Shattered Souls (Guardians of the Maiden Book 3)

No matter how many times Zev was burned alive, he could never get used to it. He woke feeling feverish, his face and body heated as white-hot pain stole the last of his strength. Every inhale smelled of mud and scorching flesh. He could hear nothing outside of his heavy exhales that clouded in the air. Smoke rose and hissed where the silver touched him.

Why did he wake? He didn’t want to wake up yet.

Zev’s heavy eyelids slid closed, wishing to return to the black void of his dreams. It was a boundless plain, the ground perfectly reflective, like a mirror made of black water, rippling with each step he took into nothingness. Until he had looked down. A white wolf gazed back at him with the most vivid blue eyes, as if looking in from the edge of another realm. But when he took a step toward it, he sank through the water.

“Zev!”

He jerked awake again, or had he even woken in the first place? He hissed a curse and fought against his restraints. His skin melted into the chains snaked around him. Rawn held down his shoulders as Cassiel quickly shoved the key in the shackles and unlocked them. His wrists were covered with pus-filled boils.

“God of Urn,” Rawn murmured.

“Ready?” Cassiel asked him.

Zev clenched his teeth and nodded. Cassiel tried to be gentle but it didn’t stop the chains from peeling away his flesh like sodden paper. His vision swam and his screams echoed through the forest.

Once he was free, Zev buckled to the ground. The pain throbbed through every nerve and his mind tried to bury him away, but his hazy thoughts jerked his body with an earnestness to get up. He needed to find his cousin. And Lucenna. Both. Both of them.

But he couldn’t do more than shiver violently. Rawn threw a cloak over him, and Cassiel supported his arm over his shoulder. Together they helped him to his feet. His body leaned heavily against them with no ability to stand on his own. His wolf had been chased off by the silver, comatose somewhere inside of him.

He tried to say Dyna’s name, but all that came out was a painful moan.

“You must heal first,” Rawn said, somehow understanding.

Zev wanted to protest, but even Cassiel’s grim expression agreed. He was no good in this state when he couldn’t even stand.

They grunted under his weight and he let them drag him away. Zev fought to stay conscious. His ears filled with the chatter of the forest and the rattle of the chains straggling behind them. They brought him inside a small cave that smelled of wet stone and earth, and carefully laid him down on layers of blankets. His eyes fluttered closed. He drifted in and out, catching snippets of their muffled voices. His head was burning, his body beaded with sweat. Everything seemed to shake.

“His fever is climbing.”

“I’m afraid I carry no medicine. Not even for the pain.”

“He barely survived the silver poisoning yesterday. This is too much. We need a healer. We need Dyna.”

Dyna…

Where was Dyna?

Zev might have called out for her, but his mouth didn’t work. He couldn’t stop shaking. The pounding in his heart raced faster. He tried to hold on but he was floating away like a leaf on the wind.

“Is it not against Celestial law?”

“At this point, I am beyond any reprieve.”

His mind fogged. He thought of the vivid blue eyes again, then he was gone.

The reflective black floor rippled beneath Zev’s paws. Every step echoed, the soft sound of clinking following him. The silver chains hung around his neck, like a collar he couldn’t escape.

It seemed as though hours passed before he caught the flash of a white tail and gave chase. He ran and ran through the void, even as he lost sight of what he was chasing. He ran faster and his surroundings shifted into a dark forest. His paws tore through the frozen dirt, icy wind slipping through his fur as he sped past the trees.

The moon streamed in through the branches and formed a path, as though to light the way. A howl broke through the forest. Then another and another, melding into a chorus of voices, announcing a hunt. But for once, not for him.

Zev threw back his head and howled back.

A white flash darted past him. He gave chase again. Snow began to fall and soon it coated the ground. Zev bounded into the winter storm, making his way up a hill. Whatever waited at the top, wherever the moon was taking him, it didn’t matter. There was no push against his mind, no hissing presence. No guilt. No pain.

Nothing but the hunt.

Something moved among the shadows of the trees. A man walking with a pack on his back. Zev halted. He didn’t need to see his face to know who it was.

Zev whined. Do you forgive me?

His father turned and smiled at him. It held no blame. Only a fond greeting that spoke of warmth and affection.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning playfully. “Are you lost?”

Lost? Zev looked around the rise. The black sky glittered with snowfall, and the horizon stretched on endlessly. His steps somehow left no prints. The snow was a perfect layer.

Untouched. Unmarked. Clean.

Zev wasn’t sure how he got here, but he liked it. He didn’t want to leave.

Kneeling in front of him, his father reached for the chains. No. Zev moved back. If he lost them, he would be insubstantial. They were the only thing solid of his being. Losing that was frightening.

“These chains were never meant to be a permanent part of you.” His father stroked his head. “And if you keep holding on to the past, you won’t catch up to the present, son.” He nodded for him to look at the white wolf waiting for him at the top of the hill. “And I never taught you to give up.”

Zev groaned out a long yawn and rubbed his face. It felt dry and tight like he had been stretched thin. He blinked blearily at the cave ceiling, listening to the chirping of birds drifting from the trees outside. Fire crackled in the campfire beside him. What a strange, lucid dream.

A pang went through his chest as Zev thought of his father. He was trying to tell him something, or show him something. What did the white wolf mean?

He’d never seen one before since they were an arctic breed. Was it symbolic? Or was he simply hallucinating from the pain?

Zev scratched absentmindedly at his smooth chest. Smooth? At the unexpected feeling, he glanced down and froze. His skin—the scars from the silver chains were gone. Every single one. His wrists held no proof he ever wore manacles.

“Good. You are awake. I was beginning to worry.” Cassiel and Rawn watched him from where they sat on the other end of the campfire.

“What have you done?” Zev grated. “Why did you heal me? I didn’t ask you to heal me!”

Cassiel frowned. “No thank you this time? Your whole body was burned.”

“It’s meant to be that way. Those were my scars to bear!” He forced himself to stand, swaying on his legs.

Once his vision stopped spinning, Zev stormed away from the cave, naked as the day he was born. He shoved his way through the thick foliage. The Madness was always there below the surface. He waited for its cackle. For its hiss. But it merely lurked, quiet and still.

He lifted his trembling, clawed hands. They looked clean and unblemished like the snow in his dream. It was all wrong. Zev sank to the ground, hunching over his knees. The hands of a killer shouldn’t look this way.

A faint rustle in the bushes was the only announcement Rawn gave to his presence. With the breeze coming downwind, Zev wouldn’t have noticed him.

“May I approach?” Rawn asked.

Zev didn’t answer. His wild dark hair blew over his eyes as he stared blankly at the dead leaves stuck to his muddy feet. Even his legs were unblemished. Every full moon he endured, the proof of his torment meant to pay for his sin, it was all…gone.

A blanket was draped over Zev’s shoulders before Rawn sat beside him. He didn’t ask more of him. He simply kept him company as the morning arrived.

“He shouldn’t have erased my shame,” Zev eventually whispered, not able to quite hide the misery hovering beneath his anger.

“Do you say this because you cannot control the change?”

“No.” If only that was the only reason. He dug his sharp nails into his palms until he bled. Maybe he had become used to the pain. Needed it to feel something other than remorse. “I…killed my father one night that I turned. The silver chains, I deserve the torture they mark on my body. It’s my penance for what I have done.”

The quiet expanded with the rise of his lungs and he waited for the weight of that fault. And it did come, but it somehow felt…

“I am sorry, my friend,” Rawn said softly. He didn’t look very shocked or appalled. Cassiel must have told him.

Zev pressed on his swollen eyelids. “You have no need to be. I don’t mean to discomfort you.”

Another beat of silence. A pause that made Zev still. A cold brisk wind blew through the trees, making the few remaining dry leaves on the branches rustle, and he almost didn’t hear Rawn’s quiet confession.

“I, too, have killed my kin. My mother.”

Zev’s next breath halted in his throat. They didn’t know much about Lord Norrlen, but the little he did reveal always seemed to be heavy and private. Like parts that were a deep integral part of what made him. And this was another heartrending piece.

“She passed whilst giving birth to me…leaving behind five other children.” Rawn gazed blankly at the trees, as tough he was seeing something else. “My brothers were never close to me. I think…they despised me for taking her away from them. My sister…she was kinder, due to being too young to remember her. I knew my father held me at fault as well, although he in no account admitted it. I did all I could to gain his favor.” He twisted the gold military ring around his finger with a sigil Zev didn’t recognize. “I became a soldier as he wished, and progressed rapidly through the ranks of the army. Nevertheless, for all my efforts, my father remained discordant. I did not complain. I felt his resentment was warranted.”

Zev shook his head. “But…but it wasn’t your fault.”

Rawn smiled at him sadly. “Likewise, you did not intend to harm your father. Werewolves are not sane of mind when they turn. You had no control over what occurred that night. And you should not give up your life because of it.”

Zev looked away. “You heard our conversation yesterday.”

Sometimes he forgot how well the elf could hear. He was in a dark cloud when he confessed to Dyna about wanting to die.

“I did.” Rawn looked up at the clear blue sky through the tree branches. Scattered clouds rolled past, leaving behind shapes on the ground. “No matter how hard we try in life, there is no guarantee of a perfect ending. Living is the greatest adventure there is, and it would be a great shame for you to miss it.”

It was difficult to go on with his life when it hurt to breathe in a world that didn’t allow it. The moment of nearly dying filled him with the need to survive, but to continue, Zev had to accept what he had done to his father.

“I’m weighed down by my grief,” he admitted. “It’s burrowed within me so deep it has become my marrow. The truth is I’m not ready to let that go yet…” He picked a desiccated leaf off his leg and it crumbled in his hand. “Because if I were to yank it out, my bones would have nothing to hold on to and I would simply…break apart.”

To say it out loud, it brought a sudden clarity of something he hadn’t known about himself.

Rawn nodded as though he understood, because he had felt that same at one point. “Pain is not meant to break you. Enduring it is in itself a cruel trial of strength. It will take some time to heal, if that is what you wish. It’s not an easy road, nor a short one, but do not dwell on how long the journey is. The top of one mountain is the bottom of the next. Therefore, keep climbing. Eventually, you will arrive where you are meant to be.”

It was times like these when Zev realized why Lord Norrlen was their Guidelander. It wasn’t merely about knowing the land. He let them make their own decisions, even if he didn’t agree. But in these dark moments when they felt so lost, he simply guided them back. And not once did he ever make Zev feel judged for it.

“Thank you, Lord Norrlen. For your ever-present wisdom.”

A soft smile rose to his face. “I merely share what I have learned.”

“And thank you for not questioning my ability to shift during the day. You have been among the first to not find it strange, other than—” His eyes widened. “Dyna.” The reminder of her had Zev leaping to his feet. “Gods, we need to go.”

“Yes.” Rawn quickly got up and followed him back to the cave. “Why should I find it strange?” he asked curiously as they hurried through the trees. “I have met many Lycans during my travels. I heard the largest pack of them dwells in Xián Jīng.”

“Lycans?”

“Half-human werewolves. They call themselves Lycans and can shift freely as they wish.”

Zev halted, shock falling over him like icy water. There were more like him?

Rawn’s brows rose high on his forehead. “My friend, did you believe you were the only one?”

Yes, he had…

“God of Urn, forgive me. If I had known, I would have mentioned it sooner.”

But Zev wasn’t angry, he was swimming in relief. He wasn’t alone in the world, and the fact was so overwhelming he had the urge to both laugh and cry. All this time he thought he was an abnormality, but now he found there were packs of his kind.

He swallowed and kept going. “Have you…met the pack in Xián Jīng?”

“I have not, unfortunately,” Rawn said. “The Garou Pack keeps their territory hidden in the Lángshān Mountains. But there are a few others in Urn. I once met the Lupin Pack while passing through Emberdin. They’ve laid claim to the plains there.”

Emberdin was the grasslands of Azure only three days away to the east. Zev turned his head in that direction as if he might catch a glimpse of them. It was enough to know that they existed. Maybe when this was all over, he could go in search of them.

“I had yet to meet a fully grown Lycan who could not control their Other,” Rawn continued with a heavy sigh. “Hence, I assumed you had a hold of yours. But you never knew there were more like you out there. Your pack has greatly neglected you.”

Zev slowed when they came out of the tree line, stepping into the sun. It reflected off the gilded embellishments in Rawn’s scabbard. “What…” He breathed. “What did you say?”

“Pardon if I offend. I merely meant the Other is very dangerous if left unattended. The Pack Alphas must teach the young pups from a very young age how to Master it. Some have never had to use chains.”

“No—” Zev shook his head sharply. He had to swallow before he could speak. “You said control. It’s possible to control the Other?”

Rawn frowned as if it were an odd question. “Of course, it is.”

He couldn’t do more than stand there in stunned silence. His father had been right after all. These chains were never meant to be a permanent part of you.

“Zev.” Cassiel stood outside of the cave with Fair’s reins in one hand. Their bags were all packed and tied to the harness.

He clenched his teeth at the sight of him, a growl rumbling in his chest. “Don’t speak to me.”

“Zev—”

“God of Urn help me, Cassiel. If you don’t leave me be, I swear I will beat you within an inch of your life. Then let you heal, and do it again.”

“Do it if that would make you feel better,” he said. “I’m sorry about the scars, but you are angry about more than that.”

“Oh, I’m furious. So beyond it, I’m trying to restrain myself from—” Zev broke off in a frustrated snarl. “Healing me when I didn’t ask for it is one thing, but I cannot forgive you for bonding with Dyna, and keeping it from me as well.”

“Seven Hells, Zev, I never planned for it to happen!” Cassiel snapped. “I saved her life, damn it. You need to get over yourself and point your anger somewhere else.” He beat a fist over his heart. “Tarn took her. And every minute I don’t see her, I have to fight against the instinct telling me she is dead.”

Zev narrowed his eyes. “She’s not dead.”

“It feels that way.”

“Because you cannot feel her.” His fangs grew, fur growing along his arms as he came to a realization. “That must mean she cannot feel you either.”

“Probably not.” Cassiel squared his shoulders, acceptance in his cool gaze. “Now is your chance, Zev. Do your worst—”

Zev slammed his fist into Cassiel’s jaw. He staggered but braced his legs to remain standing.

“Cease this,” Rawn said, moving to intervene.

“Leave him.” Cassiel wiped the blood from his nose. “Feel better?”

A deep growl rumbled in Zev’s chest. “Hardly.”

“Come on then.” The next punch landed in Cassiel’s gut, and he doubled over, but he motioned him to keep going. When Zev didn’t, he scowled. “That is all? Keep going. Hit me!”

Desperation swarmed in his bloodshot eyes. He wanted this. He was punishing himself as Zev had done many times before. For not saving Dyna, and perhaps for other things. The need to feel some sort of pain other than the one torturing him now. But he had long learned no one else could carry that weight.

“We each must bear our own burdens, Cassiel. This is yours.”

Cassiel slumped back and looked up at the cloudy sky, his wings hanging limply on his back. He looked so lost. Zev wondered if that was how he’d looked to others all these years.

“It hurts,” Cassiel rasped, curling into a fist over his heart. His fists shook, and Zev caught a brief flicker of blue there. A dance of light passing through his taught fingers, gone in a blink. So fast, Zev wasn’t sure if he had truly seen it. “I need…her, Zev. I need her back.”

The brokenness on the prince’s face made his own eyes water. Zev had always been there for Dyna, but for all of his strength and ability, he felt so powerless.

“Aye, I know you do.” Zev crouched in front of him. “But I need you to get up right now, all right? We have to keep going because she needs us. And I need—” His voice cracked. “I need you to keep hoping for the both of us. Understand?”

His sanity was hanging by a thread. It lured the Madness and Zev felt it lurking in the edges of his being. If he lost another member of his family, then he was done for.

Cassiel’s weary eyes looked up at him. Whatever he saw made him inhale and nod. Zev helped him up.

“Do not despair,” Rawn told them. “We will find Lady Dyna.”

Cassiel dragged a hand down his face. “Not without Lucenna.”

“We don’t have a choice right now, Lord Norrlen,” Zev groused at the look on his face. Every inch of his skin tugged with the urge to shift and search for the one thing they couldn’t find. “You cannot magically track Dyna, I cannot catch her scent, and Cassiel cannot sense her. I think Lucenna will understand us coming to her for help.”

“At this point, I don’t care if she understands or not.” Cassiel expanded his large wings, the wind ruffling the black feathers.

“Then we should return where we saw her last,” Rawn said, finally agreeing. “There must be a trace there.”

Zev met his eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing. It had been days since Lucenna went her own way. The rain might have washed away any traces of her, and if it did, then hopes of crossing paths with her dropped to near impossible. The further they went, the further they were from Dyna, but right now, the best thing they could do was go east.

He called on his wolf, and his body ached as the shift rippled through him. Fur sprouted from his body and his paws hit the ground.

Tarn may have won for now, but Zev would never stop hunting.