Luna of the Beastly Lycan King

Chapter 2. Tragedy

DANIKA

heartbeat slowed to a hellish cadence as I watched—breathless, a familiar fear gripping me as Fergal, heir of the house of Gathmore surged forth, each thrust emphasizing the heat pulsing through the sinews of his neck, a force that charged brutally toward Finarfin—

“Do not fear. I will return. It's only a fight, a battle of rites to choose the next king, someone has to sit on the throne. It has always been our tradition.”

Those had been Finarfin’s words to me. I had come to understand the tradition of this new land—of Cynthros, one I call home for months now. Though Finarfin was born a son to the Lycan King, he still had to fight, to partake in the archaic battle rite, to prove his mettle, and his worthiness to lead. The mightiest rules.

It was a brutal tradition—seen as such from the moment I learned of its existence.

I failed not to fear. Fail to heed his reassurances as I observed the heavily clenched fist colliding with his chest. I quaked at the sound it made, my breath shaking, eyes bugging out. Raw fear.

The blow quaked the area before it blasted Finarfin across the ancient chamber, thrown harshly against the far pillar. Bones cracked, and the arena quivered as cracks, like veins, lined the structure his back struck, a sickening breaking sound.

For a sore moment, when his dark eyes went wide before blood coughed out, before the back of his head slammed back against the pillar, I lost my will to breathe.

The air grew still, the regal colosseum freezing in its stance. No pulse of air. Finar.

Finarfin.

No, no—

I heard it—the heartbeat, the pulsing rhythm. Four quick beats, then a sudden cessation. It stopped. Truly stopped.

No.

A shaky subconscious steps forward, enough for my boots to meet the resistance of the thick, ancient wall barricade that encircled the Colosseum. Fingers, trembling, pressing against the surface, nails scraping hard concrete as the rhythm of my heart suddenly becomes too loud for my head to endure. I never tore my eyes from his battered form, half-veiled by the shadow of the pillar, his limbs bathed in burning fire, blood carving a path down the visible side of his face, staining eye and chin alike. Brown hair clung to blood and sweat.

I strained to listen, to hear his heartbeat, desperate, but no sound came. There was only silence. No huff of breath. No groan of pain. Silence reigned—unbroken, unforgiving. He was silent. Motionless.

His form blurred in my eyes as an odd ringing echoed in my head, like an uneven toll of a bell accompanied by a terrible ache, shattering my remaining grasp on reality. Finarfin fades, and with him, the entire colosseum and its dissolves, replaced by a bright, foggy vision, then nothing, silence—

☆☆☆

Eirin's gaunt face filled my hazy vision, and I found I was no longer in the Colosseum, but back in the dark clutches of past memories. The stench of pig manure assaulted my nostrils, nearly triggering the ejection of bile from my empty stomach.

“You went into a faint, Danika. I thought you had finally succumbed,” She whispered, eyes brimming with tears. “Many of the slaves are dropping like flies, it can not happen to you too. I can not allow it!”

I was dizzy. Her faze blurred in and out of my vision. The sounds around me sharpened and distorted at regular intervals. There was a fever under my skin, consuming me bone by bone, tissue by tissue.

Still, I had work to do. The swine would not feed themselves. Their excreta would not clean themselves. The punishments that awaited us at the hands of the guards should we slack off on our duties, were worse than a slight faint.

“If you pick up a shovel one more time, you might die!” Eirin cried, the movement jostling her short black hair. It was once long and wavy, until one of the guards hacked it off. “Please, just wait here, I will get something for you to eat. Anything at all!”

“The guards?”

“They claimed there were no meals for us, just like always!” She was so emaciated, that her skin flapped around her bones, and her sack dress was always slipping off. Yet, she remained strong for us both. “I will be right back, they are still making their rounds.”

I held out my hand to stop her, but she had already moved away from me, away from the squealing pigs and rickety barn. She was such a pure soul, keeping up hope that we would ever find anything to eat when the guards on the farm were determined to work and starve us to death.

Groaning, I crawled through the mud to the water trough. Thankfully, it was mostly untouched, so I sank my face in and gobbled in as much as I could. I have had to drink this water side by side with the swine as they plunged their dirty snouts in sometimes, but today was better.

I pulled my head out with a big gasp, feeling only marginally better. With my vision a bit more steady, I grabbed the wall for leverage and pulled myself to my feet.

My entire body trembled.

I had not had sustenance for days. The initial days had been the most difficult, hunger driving the slaves mad enough to eat the farm animals' food.

Eventually, our bodies began to reject it violently. The guards found out, gave us a harsh whipping, and ordered for the animal feeds to be made up of raw, squiggly maggots and other repulsive ingredients to make it impossible for our consumption.

Even the seven circles of hell seemed like a better place than this farm.

Eirin was only worried about me, but she was the one in most danger. It was never a good idea to confront the guards when they had the backing of a powerful Cynthros household.

Brushing my greasy hair out of my face, I stumbled out of the barn in search of her.

The sky was darkened by pregnant, gloomy clouds that blocked out the sun, casting shadows all over the large expanse of the farm. The wind was picking up, nearly blowing me over. I pressed forward, shielding my eyes from the swirling dust.

In the horse stables, raised male voices erupted. My heart jumped in terror. I quickened my steps, dread filling my stomach.

There was a slave hunched in the corner, shirtless and raking up the hay. His ribs and spine poked harshly out of his skin, and I could see the ligaments sliding over his joints with each labored movement.

His jaundiced eyes met mine, and he shook his head in warning.

My steps faltered for a moment, but the sound of Eirin's voice pushed me forward. There she was, standing before two guards, pleading to them for some food. Their stony faces were twisted in disgust, anger, and impatience, staring her down.

“It does not have to be anything grand, stale bread will do! Leftovers from the household! Moldy pudding from the pantry! Burnt bagels from the bakery! Anything!”

“Nothing for you, slave girl! Get back to work!”

“Even the leftovers are too good for the likes of you, insolent pest!”

They spat at her and matched out of the stable through the other doorway. She wiped her face with her dusty dress, and I moved over to her sadly, shoulders hunched in dejection.

“Eirin—”

She must not have heard me, considering how weak I sounded. Squaring her shoulders, she followed the guards right into the winds outside. It was devastating to not be as fast as she was, because she had caught up with them, standing in their way again.

“You have to give me some food! A morsel will do! It does not have to be a full serving, I beg of you!

“You!”

“Get out of the way, and back to work!” The guard's face reddened with anger. “You must have a lot of free time on your hands, slave!”

“What would it take for you to have a bit of compassion!” Eirin screamed right back at him.

My entire body locked in deathly stillness.

The guards reared back, shocked at her audacious response. These were men with an ego twice the size of the entire city. They were nothing but lowly guards, servants to the lords and ladies of the household, but here in the farm? They were gods, they held our lives in their grasp, and they reveled in that.

No one had ever dared undermine their authority.

“Eirin!” I called, hurrying towards them in hopes of distracting the guards. It was futile, because the wind blew my voice right into oblivion.

She grabbed one of the guards' collar, screaming, “You have to give me something to eat! Anything! It's not even mine, someone who is sick really needs it! If all the slaves die, who would be left to work?!”

“Get this pest off me!”

Both guards were grabbing and pulling her, but she held steadfast. For a girl who was nothing but bones and skin, she resisted strongly. I was crying now, calling at her, begging her to stop. But the winds were too strong, and I was too slow, too weak to get to her on time.

I tripped over myself and crashed to the ground, eating dust. I strained to get back up, spurred on by Eirin's screams.

“Starvation drives people insane! If you don't give me any food right now, it's only a matter of time before we start to eat the farm animals! Do you hear that—?”

“—you cursed spawn of hell!” The guard she had in a chokehold suddenly snapped. His roar sent vibrations through my knees, and he swung his meaty fist right against her head. “I’ll crush you in a second!”

The blow was devastating. Eirin was flung straight against a massive cart which held hard, and heavy logs of timber. There was a sickening crack on impact, and her body slumped to the ground, unmoving. Blood slowly spread around her head, darkening the soil beneath her.

I screamed loud and raw, gathering strength out of thin air to run over.

The guards merely sneered over Eirin's slumped body and stepped over her to continue on their merry way.

I went after them, grabbing an arm. “You cannot leave her like this! Please, we have all learned our lesson! No one will ever challenge you again! Have a healer look at her, she's bleeding, please!”

The guard shoved me off, but I clung to his legs, wailing and begging, “I will take whatever punishment, but please help her! We shall work twice as hard—!”

A deafening slap sent me to the ground. My entire world spun, blood filling my mouth.

“You want a punishment?” Rough hands grabbed my red hair, forcing me up. “We'll show you never to place your filthy slave hands on a guard!”

Another slap tore my face apart. A kick to the gut, a punch to my ribs. I screamed till my throat bled, curling into myself against the pummeling and barrage of beatings. The pain was like fire, razing me down to ashes, and I could see nothing but white flashes.

Just when I thought I was at death's door, the beating stopped. They were cursing and spitting on me, but I could hear nothing. A vague glimpse of their boots moving away snuck into my blurry vision.

The gloomy clouds finally let go of their load.

Thunder and lightning flashed through the dark terrain, and the torrential downpour descended on me. I shivered, every movement a stab of pain, every breath a step closer to unconsciousness.

But Eirin… I had to do anything I could to save her. Stop her bleeding, get her out of the rain… keep her warm.

It was those thoughts that gave me the strength to get up from the bloody mud and crawl over to where she was slumped.

She was drenched, unshielded from the harsh rain, her blood flowing off with the muddy water.

“Eirin… this is my fault…please forgive me...” I sobbed heavily, tears and snot mixing in with the rain. I held her up, gently placing her head on my lap to shield her face from the rain. “I'm sorry…please open your eyes...”

She was not responding. The rain should have brought her out of her faint. Did she bleed too heavily?

My heart began to race, and my fingers frantically searched for a pulse. A flutter of her lashes. Her movement behind her eyelids. A tiny breath. But there was nothing.

Her sunken cheeks and high cheekbones were stiff. Her skin had turned grey, and her lips were blue and stained with congealed blood. I shakily felt her skin, and it was deathly cold.

She was gone. Eirin was dead.

A scream tore out of me, so loud and so raw, that the sky responded with a thunderous crash.