fill the space. But do not torment yourself with more lies, they will only burden you more"

The male's gaze went from one of her eyes to the other, in desperation, almost as a caged animal. She recognized it as a way of imploring, although she wasn't sure for what. Isabella squeezed his hands as she noticed his laboured breath. She did it again when she noticed the rhythm of his heartbeat through the pulse in his wrist.

She made sure to maintain eye contact as she loudly breathed in, and then out. She did it twice more before he caught up to her and joined her. They breathed slowly, and deeply for what felt like hours. She didn't stop until his complexion recovered his dark colour.

"I-" He started before he cut himself. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I can explain"

"You don't have to"

His blink was one of surprise and confusion. Her eyes held his contact, through it she tried to let him know what she knew he was not ready to hear. What she knew would hurt him more than help him; words she knew he probably echoed to himself quietly before denying his own emotions with fears and insecurities. A flaw we were all guilty of.

Lorcan nodded, and for the first time, he squeezed her hand back. Slowly, she brought her arms around his body in a supporting embrace. It took him less than she had expected to bring his arms up too, and to hug her back. He held on to her as he tried to contain the shakes of his body. And she merely rubbed his back when she felt the first of his tears fall on her shoulder.

There were words that could not be spoken as much as emotions could not be controlled. Isabella held on tighter as she tried to bury her own.

-

"I've been thinking" Rose said, trying to be nonchalant as she finished organising their freshly picked out herbs.

"Mhm" Louise muttered, absently, checking a book.

"Could I please have some days off?"

"Sure, when?" Louise responded, still too focused on her own things to notice Rose's tactics.

"I wouldn't dare ask for many days, three would be quite fine"

Louise sighed and rubbed her temples. "Rose, when?" She repeated, slightly exasperated.

"The day of the arrival of the Ladies and Lords" She mumbled, quietly and fast. Her gaze was averted from the head healer.

"I certainly hope you don't mean the day of the arrival of all those summoned by the Queen" Louise said, a tint of incredulity in her voice. Rose bit her lip and looked away, guilty. "You must be joking! Their arrival means more soldiers to stupidly fight each other, our work will only increase as soon as they step in our fort. We cannot have the luxury of being short of healers. You know this" She accused.

"I know," The young female pouted. "But my brother is coming and I haven't seen him in so long, I just wanted to be able to hang out with him. He is a soldier, I never know when the last time I see him will be"

Isabella noticed the way Louise's shoulders dropped a bit at the female's words. The healer looked away, a mix of emotions battling behind her eyes. Slowly, she shook her head before straightening her spine and focusing her gaze on Rose. "I am aware of that, and I understand, I truly do. But you must also be conscious of your own responsibilities. You took an oath the day you were appointed as a healer, and you knew what a burden it would be. I'm sorry, but if I allowed you to take those days off I wouldn't be a good Head-healer"

Rose's lower lip began trembling before the girl bit down harder on it. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "But you would be a good friend"

Louise went back to her book. "I cannot be both"

"Alright. I understand" Rose's words came out shakily, and everyone tried to ignore the fact that they all knew she was holding back tears.

-

Isabella stared at the Book in her lap. Lately, most of her experiments had proved successful. She now had filled her whole bag with jars of healing ointments. It had caused her tent to be disorganised, since all of her clothes were now scattered on the floor, hanging from chairs and some were even on Rowan's bed. He hadn't complained, nor asked for her to change it, but she knew it wouldn't be fair if she didn't tidy it up soon.

Still, there was a new idea that had formed in the back of her mind that she couldn't let go of. When she had first thought of it, the book had remained pointedly blank, as if refusing to aid her. But now, as she stared at the new ink, read the words and studied the given drawings as examples, she had made up her mind.

She was going to do it.

It would mean the loss of her morality and, therefore, her mortality; for all the difference between monsters and humans was the latter's ethicality. If her virtue was the price to be lost, all that would be left would be nothing but the sacrifice of her soul for the possibility of salvation.

She had no doubt many would oppose, but if her idea worked, it would mean deliverance. A miracle disguised as a curse.

There was no choice. Isabella traced the lines inked on the page at the same time that she submerged the needle in the pot of ink next to it. She had to do it. But, firstly, she needed to find a corpse.

-

Rowan rubbed at the side of his jaw as he pretended to continue working on his paperwork. His office was empty except for him, therefore, there was no reason for him to pretend in his solitude, but certain habits were hard to let go of.

He dropped the dry feather on his desk. The Queen's summon was starting to drive him mad, and it was just the beginning. If only madness could free him from the distress it will undoubtedly cause him.

He needed a break. He required it. The stones in the walls were starting to form patterns of shadowed figures, and all the hung pattestries were whispering stories in his ears that he did not wish to hear. So Rowan stood abruptly from his chair, and practically ran from his left to open the window closest to him. He didn't even skip a beat as he jumped out the window.

The sound of crashing bones, of clothes being torn, the wind and his blood in his ears took over his thoughts for the whole three seconds it took for his body to shift into a hawk.

Flapping his wings, he flew upright and onto the starry night sky exactly before he could collide with the ground. The current of air welcomed him with gentle touches on his feathers, by singing a melody created especially for him, and by tenderly guiding him through the trees.

Rowan breathed a sigh of elation as he flew through the camp, at times like this, his bloodline's animal form was a blessing. An escape from the maledictions that that same blood brought.

A familiar smell blurred his senses, and it took him less than a minute to decipher where such scent was coming from. He came to rest on top of a tree's branch, his claws leaving marks on the wood as his wings twitched at his sides before stopping motion altogether. He cooked his small, white head to the side and narrowed his eyes at the figure he was intently spying on.

She was as silent as she could be, a throbbing heart that moved like a ghost. Isabella looked from one side to the other before scurrying through a door reserved from those who worked in the kitchen.

Just as he was about to curse at himself for wishing to follow her inside, he was hit with something hard in the head. His eyes followed the acorn that had, undoubtedly, collided with his crane. Rowan managed to evade being hit with another acorn as he looked up at the squirrel positioned in the branch higher from his.

Said squirrel scurried from the trunk to be on his same level, and it raised another acorn -which Rowan had no idea where it had even come from- threateningly. Blasphemous! A squirrel wanted to fight him and Rowan didn't even know why.

He rose in high and moved his wings ferociously, in an attempt at scaring the animal away, but the squirrel merely narrowed its eyes at him and threw him another acorn right between his brow. For fuck's sake!

Rowan was not an animal, he was a mature, grown up male, and so he behaved as such by flying away from that tree -and warrior squirrel- and getting inside the castle through a creak in one of the windows.

The kitchens were solely lit from one tiny jaw with a fire tear that Isabella was holding as she rummaged through different bags laying on the floor. The smell of dead rats hit his nostrils as he quietly hid on top of one of the bookshelves filled with species, herbs, and salts.

It was early in the night, no soldier would even dare come into the kitchens unless it was an emergency. Then, what was she doing here?

"Shit" Isabella cursed, her voice barely above a whisper as she moved to search another corner of the kitchen.

He tried not to make a sound as he used his claws to make a small tear in the bag of cinnamon next to him. He ate some with his beak as he continued watching her strange behaviour.

"Where is it?" She murmured to herself, standing up from the floor and studying the room with her hands at her hips. "Shouldn't it be here?" She asked herself loudly.

Isabella looked around for well over thirty minutes while Rowan occasionally ate more grams of cinnamon. After an hour, he grew tired -and was too full- of watching the scene with no understanding of it.

So he screamed. "Kee-eeeee-arr"

-

Isabella jumped in her place at the unexpected, unknown shriek. She turned on her heels, her heart in her throat and a hand on her chest. She relaxed scarcely a small amount as her eyes caught the rapid fading of a familiar light, only to reveal an even familiar figure.

"What are you doing?" She whisper-yelled at the intruder, or was that what she should call herself?

Rowan cocked his head to the side, the faintest of smiles tilting the curves of his lips upward in a smile he seemed to be trying to contain. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

Isabella looked quickly away. "Where did you even come from?" She asked, in an attempt at distracting him. Her gaze returned to his face, and she proceeded to be unable to contain the question that left her lips as she noticed the slight stain close to his lips. "And what is that on your face?"

He couched uncomfortably and tried to clean it against his shoulder. "That is of no importance"

"Wh-?" She took a couple of steps closer until their chests were practically touching. Rowan evaded her gaze and that only fueled her curiosity. She leaned closer to him, and she followed the movements of his head as he tried to shake her off. "Is that...cinnamon?"

"I highly doubt it" He responded, quickly wiping the only clue off the side of his mouth.

Isabella used her pure strength of will to contain the laugh threatening to erupt from her. "Rowan" She called, slowly. She was smiling so hard her cheeks were already hurting. "Don't lie to me, why- oh my Gods, are you blushing?"

"Of course not!" He was blushing. The tips of his pointy ears were turning red, and a similar colour was now growingly tinting his neck and cheeks. "There's nothing embarrassing about a male and his night food cravings"

"I never said there was." She pinched the skin of one side of his abdomen playfully, and he flinched. Partly in surprise, and partly because he was still trying to hide his unfounded mortification. "Can I laugh now?"

"No" His eyes were still away from hers.

She got even closer, enough that she rested her chin on his pecs as she looked up at him. "Please" She blinked rapidly.

He shot her a quick look before looking away. "No,"

Isabella could not help it. She laughed. It left her lips freely with no permission, and it shook her body in long waves. She tried to be empathetic of Rowan and hid her face against his chest.

Rowan was silently patient as he waited for her to be done laughing. She felt the heat emanating from his body before she actually sensed his hands on her body. They travelled from her back to her shoulders until he was gently holding the tip of her fingers on his hands.

"What were you doing here?" His chest vibrated as he spoke, despite the fact that his tone had been low. "Or were you also stealing cinnamon?"

She laughed weakly against him. She closed her eyes for all the time it took her to decide if she was going to reveal her idea, what it entitled, and what the possible outcome of that could be. Isabella let her forehead rest against his upper body for a bit longer before sighing and looking up.

He cocked his head again, and she couldn't help but find the action both animalistic and endearing. His other form was adorable, and she thought it was incredible how both were him, and to realise it by finding pieces of all he was on both.

Isabella straightened, and took a couple of steps away. Leaving the comforting warmth that his imposing figure was. She made sure to stare directly into his eyes as she said. "I need a corpse"

Rowan's only sign of reaction was a slow blink. "Alright" He said, simply. Ordinarily. Utterly unfazed.

"I-" She shook her head. "What?" She mumbled, like an idiot. Confused and taken slightly aback by his lack of reaction.

"It's okay, I guess" He shrugged, as if he were talking about the weather. "Are there any specifications I should know of? Does it have to be fresh? Animal or human? Big or small?" He sputtered the questions with a sense of normality that formed a strange knot in her throat.

"What?" She susurrated, like a fool, past the ache in her neck.

Rowan didn't miss a beat. "You asked for my help, and I'm more than willing to help"

"I can see that..." She wanted to bite her tongue so as not to say the next words, but her curiosity had always been one of her greatest weaknesses. "Don't you have any questions?"

He blinked. "Yes"

"Are you...not going to ask them?" She would be such a terrible spy.

"Are you ready to answer them?" Was all he merely said in response.

"No" Truth purred out of her lips.

Rowan shrugged again, his face and posture the clear image of composure. Indifference. Although she knew the latter was far from what he felt. "Then I won't ask. I'll just help"

"You'll just help" The words came out hesitantly, dubious.

He nodded. "I've already helped you bury a body, providing you with a corpse doesn't seem too different to me"

Isabella opened her mouth, then closed it. She considered his words. "I guess that's true" She turned halfway in her heels in direction to the door. "Thank you" She added, before she could talk herself out of saying it. She was immensely grateful to everything he had done and continued to do for her.

He took a couple of steps in her direction, and as one of his hands gently brushed the back of her head in a gesture that, for some reason, only tightened the knot in her throat, his lips descended upon her brow in a quick, chaste kiss. "That's what friends are for" He said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, he tugged at her ponytail. "C'mon, let's go find you a corpse" Rowan stepped away from her only to take the lead and disappear from the kitchen through the door and onto the night.

-

It was strange to be so thankful for someone's presence. To be able to feel so safe just by the brushing of one's hands against another's. Breathing steadier because the power emanating from his body was like a calming lullaby to her heart.

It was overwhelming, to feel all this love for a friend, while knowing that she had a history of loneliness ruling over friendships.

-

"Rose, could you please hand me the goldenseal jar?" Louise asked to the room from her place close to one of the beds.

Both Isabella and Dahlia shared a look from across the room as minutes went by and Rose pretended not to have heard the orders from her superior.

"Oh, oh" Dahlia mouthed to her when Louise looked up from her book to the youngest female's figure.

"Rose," Louise said, her tone more serious and slightly more threatening too, as if already running out of patience. "I asked you to do something, I will not repeat myself"

Said Fae remained pointedly ignoring Louise, her hands swiftly organising fresh bandages into different categories by size.

"How long till she starts screaming?" Dahlia's voice murmured from her side as Isabella stared at the two girls. She had not even noticed the female moving to her side.

"What?" She whispered in return, as they both pretended to work but instead were busy awaiting for any reaction from the other healers.

"I think it will probably take less than three minutes, but what about you? Any best?"

"You want to bet?" Isabella practically mouthed so as not to be heard by the others.

Dahlia nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, c'mon. Three minutes for three silver coins"

"Three?!" Isabella quickly looked to both Louise and Rose to make sure they had not heard her sudden rise of voice at the shock of Dahlia's price. They hadn't, so she hurried to the female's side so she would be heard by barely moving her lips. "Three silver coins? What are you, rich? I don't have that much money"

Dahlia bumped her side with her shoulder discreetly while she dumped scalpels, knives, tweezers, and other tools into a big bowl with boiling water. "Don't worry about it, If I win, I'm sure you can ask Prince Rowan to lend you the money"

Her words brought back memories from days ago. Rowan had helped her find a corpse -apparently it was easier than she had thought, for although the fae were prone to incinerate the bodies of their fallen, the camp was almost a cemetery because of how many buried soldiers were scattered all around- and he had not only dug it out for her, but he had joked and asked no questions regarding her reasons at all. He had merely offered her a helping hand, and she had taken it in between both of hers, almost not letting him go.

But only the night before had she been brave enough to actually put the dead body to good use. Disappointingly, her idea had been a massive failure. No wyrdmarks, nor words in The book had been useful in bringing her idea to life.

Isabella had almost cried, for if it had worked, it could have meant...She shook her head and those kinds of thoughts as she remembered where she was. Dahlia was looking at her work, but Isabella had no doubt she was still waiting for an answer from her.

"I don't want him to lend me any money"

Dahlia pouted, "What about two silver coins, then?"

She shook her head, "No"

"One?" She asked, almost as if she were doing her a favour.

"I don't think so" Isabella looked at Dahlia sideways and made sure to keep her features cool as she said. "But if you can accept two bronze coins for five minutes, then we are on"

Dahlia's expression quirked up at her words. "I'm in"

They stared at each other and let out the smallest of giggles as Louise started walking in Rose's direction. But they all stopped their actions as the rising sound of rumbling took over their senses. The polls keeping the tent in place started trembling, an early sign of an incoming collapse.

"Under the desks! Everyone, now!" Louise yelled.

Isabella's body was struggling to comprehend what was happening, so she was grateful when Dahlia grabbed her by the arm and forced her to run and hide under the biggest desk on the tent. Rose, who was on the other side of the room, was helped by Louise, who steadied her enough to join them even as the earth began shaking. Almost palpitating.

Louise remained in the middle of the room, separated from them, and Isabella's skin prickled at the sensation of a somehow familiar magic emerging. A poll began threateningly quavering, and it would have fallen if it hadn't been for Louise, whose magic kept it in place.

Shouts and the sound of swords being undrawn could be heard from outside, Rose's hands began twitching at her side. She was in between Dahlie and Isabella, and it was almost instinct as both of them grabbed each of the girl's hands.

The shaking intensified, and soon after, Isabella did not imagine the sound of rocks. Falling. Rolling. It was welcomed with more shouts, with some cries, and with Louise's sole strength keeping their tent up.

"Help!" A male screamed from somewhere outside. His tone sounded painful and desperate. Louise's eyes went to the opening, but as no one came in she remained in place. "Please!" The voice whined again.

But no one entered.

"He cannot move" Isabella murmured, in realisation. Whoever needed healing outside, they could not get it from them because they could not walk.

"We cannot move," Dahlia whispered-yelled in response.

Isabella looked around. Louise's magic seemed strong, consistent. Safe. They were healers, but only one of them was saving another. She left their place of hiding, and ignored the other female's screams at her as she took a run through the opening. She allowed the sight before her to freeze her for only a moment before she tried to find the person from which the cries of help were coming from.

All the tents that had once been perfectly in place, that were a good example of art, were now destroyed on the floor. Personal belongings that had been inside were all scattered on the floor. To her right, the sea was troubled, waves were violently crushing against the rocks of the hill. And blood. Everywhere. She couldn't even make sense where it was coming from.

Some of the fallen tents had bulks that Isabella had no doubt were unmoving bodies, the fabric stained with blood. Some corpses were on the floor, missing limbs, extremities. Many still had swords in their hands, while others had some part of their bodies stretched towards a weapon, as if even in death they would fight.

The sun was not glistening as it had been hours ago, it was now slightly covered by grey clouds, the sign of an incoming storm.

She could not understand what had caused such a massacre, for it could not have possibly been the mere falling of the tents. The answer to her inner thoughts came in the form of a sound: explosions. Close to the gates. More screams were heard, and a few soldiers came running from further away in the direction to the only entrance to the camp.

Isabella tried to ignore everything around, and focused in the one sound she was looking for. Some big branches had fallen on top of the tents, and some buildings had broken, causing heavy rocks and cement to fall on those who had not run fast enough.

She walked through the land while trying not to fall, she willed her ears to listen. After minutes, she finally did.

"Help" The voice was the same, if incredibly weaker. Softer.

"Where are you?" She called back, already trying to make her way to the voice.

"Here" The male said, husky. Debilitated.

That was not helpful at all. "Where exactly is here?" She tried not to sound sarcastic, nor rude.

"Under the-" The male began before being interrupted by long fist coughs. Isabella hurried to where she thought he might be, for she even surprised herself as she realised she recognized the cough by one being plugged with blood.

She practically ran, and found his upper body only partly hidden by dirt, dust, and fabric that used to belong to a tent. The material was almost as heavy as piles of rocks -for it had been created as a way to protect oneself against an enemies' weapons, Gavriel had once told her- and utterly suffocating.

"I'm here" She said to him, to ease his worry. Just as she crouched next to him, she noticed that his legs and lower stomach were nowhere to be seen, for they were being crushed by an almost intact wall. She looked up at the closest building, and even though it was only a couple of metres away, it still made no sense how a part of its walls could have ended so far away, on the floor.

"How on earth-?" She began, and bit her tongue so as not to say anything else as she tried to think of what to do.

Isabella looked around for anything to use to raise either the fabric or the wall off his body but she couldn't think of anything. She almost slapped herself as she remembered. Lifting up her sleeve, she traced her arm in search of a sign of reassurance. When she did, she brought it quickly back down and straightened her shoulders.

"I'm going to help you, okay?"

"P-please" He begged, his voice fading with each passing second.

"Alright, what's your name?" She asked him, in an attempt at distracting him so he would stay awake.

"Orcus" He choked out.

Cold sweat ran down her spine at his name, at what she remembered of it. In the books, Orcus had been one of the three Kings, the most powerful of them all, and elder brother to and . He had been Maeve's husband.

Her hands came to a sudden stop, and she cursed herself for even considering not helping him at all. What was he, if not a simple male who'd had the misfortune of being used by Sarah for her own imaginings and advantage? She had been proved countless times how different the books were from reality. She could not allow her memories to control her present actions.

"Well, Orcus" She told him, and took a deep breath to prepare herself for what she ought to do. "I'm going to take these things off you"

Isabella grabbed the fabric with both hands. It was hard as stone, and she could feel the material cutting at her skin as her forearm agonisingly burnt her. Trying to contain any sound, she ignored the pain running through her very own veins, and managed to move the fabric enough to liberate him.

They both gasped as she threw the fabric to the side, not far enough away from them to be comfortable, but more than sufficient for him to have his upper body freed.

She looked down at him, and grimaced. His hair was greasy and wet with both sweat and blood. His face had cuts all along his features, bruises were already forming in one of his eyes, and the nastiest of slits went from one side of his forehead to his chin. And blood, so much blood, everywhere. Coming from all his cuts, from out of his nostrils, and some from his mouth, staining his lips.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" She asked him as she ran her hands through his neck, down his shoulders and onto his abdomen. Pressing and feeling for wounds. She found that a part of his stomach was completely open. Organs, veins, muscles and bones were visible through the opening.

Isabella looked up from his wound, to her bloodied hands and back to his face. He was trying to look at her, but his eyelids must have been heavy, for they kept dropping close.

"I'm going to have to heal you before removing the wall from your legs, okay? Just stay with me" She ordered.

Empty. She had been stupid and reckless enough to leave the healers' tent without a bag. She had no bag, no herbs, adequate equipment, nor bandages to contain him from bleeding himself to death.

But there was blood; and where crimson red ran, magic could bring life.

"Docunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt" She murmured, more to herself than anybody else.

Still, he breathed. "What?"

She repeated the words she had read. "Do you know what it means?"

Orcus coughed, and as he did so she rummaged through her mind for possible marks to use. Hours and hours of studying and memorising proved to be useful, for she knew exactly which ones to use.

"No, is it a farewell?"

"Kind of," She responded. Isabella tore open his shirt to reveal all his skin to be able to do a better work. Her eyes strayed to every inch of skin to analyse where she should do her healing. "It means: the fates lead the willing and drag the unwilling"

He laughed, although she found no joke in her voice. His laughter turned into another fist cough. A drop of gore ran down his neck. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He said through painful breaths.

"Not really, but I think it's beautiful" She was grateful for the distraction, for he was so entertained with her words that he didn't even notice her hands.

She pressed her fingers to the wound on his stomach. She grabbed all she could get her hands on, and gently tried to bring it back inside, while her other hands drew signs from memory.

Orcus grunted in pain. "It hurts, it hurts!" Isabella ignored his cries and continued working. It had to be done slowly and meticulously. "I'm too young to die!"

Words were muttered under her breath, and the burning all along her arms intensified. Blood was drawn from his wounds, and used to sketch more markings.

"If I die, my mother will kill me!" He exclaimed.

Some of his wounds were already closing, and he must have been feeling slightly better if he was sprouting such nonsense. Her hands roomed to his face, she found him staring at her, his dark eyes were like orbs circling her space.

Isabella stopped. "How would that work?"

His still colourless lips parted. "What?" He almost sighed.

"How will your mother kill you if you've already died?" Her fingers twitched close to the blood on his brow.

"I don't know, but I'm sure that if anybody can, that woman will find a way"

Isabella pursed her lips so as not to smile at such nonsense. "Alright, I need you to stay still"

"Not hardship at all, since I can't run. Nor move my legs. At all"

Opting to keep her answer to herself, she merely replicated the same work she had done on his stomach, on his forehead. Her arms were atrociously infernal. Burning, aching, and morbidly throbbing in agony. The marks were coming to her with even more normality than they had before, and she had the certainty that she could have drawn them even with her eyes closed.

When she was done, only dried blood remained where once was a life-threatening injury.

She leaned away from him while her eyes already searched for where to hold onto the wall to take it off him but the words he uttered caught her attention.

"Are you a goddess?" He was lying on his back, bruised, pale, just brought back from an impending death, his arms were useless at his sides. But he was intently focusing on her face.

"No"

"An angel, then"

"Don't be ridiculous"

"You are quite beautiful"

"This is not the time or place" She looked away, and focused on the piece of cement preventing him from moving.

"The Gods have been merciful, for blessing me with your lovely face as the last thing I'll see before passing away" He spoke dramatically.

"You are not dying. In fact, you are already feeling better"

"Which brings me one to the question: are you an angel?"

She looked at him over her shoulder. He was smiling stupidly at her. She blinked. "I think you are suffering from illusions due to all the blood you lost" He'd had plenty of his organs holding onto a thread, after all.

"I see you are not used to flattery"

She rubbed at her temple. "I can't believe this," She mumbled.

"Me neither" He chimed in quickly. More cheerfully than someone who had been at the verge of dying minutes ago should have been. "To think that I get to stare at a goddess like you in my final moments"

"I'm just a healer"

"Hunter's blood! I'm even luckier, then"

"Close your eyes for a second" She ordered him. Partly so he wouldn't see her work, and partly so he would shut up.

"Why are you going to give me one last kiss?" He asked, with his eyes closed.

"No"

"It's alright. I can be patient"

She ignored his mumbling, and brought her damaged hands to the rocky wall. It was as heavy as the fabric, so it took her a lot of breathing and boiling of her blood to get it to move. When she did, she managed not to pass out by pure strength of will. How embarrassing that would have been.

"You did it!" Orcus yelled with happiness. His smile dropped just as fast. "I can't feel my legs"

Even with her head spinning, and her vision becoming blurry, her hands moved instinctively. She touched his legs, looked for palpable wounds and found nothing but scratches.

"Probably because the weight cut your blood flood for more than it should have. You'll recover lall sensation quickly" She hoped, for she wouldn't be able to move him by herself. Not while her heated body was screaming at her to lay down and let the earth consume her.

"Thank the Gods" He managed to sit up. "And you, of course"

She waved him away, uncomfortable with all the compliments and graciousness. "Do you think you can stay here and go to safety alone? I need to go back to the healers' tent"

He grimaced at her words. "I don't think that's going to be possible"

"Why not?"

He pointed to something at her back. Her eyes followed the journey he was signalling at. At the end of it, her eyes adjusted to the decrease of sunlight. It was almost night, had she really spent hours healing him? Her eyes widened as they caught where she had come from.

The healers' tent was in flames. Burning bright and high. Smoke curled around her throat, wetting her eyes. Her mouth fell open, an unsaid scream died in her neck before it could ever be heard. Her hands shook as she thought of Louise, Rose, and Dahlia.

Isabella didn't even notice the other buildings on fire, the way it was spiralling out of control. Her nostrils didn't even register the smell of burnt flesh. Her ears didn't hear the cries of pain. The throbbing in them outshone them, and the taste of ashes in her mouth mixed with her blood left a bittersweet heaviness on her tongue.

She was not crying, at least, she didn't think she was. She could not truly feel anything. All she was now was a prayer. A beg to the skies for everyone she cared and loved to be fine.

"We should leave, the fire is spreading too fast" Orcus grabbed her by the elbow.

Snapping out of her trance, she turned her head to look at him, then back around them. A shower of fire that would probably soon engulf them too. She nodded. "Can you move now?"

Orcus pursed his lips, then seemed to resolve himself. "Even if I can't I will"

"I can carry you, if you want" She wasn't sure she could, but there were no options left. Not when sweat curled at her hair and neck because of the heat of the flames.

"Like a damsel in distress?" She rolled her eyes and stood up. He raised his arms at her to pick him up. Struggling, she did. "I've never been carried like this before"

He was in her arms, his own arms around her neck. She cursed at herself, she should have given him a piggyback ride, not this. It was much more troublesome and tiring than the other.

But like she had done once before; she ran.

"Let's go to the main building. Everyone will probably be there, and it's said to be the most stable construction of the whole camp" He yelled into her ear so she would hear him past the screams and burning.

She nodded, and only slowed down when the ground was too rocky. Unsteady. Evading corpses, dirt, rocks, and almost slipping on a pot of blood. It took them too long to find the path to the castle. The smoke was too thick, and they were constantly taking turns due to blocked paths.

"Stop!" Orcus tightened his grip on her shoulders. She stopped abruptly in her tracks.

"What is it?" Confused was not a word strong enough for her.

"Hide, quickly" He whisper-yelled at her. While frowning, she obliged. His ears were more useful than hers, after all.

Isabella looked around them, there were only three trees close to them that hadn't yet been attacked by the fire, so she left Orcus right behind one, and crouched next to him.

"What's going on?" She questioned after she had caught her breath.

Orcus' eyes were wide and panicked. He was almost trembling as his gaze found hers. "Novyk" He mouthed.

She looked from him to what hid under the trees but all she could see were flames. "Are you sure?" She whispered. He nodded effusively, and she didn't imagine the way in which he had suddenly grown paler again.

"Are they close?" Orcus swallowed, then nodded. "What should we do?"

"I-" He began, then cut himself to swallow again. He looked away, frantically around, and evaded her gaze as he answered. "I don't know"

Isabella frowned. "Haven't you trained for this?" He was a soldier, she recognised his uniform before she'd had to tore it apart.

He looked down at his shaking hands and clasped them together. "I must confess I am not much of a fighter myself"

"What?!" She hissed.

Orcus flinched but she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry. "My brothers are warriors, and so were my parents. It's a sort of family tradition, I couldn't possibly refuse to join our military forces but..." He tapped on his knee, a nervous tick. "I'm actually afraid of blood"

She rubbed at her temples. "That's not possible. We are both covered in blood and you are fine"

He laughed awkwardly, with no humour in his voice, nor eyes. "I have no problem with my blood, but others?" He shivered, and he truly did appear to be suffering. "I can't even draw a sword because of that. The idea of injuring someone makes me nauseous"

Isabella let her forehead fall on the truck of the tree, and hit her head over and over. "This is unbelievable"

"I'm sorry"

"Don't" She shook her head. Sighting, she looked around for a weapon. Nothing. For an exit. Impossible if the Novyk were close to them.

Doomed.

"How close are they? How many? And which direction are they coming from?" She asked, resigned.

"East, only two, probably ten metres away"

"Alright" Think. Think. Think. "Can you walk?" He nodded, although looking dubious. "I want you to run to the castle. Find shelter."

He opened his mouth to protest, his cheeks red in...anger? "Absolutely not, I cannot leave you all alone. Even if I am of no help, I should at least stay by your side"

"Thank you, but no." She had a plan, and it didn't involve him watching.

"But-"

"Shut up" Her voice came out harshly, but they had no time to waste. "Go to the castle, and if you can, bring someone -anyone- back here to deal with them, I'll distract them. If no one can come, then that's alright"

Orcus clasped one of her hands in his. She raised an eyebrow in incredulity, but his expression was one of pure determination. "I will bring someone to help you. I promise"

The promise of a stranger was worthless, but she preferred to remain silent. "Ready?"

"No, but for you? Yes"

She had begun to be able to make out the Novyks' footsteps apart from all other sounds around them, which only meant they were getting closer and closer. She raised an arm to signal when he should run. They waited until they were close. When her hand made the sign, they both sprung to their feet.

Orcus went north. Isabella went East.

Taking off her shirt, she used it as a rope to climb to the top of the tree. Lorcan had seen it do it once at training, and he had insisted on teaching her how to do it more efficiently. Time after time. She was grateful for his guidance now, for it had taken her only a minute to reach the branches and hide.

She heard them coming before she saw them. They were both males. Their figures were broad and tall, but not nearly as much as Lorcan's or Rowan's. They were bickering and laughing with each other, an arrogant swing in their steps and movements. All skin was covered with matching red uniforms. Only their faces were uncovered, although there was nothing distinct about them.

Isabella noticed they both carried swords in their hands, and small knives were tied to a belt at their hips. She thanked the gods that one was walking a couple of steps in front of the other. Holding her breath, she waited until the male who was steps behind was right under the tree where she was before she jumped.

He fell on his face, with her right on top of him. She took advantage of his position and grabbed his sword.

"Hey, what are you doing?" The other male shouted, his own sword already high in the air and aimed at her.

She had two options. And choose the bloodiest.

Crimson red spattered on her clothes as she plunged the sword on the male lying on the floor's back. He grunted in pain, his body trying to fight the intrusion of the metal, but it quickly stopped as he took his last breaths before dying.

"You, bitch" The other yelled, anger from his fallen friend fueling him.

His sword came at her, and she managed to rise hers just in time so metal clanked against metal. Still, he was stronger than her, and although no edge cut her, she fell on the ground. He threw himself on top of her. Trapping her.

She was glad for the night sky, for the shadows of the flames not to be enough for him to notice the markings on her skin.

The male grabbed the wrist of the hand that still held onto the sword and tightened his grip until her bone broke. She screamed in torment as he laughed viciously. The sword fell on the grass, and her useless hand could not sustain the weight of it anymore.

"Ha!" He grabbed her chin and moved her head from side to side, inspecting her. "A human? This is offensive. I cannot believe they truly thought a mere human could stop us"

She grinned at him, despite his pressing of her cheeks. "One of you is dead, though, isn't he?"

His superior smile dropped to a furious hiss in less than a second. Followed by it was a slap to her face. He must have used more strength than needed, for Isabella's head did not only turn but so would have had her whole body if it weren't for his weight on top of her.

If she hadn't used so much of her -taken- strength on helping Orcus, she might have been strong enough to go head to head with the male. But she was already weakened, almost as much as before she had started experimenting on herself. It would take her time to heal. Perhaps more than she actually had.

"I hate whores like you" He panted against her ear, the tip of his nose running along her jawline. His hands kept her head and body in place. Bile rose in her throat at the innuendo in his voice. "I have been tasked with a special mission, you know. A very important one. But I think I can take the time to teach you a lesson before that"

His tongue darted out to lick all along her neck. Isabella wanted to scream, but no one would hear. She wanted to decapitate him and use his head as a football ball. He used the hand gripping her non-broken wrist to snap the bone in half.

She let out another cry, her mouth parted in a scream. He took advantage of it to plunge his tongue into her mouth. He moved his lips ferociously, forcing a kiss on her, his tongue down her throat.

"C'mon do it well, next thing will be my cock" He taunted before kissing her again.

She played along. Closing her eyes, she pretended he was someone else, she pretended she had a choice, she pretended the pain was pleasure.

She made time.

Enough that, despite the fact that her first broken wrist was still broken, it had healed enough that she could move it. She allowed her hand to discreetly travel down his side. She kissed him harder, and rolled her hips as a distraction. When he moaned, she grabbed one of the knives on his belt. He didn't even notice as he rolled his own hips in response.

Disgusted, she bit on his tongue. Hard enough that blood rolled down both of their chins and necks. He reeled away. Cleaning at his lips and looking with fury at the blood on his hand.

The male raised a hand to grab her neck but she moved faster. He fell on his back, and she straddled him. She considered killing him with the knife, but thought that it would be an ending too merciful for a monster like him.

She smiled at him, and used the knife to cut at her own palm. It was his pure confusion that kept him still, allowing her to draw a symbol on his cheek with her fresh blood.

"What the-?" He asked, batting her hands away. But she was already done.

Isabella stepped back, and watched with an uncontainable smile as he began choking. His eyes turned wide, frantic. Fearful. He brought a hand to his neck, his skin already turning purple.

He was drowning with no water.

She grabbed a fallen branch from close to her and used a flame to turn it on fire. She locked eyes with the male, saw the supplication, the agony, and the terror before she brought the burning branch to his body.

He was not only drowning, but terribly inflammable.

He caught on fire like a dry leaf.

The smell of burnt flesh didn't even bother her.

Isabella grabbed the fallen sword, her wrist almost fully healed now, the other still in process. She began walking back to the castle.

As she did so, she made sure to look around in case any of the bodies on the floor were still alive, in need of help. But they were all ghosts on fire, already.

When she could already see the building at a close distance, a soaring pain pierced her right tight. She fell on her knees on the ashy ground. An arrow had penetrated her leg. Blood was already staining the ground where she crawled.

Faintly, she heard the sound of someone screaming, of threats, of more arrows soaring through the air, but the pain in her thigh was dizzying all her senses.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw bodies running in the direction where she had come from. Some fell with a cry. Others fired up against the enemies as a response.

Isabella forced herself to stand up, she couldn't possibly take out the arrow without fearing a haemorrhage, so she used all the will she had left to push her to keep walking.

Survive. Escape.

The words echoed in her mind with the familiarity of an old friend. She had to keep going.

Alive. She was still alive.

So she walked. All the steps that led to the castle. It was heavily guarded, with soldiers on all sides and corners with weapons till their necks.

And walked up the stairs that took her inside. Where everywhere she looked injured people lay. Everyone attending to everyone. Luckily, nobody seemed to pay any attention to her. She could have been one of the ghosts on the battlefield for all everyone looked at her.

As a healer, she should have been there. Helping. But she would be of no use if she didn't deal with the arrow in her body first.

Isabella locked herself in the first empty room she found. There was only a chair and a small table, and she threw herself in the former as soon as she could. She inspected her wound, and merely looking at it hurt. She rolled up her trousers. But still, she pressed her fingers on her injury, on the bloody flesh, and stained her fingers with as much crimson red as she could.

With her free hand -whose wrist's was thankfully healed- she breathed and counted to three. Her arm burnt with the strange she used to remove the piece of woof piercing her whole tight. Through the haze of pain, she managed to draw the healing wyrdmarks she knew by heart.

It took longer than it had on Orcus, but her skin still closed. Her blood still dried. Only a scar was left in its place.

Just as she was about to roll down her trouser to cover her leg, the door to the room burst open. She had locked it, but the person used an abominable amount of strength to push through it. The door was abruptly unhinged, and it fell loudly on the floor.

On the doorframe, Rowan was breathing heavily through his nose. His body was imposing, bloodied but uninjured. He took a step towards her before stopping in his tracks. She wondered why, until she noticed the trail of his eyes on her body. She paled when she realised she was not wearing a shirt, for she had used it to climb the tree, and that she was merely there on her trousers and bandages covering her breasts.

But his eyes were not focused on that. His gaze was on her arms.

He saw the markings on her skin, the drawing etched onto her flesh, ink mixed with blood. He saw her bruises and scars, her experiments and ideas, her trials and errors. He saw all the time she spent on her own, obtaining knowledge in the pain, gaining magic in the suffering.

He saw the wyrdmarks on her skin, the ones she had tattooed all over her arms, shoulders, and below her breasts.

His next words were laboured. Gritted out through his teeth. "What the hell happened to you?"