Part 25

Someone tried to grab the younger man and pull him away, but he was frantic, clawing and biting like a wild animal. Other leapt in to help and Ardon straightened, his attention diverted. He began barking orders, finally moving to handle the situation himself. The knife was still in his hand, trailing a scarlet path in the grass behind him. Zara watched as the chaos unfolded in front of her. Another wolf began to tremble and quake, his eyes growing dark and furious growls ripping from his throat. Then another and another, until they were all turning on each other one by one. She lost sight of Ardon as he merged himself into the anarchy.

She felt so tired, exhaustion creeping in on her, but she forced her eyes to stay open. The clearing was filled with howls of rage and pain, utter carnage happening right in front of her eyes as the wolves continued to fight against one another. An amused laugh caught her attention, and while she couldn't turn to look, she knew it was Wren.

It was at the exact moment, that Ardon came stalking out of the fight. His shirt had a tear across the front, leaving most of it in shreds. Blood stained the gray colored fabric, but he didn't seem to notice. Zara felt her insides quiver beneath his glare. His eyes quickly slid from her to the witch.

"What did you do, you wench!" he shrieked. He yanked Wren to him by the front of her gown, dragging her into Zara's line of sight.

Gasping for air as the soles of her boots left the ground, Wren lifted a hand and flicked it toward him. Some invisible force emerged from her fingertips, strong enough to send him stumbling backward and release his hold on her. Wren fell to the ground, rolling onto her back. She thrusted a hand toward the fire, and a moment later, a ball of flames was suspended in her palm. She hurled it in Ardon's direction and he only just managed to duck out of the way.

Zara could only sit there and watch, the witch hurling spell after spell in the wolf king's direction. He somehow managed to stand his ground against her, dodging and diving with his quick reflexes as he attempted to once again get closer to her.

If she had her movement, it would've been the opportune time to slip away. Zara tried to squeeze her hand into a fist, willing her strength to come back to her. Her fingers twitched with the slightest of movements. A spark of excitement rushed through her. Wren couldn't continue to fight Ardon and hold the paralysis spell on Zara, not without making herself weak. And as her fingers waggled again, she knew the witch was quickly exhausting her magic.

"Enough!" Ardon bellowed, staggering forward a few steps. He lifted the knife in his hand and pulled his arm back before throwing it. It spun end over end through the air before hitting its target square in the chest.

Wren looked down at the ivory knife handle in shock before raising her eyes to Ardon. He watched with cold satisfaction as she swayed, struggling to remain on her feet. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, staining her pale skin. Finally, she dropped to her knees. She raised a trembling hand and pulled the knife from her chest and tossed it to the ground. Ardon kicked it aside with his boot as he crouched on the ground in front of her.

"What did you do?" he asked again, in a harsh whisper.

Zara watched as the witch let out a shaky, weak laugh. "You take me for a fool, Ardon. You may be stronger than the rest, but you're not immune." Her eyes flickered away from him and toward the ground. Zara followed her gaze and noticed one of the wooden bowls, the same one that Ardon and his pack had drank from, lying next to them. She had tricked them, feeding them some type of spell that had worked in turning them all against one another.

Ardon's nostrils flared as he picked up the bowl before furiously throwing it into the flames. "You....how dare you...," he began and as he reached out a hand to wrap around Wren's throat, Zara noticed the shaking in his limbs. His eyes seemed to darken, making her believe the potion was finally having an effect on him too...though not nearly as strong as it had on the others.

Zara's thoughts grew frantic, hoping he wouldn't turn on her with his newfound rage. She tried again to squeeze her fingers into a fist and she was unable to hold it for more than a few seconds. She was panting from the effort, when suddenly, the spell broke. Mobility rushed through her, and when she turned back to Ardon, he was tossing aside Wren's lifeless body.

She was still weak, though, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Her first move was to immediately clap a hand over the knife wound in her arm to stop the bleeding. She could feel the warm liquid wetting her fingers. She needed something to wrap it, something to stop it before she lost anymore.

Ardon's low growl distracted her. Her stomach lurched and when she looked up, he was watching her maniacally. He dug his fingers into the earth, gripping it tightly as the muscles in his arms seemed to clench. It was as if he were straining against his entire being, trying to keep the part of him manipulated by Wren's magic at bay. His gaze was furious, appearing more animal than human, and Zara was unable to look away. He crept toward her, a bloodthirsty expression in his eyes. "You...if you hadn't let those other two get away. If you hadn't been such a lying, little—"

He lunged toward her and she rolled to the side in an attempt to avoid him. She landed on her stomach and clambered to her feet, all the while waiting to feel his fingers digging into her skin as he mauled and mangled her. Only it never came. When she whipped around, she saw one of his pack members had found their way to him. They wrestled and rolled on the ground together, each struggling for dominance.

Zara remembered Wren tossing the knife to the ground and refocused her attention on finding it before Ardon refocused his attention on her. She scanned the grass, eyes flitting over Wren's body before she caught sight of the knife gleaming in the firelight. She hobbled toward it, dropping to the ground as carefully and painlessly as possible before snatching the weapon. Her eyes flickered toward the ongoing fight between all of Ardon's pack, the air filled with the fiendish sounds of growls and cries of anger and fear. She was still unnoticed for the moment.

Using the knife, she tore a ribbon of fabric from the end of her cloak and wound it around her arm to stop the blood flow. Then she worked on trying to figure out what the hell to do next. With a bum leg, the chances of winning a fight against a dozen or so angry werewolves was about zero. Running away was a possibility, but she wasn't going to get far. The idea of running from any sort of fight rubbed her the wrong way, but staying alive was more important. Self-preservation was beginning to kick in. There weren't many choices. And none of them were good.

Zara glanced between the chaos and the dark woods off to her left. She would make a break for it, and get as far as she could while no one was watching. That was the furthest she allowed her train of thought to take her. She would worry about the rest later. She began pulling herself to her feet when something hard and solid barreled into her, knocking the wind right out of her. She landed on her back, skidding through the grass. Ardon hovered over her, his fingers digging into her skin. His face was covered in blood, but she could make out a sneer on his lips.

"Bitch!" he growled. Her fingers tightened on the hilt of the tiny knife as he began to wrestle it out of her grasp. He managed to pry it out of her fingers and raised it over his head. Zara's heart jumped into her throat as she grabbed his forearm, pushing it away from her face with all her strength as he tried to bring it down. "You can't win, I've already beat you," he huffed. "Give up. Give up or die."

"Then kill me," she hissed, turning her head and breathing hard. She needed a weapon, a rock, a stick, anything. What she found, though, was one of the small, glass vials Wren had been using. The one closest to her was filled with an inky black liquid that reminded her of the slick blood of the ghoul she and Ronan had killed. Reaching for it would mean letting go of Ardon's arm. The blade was already too close for comfort, coming closer and closer as the last of her strength faded.

Zara began squirming and writhing beneath him, trying to roll away. Her broken leg was all but useless but she remembered she still had one good one. So with all the effort she could muster, Zara brought her knee up and rammed it into Ardon's back. It was a movement that could've easily ended her life, but simultaneously, Zara let go of Ardon's hand and rolled to grab the vial. Ardon had lost his balance, a grunt escaping him. She didn't give him time to recover, bringing up the vial and smashing it against the side of his face. Whatever it was, the effect was instant as his skin began to sizzle. He let out a strangle cry of pain as he scrambled to get away from her.

Out of breath, her body aching, Zara wasn't done yet. She pried the knife out of his clammy hand, hovering over him as he laid on his back, clutching his face. Here, the man who had killed Gray, who had manipulated her entire existence for the past few, torturous days, who had plans to kill the world and rebuild it in his name...she thought she would've felt more defiance, more rage. Instead, there was just an almost guilty satisfaction at how it felt to plunge the knife into the center of his chest. His eyes widened, mouth falling open. For once, wordless. His chest pumped furiously up and down for a few, long moments. Then, unceremoniously, he was still.

She fell back onto the ground, panting as she tried to catch her breath. Ardon's lips were still parted from his last breath of life, his arms and legs sprawled out. She had expected to feel some sort of satisfaction, or maybe even triumph, but it was hard to feel anything when a fight still raged barely twenty feet away from her. She couldn't take her eyes off Ardon, a part of her fearing he would jump back to life and spring toward her.

Her problems were far from over, though, when she felt a pair of eyes on her. She glanced up to see one of the werewolves watching her with a hungry expression. His body lurched in her direction and she scrambled backward, dragging her broken ankle with her. He stalked toward her, yellow eyes filled with rage. She squeezed the knife reassuringly in her hand.

Yet just as the man readied himself to pounce, he was stopped in his tracks. It was as if he had run into an invisible wall. Zara stared at him with wide, surprised eyes as he fell onto his knees. A red smear of blood dripped from his mouth, although not nearly as noticeable as the culprit that stood behind him, sword in hand. Her eyes widened in awe. Ronan looked back at her, his face flushed with exertion and his hair a tangled mess.

"Ronan," Zara breathed.

The moment was shattered by a chorus of feral growls.

"Stay here!" Ronan yelled to her. He took off, bellowing a certain Nightwalker's name. A beat passed and then there was a strong forearm wrapped around her chest. Before she could protest, she was dragged backward away from the carnage with inhuman speed.

So she had heard right then. Silas.

"Stay back, little human," he warned, although his voice had a hint of amusement in it. "Let the dogs fight it out."

In front of her, Zara watched in amazement as Ardon's men continued to attach each other, only a few left amongst the bodies that littered the ground. They hardly even seemed to notice Zara and Silas not even ten feet away. The Nightwalker scooped her up in his arms, as her eyes searched over his shoulder, trying to find the familiar Huntsman. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before she forced them open again. They fluttered a second time. Then a third.

This time, she kept them shut, as darkness swept in and covered her like a thick, heavy blanket. The last sound she heard was a soft familiar voice, whispering her name.