Page 144 of Of Realms and Chaos

“Before you, I was fighting for my realm out of obligation. Blindly attempting to save everything and everyone that would rather see me rot in the ground than sit atop a throne. I never even wanted the damn thing. I do not want to wear a crown and watch as half of me wars with the other. I barely cared to exist before you! And then I watched you walk onto that balcony in a hideous fucking gold gown, looking so clearly miserable, and I wanted nothing more than to make the world better. For you! Everything I do is for you! And if it is from my own selfish desire to be the thing that makes you happy or perhaps to feed off of that joy like a drug, then I am selfish. And I do not want to be anything else. Because it constantly feels like the end, and I do not regret soaking up every second when I do not know if it will be my last! But you refuse to do the same, to put me first! How do you think that makes me feel?”

I meant to speak, to apologize or argue further or maybe even laugh at the ludicrousy of such a thing because of course it was the end. We were all quickly sailing towards death, none of us prepared and each of us pretending like that was not the truth.

Before I could so much as think to conjure a response, Wrath’s shouts filled the air.

“Get down!”

The hissed instructions tore my attention, and I found myself trying to dive down, Bellamy jumping towards me to cover my body. We grunted as we hit the soggy and sticky mud, the thickened substance practically grabbing hold of our limbs. Even with all of the sloshing, I still heard the cry of pain, still understood exactly what the next graphic smack into the mud was. With a shove, I got Bellamy off of me, and what I saw would live on a throne within my nightmares, just beside Winona’s throat being slit.

Wrath lay in the mud, his stomach rising and falling far too quickly, his breaths coming out as pained wheezes. I screamed, unable to stop the blood-curdling sound from scratching up my throat, clawing its way to freedom and reverberating back to us as it echoed in time with a streak of lightning. Both Bellamy and I reached for him at the same time, the golden arrow wobbling as we jostled the dalistori. A small hiss of pain left Bellamy’s lips as he quickly ripped his hand away, but my eyes remained on Wrath.

Cries of agony came and went—hello, goodbye; alive, dead; the beginning, the end. Not bothering to look around us, I honed in on Wrath’s distressed face, his yellow eyes squinted in anguish.

“It is going to be fine, Wrath. We are going to make you better. Ranbir can help you. Please, hold on.” My fingers went to his chin, rubbing just below it as I pulled back his fur to look at the arrow.

Black blood poured from his throat, soaking his body and my hands with each gurgled breath or stuttered heartbeat.

“I do not see anyone moving. Whoever shot that is either gone or hiding. Either way, we need to go, now. Places like this are too open. Wrath, can we pick you up?” Bellamy’s ringed fingers appeared in my line of sight as he placed them around my forearm, but I heard the way he muttered to himself, the unsure and somewhat resigned tone to his voice.

Wrath must have too. Because he let his body relax, the tension leaving him as he looked over to me. I shook my head, not willing to hear goodbyes. No more. Please, no more.

I am proud to call you mine and to be yours, Asher.

Another arrow flew through the air, Bellamy’s hand moving faster than I could fathom as he caught it just in front of his face. Both of us looked up to see a male in the distance, a large, golden bow in his hands. He stayed for but a moment, and then he was gone, disappearing in a puff of black shadows.

That was when the ground beneath us shook.

Mia was coming.

“Please, do not leave me, Wrath. I love you. I love you so much. You are my family. Please.” I was begging now, the words coming out in a cracked whisper.

Kill them all for me, Strange One.

That voice, still eerie within my mind even when death—his master—knocked upon his door, was like locking the bolt. And still, I watched as his chest began to slow its pace, and his eyes fluttered closed.

And then the soldiers appeared in the distance.

Wisps of black shadows made way for golden armor, which glinted in the distance as the rain fell harder—the thunder louder than before. My fingers tightened on Wrath’s unmoving body, the sound of his heart gone.

I leaned down, letting my forehead rest against his rain-and-blood-soaked side. No, I could not take this. Could not survive this.

“Please, Eternity, if you exist, bring him back to me.”

Padon, help me. Help Wrath. Help your creation.

Silence kissed my cheek, death stroked my hair, and the end greeted me.

“I love you, Wrathy.” My whispered affection breezed past the dalistori’s unhearing ears, and suddenly, my body was vibrating with his namesake. My eyes rose, looking in the distance at the coming army.

“I cannot portal them all on my own, and if we wake them, then they will be in a daze and likely panic. We have to be the ones to fight.” Bellamy’s words were full of nerves, not for the fight, but for my mental state. I swore to myself then that I would not worry him, not show how broken I was, not distract him.

Nodding, I released Wrath, wiping my hand clean before grabbing onto Bellamy and squeezing his in return as he threaded our fingers together.

“Then we fight,” I declared, staring into his blue eyes—into home.

“For Wrath,” he whispered.

“For Luca,” I returned. “For Winona and Pino.”

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