When Kings Fall

One ⋆ Part 1

Death is a virtue and peace is degeneracy, as claimed in our myths of self-reliance. It is long past time for a bedrock shift. One day we will choose calm over chaos. One day, war will become intolerable and peace becomes our ultimate priority.

Or at least that is what a wise man once told me. But, with the blood hot against my bare hands, soaking between my fingers and escaping them from the bitter weather, it was hard to believe him. I pressed my palms into the wound, trying to act as a barrier between life and death. I scanned around, searching for something to help me stop the blood loss.

"Aurelia.." His voice was weak and shaking, much different than his usual authoritative voice. I glance to his wound.

"Aurelia, look at me," he demands.

I couldn't look him in the eyes, not like this. The one thing I never want to see is the light leave his proud green orbs. I feel his cold hand place itself against my cheek. I choke back tears, finally looking at his face. He was as white as the glittering snow falling on us. It was as if he was ready to evaporate into nothing but a mere ghost.

The only hint of color was the bright ruby blood slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth. I could hear every splash when it hit the ice. It was like sand in an hourglass, warning me of the limited time he has.

"You have the power to shape your own destiny, Aurelia. Life is too short to spend another day at war," he advises.

"There is nothing you can do for me." He winces in pain. When his eyelids open again, he was back to the same man he was before all this. "Go. That is an order," he demands.

"No!" I try to press my palms deeper into his prominent wound. His breathing starts to become weaker, shakily jagged with every tiny exhale. I had never seen him as weak as he is in this moment as his hand drops from my face, unable to hold itself up any longer.

"Stay with me!" I scream at him, but his eyes never meet my gaze.

I pull my hands from his wound and place them to his chest. I start pushing, feeling his sternum break and crack under my force. I couldn't advert my focus from his face as I waited for him to wake back up.

I would have kept pushing his chest and screaming at him if it wasn't for someone's cold hands grabbing my shoulders tightly and pulling me off of him.

"Aurelia! We have to go!" They yelled.

My tears prevented me from seeing their face, but the voice that usually carries such a sweet sound was now in distraught.

"No! I can't leave him!" I try to pull myself back to his limp body.

The person grabs my blood soaked hand and tugs my arm to make me move. I try not to budge, but fail miserably. I watch as his body gets farther and farther away from me. At a certain distance, he was no longer in my eyesight. The only thing I could see was the dark blood against the now not so pure snow.

I glance around at the golden fire flakes floating in the air. Black smoke filled around us like a night sky despite it being midday. My heart broke even more at the sight.

"We're losing this war, we need to get out of here!" Cree's voice was thickly coated over with worry and fear. His words cause me to search around, for a sign, some sign that we could win. There was none.

"They didn't come?" I was in complete shock. Our King had failed us to a point of no return.

Fear sets into me as my tears froze to my cheeks. All the bodies and all the wolves still alive; fighting because two kings couldn't find a way to dissolve an issue. It wasn't my allies versus their allies. It was a king versus a king. And us? We were nothing but soldiers waiting to die at a single command.

Cree rushes me to head into the woods, but something catches my attention. I free myself from his grip and sprint as fast as my numb legs will carry me before I drop myself down to the young boy gasping for air.

I turn him to his side to help clear his throat. While doing so, I hear a low, thunderous growl. I glance my head up to see the enemy coming towards us. I quickly try to pick the young boy up, but notice that I couldn't move him. He would die if I even move him an inch.

I look back to the enemy just feet away from us. I scan around for help, but find that Cree and the other members of my house had reengaged in the fight just as I have.

Quickly, but carefully, I pull the blade out of the young boy's abdomen. The stench of blood overwhelms my nose, making me sick to my stomach.

Damn those kings! Damn them for sacrificing the life of a boy that is no older than thirteen!

I quickly use the blade to swipe deep into my already stained palm. With my blood rushing out, I set my hand onto his wound, wishing I could have done the same for my father the entire time.

That is the curse of being a healer. You cannot heal your own blood.

I could feel the boy's wound starting to close and disappear under my hand as I cover his body with my own, bracing myself for the impact of getting torn to shreds by the enemy and praying that the young boy survives.

But it never came.

I peek up.

The wolf was limp in the arms of a man I had never met before. I feel relief wash over me as he dropped the wolf's body to the cold ground. He turns to me, sticking out like a sore thumb in this terrible winter wonderland.

He's extremely tall, frame broad and muscled out. His skin was pale, not even the slightest pink tint to his cheeks. His defiant raven locks are thick and sleek, drooping in front of his forehead, slightly covering his icy blue eyes.  We were so close to one another that I could see his vaporized breath escaping his lungs with every rise and fall of his broad chest.

I had heard stories of him, the King who has killed every potential mate he has ever had.

He turns with no time to spare, openly devouring himself into the fighting crowds as the young boy I saved coughs out a cheer,

"They're here!"