Silver Threads ↠ Matthew Fairchild [1]

TWENTY

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L E S S   T H A N   G O D S

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When Willa opened her eyes, she found herself standing in Highgate Cemetery, the greenhouse and Thomas far behind her. She had landed in a clearing, under a canopy of cedar trees. It was dark, the gaps between the leaves overhead letting in little starlight.

Knowing that whatever had taken her here knew that her brother was near was what kept Willa from freaking out. Her thoughts were on James as she walked forward, her eyes sparkling in the night as she looked around.

She was surrounded by tombs, the earth around her torn and churned up as if there had been a recent fight. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as she walked forward, her eyes searching for any sign of James that she could latch onto. However, instead of finding her brother, she found something else. Someone else.

And the sight was enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

"Matthew?" Willa croaked, her voice straining as she noticed the blonde's crumpled figure a little ways away. She was running his way without a second thought, throwing herself onto the ground beside him. It was dark, but her eyes were still able to take in his bruised appearance. His jacket and shirt were ripped and spattered with blood, cuts littering his body every where she could see almost as if he had been cut by shards of glass. His parabatai rune stood out stark and black on the inside of his wrist.

Willa's breathing was shaky as she leaned forward, her heart beating so rapidly she could practically hear it in her ears. She placed her head against Matthew's chest, her eyes squeezing shut as she attempted to focus all of her senses on the boy. The soft beating of his heart and the slow up and down movement of his chest was enough to assure her that he was still alive and that simple fact was what kept her from breaking down right then and there.

Sitting back up, Willa let her eyes flicker over the boy as tears began to cloud her vision. "Matthew?" she whispered, her voice shaking with fear.

There was no response and she knew there wouldn't be, but it still left her feeling as if she had been punched in the gut.

Willa's eyes trailed over the boy's body and she grabbed ahold of his arm. She went to reach for her stele while keeping her gaze upon the blonde. His breaths were labored and the sight of him so badly wounded made Willa want nothing more than to be able to take his pain away, to heal him.

The dark haired girl winced almost instantly, her gaze turning to her own arm where a cut was slowly beginning to grow along her arm. Furrowing her eyebrows between a hiss of pain, she looked to Matthew where the cut that had once been on his arm was slowly fading away.