CHAPTER 242: WOLF AWAKENED

Aria and Rymora were barely about ten steps away when they saw it happen, the moment stretching before their eyes as though time itself had slowed to warn them of what was about to unfold.

Yes, the Zygon had been badly injured by the vampire guard, but even as the wounds tore across its strange hide, the flesh was already knitting back together, slowly and inexorably, a grotesque display of its resilience. The vampire guard, on the other hand, didn’t survive the attack; its body lay crumpled and still, a stark reminder of the cost of confronting such a creature.

Fire and sunlight—those were among the things vampires had always considered to be their lifelong enemies, forces that could reduce even the most powerful of their kind to ash. And now, faced with this monster, Aria understood why those old terrors had never faded.

"Shit!" Rymora swore aloud, the word ripped from her throat with raw, startled fear, while Aria couldn’t help but do the same, though in her case the shock resounded inwardly, as though echoing inside her chest rather than spilling out.

Already running, with no hesitation whatsoever, Aria threw herself into a sprint in the opposite direction, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. She could hear the rapid drumming of Rymora’s footsteps behind her, the werewolf’s speed matching hers stride for stride, if not even outpacing her. Together, they raced as if they could somehow outrun death itself, their lives flashing before their eyes in staccato bursts of memory and regret.

But they had barely covered any distance at all when something darted in front of them—a blur of motion, solidifying into a form that blocked their way with chilling finality. They halted so abruptly it was a wonder they didn’t tumble forward.

It was the Zygon. Its body loomed before them, still seething with the remnants of its own healing power, and it chuckled with mirth—a deep, awful sound that rolled like thunder laced with mockery.

"This is going to be fun! I’ll turn into you and sleep with Zyren! Influence him from within! He himself wouldn’t know how he died before he did!" it spoke, its words slick and venomous even as it zeroed its gaze on Rymora. A frown curled at the edge of its strange lips, a fleeting twist of irritation that revealed how little it liked that Rymora was still alive.

Without an extra word, it darted forward, a blur of claws and intent, its hands slashing toward her too fast for either woman to adequately react.

The force alone sent Rymora scattering in the other direction, her body spinning out of control as a howl of pain tore from her throat. Aira—Aria—moved instinctively to run after her, her heart thudding with panic, desperate to do her best to heal her even as her own terror clawed at her insides.

Beyond annoyed, almost enraged at herself, that all she could actually do was heal. It might even have been better if she had a weapon with her—anything at all to fight with—but she didn’t. Her hands, her aura, her gift, that was all she had.

Rymora groaned loudly in pain, the sound jagged and guttural, in a way that Aria instantly knew meant she was seriously wounded. Yet she froze, unable to move, as she watched the Zygon turn its full, terrible attention toward her. Its expression shifted into something more determined, more focused.

It was clear it had every intention of biting her head off as it widened its triangular-shaped mouth and revealed rows upon rows of jagged teeth, an elongated red tongue snaking out between them with obscene slowness.

Its movements were slow, deliberate even, but it didn’t need to be fast. Aria shot her leg forward, desperate, to kick its mouth. But instead of striking it, she felt the creature’s claws swipe across her leg, tearing into her flesh, swiping it from her body.

Her scream split the air. The agony was white-hot, blinding, and somewhere in the haze she realized it had torn her knee from its socket, wrenched it away as though she were made of paper. She saw the creature chew on it with grisly delight. Tears filled her eyes; she screamed and moaned, the sound breaking apart as helplessness overtook her.

Tears dripped onto the ground as she balled her fists, staring at the dirt beneath her. She waited for death, her body trembling, not even bothering to heal herself since she couldn’t see any use in doing such a thing. What good was a healing gift when your enemy was this monstrous, this unstoppable?

The Zygon descended on her, looming larger by the second. Aira’s eyes closed, as though bracing for the inevitable, when she suddenly heard a sound that cut through the haze of her pain—a loud growl.

It didn’t sound like a human or even a vampire. It was low, sharp, primal. Her eyes flew open, and she raised her gaze just in time to see a large wolf—a massive, white-furred beast—leap at the Zygon, its jaws clamping down, its claws raking. It took the creature down with a ferocity that shook the ground.

From then on it became a brutal, blood-soaked fight, each strike and slash echoing with violence. Both sides clawed and tore at each other, but it was clear at first that the Zygon was winning. Its movements were heavy, but the damage it inflicted was overwhelming. The werewolf’s body bore wound after wound.

But Aira didn’t care where the werebeast came from; she didn’t dare to think about it. She instantly channeled all the healing aura she could into it. The effort was tricky—dangerous—especially since the last thing she wanted was to accidentally heal the Zygon instead. Her mind burned with the focus it required.

The fighting only escalated as claws dug into skin and fur while the werewolf sank its fangs deep into the Zygon’s eyes. Blood sprayed in dark arcs. It was bloody, savage. Aira herself didn’t dare to relent, even as she slowly became aware she was running on empty, her reserves draining to nothing.

If she stopped channeling her ability and the werewolf died, then it instantly meant that she herself was sure to follow, as her death would be next. That knowledge steadied her trembling hands even as her vision swam.

"Graaa!" the werewolf growled, a roar of rage and pain, as the Zygon slashed it apart and hurled it to the side. But its wounds healed almost instantly, knitting shut as quickly as they were made. It dived back into the fray, almost as though it knew it could not relent, could not give the Zygon any breathing space, unless it wanted to be killed.

The fighting continued, the ground beneath them slick with blood, but this time it was clear that the Zygon was the one losing steam.

It was almost like all its energy was slowly waning. Even its wounds, once so quick to seal, began to lag, to gape open longer, no longer healing as rapidly as before.

This only made the werewolf—this unknown savior—refuse to relent. It pressed its assault, while Aria herself, still sprawled on the floor, only increased the amount of energy she channeled toward it. She gave everything she had.

The only healing she reserved for herself was just enough to stop the bleeding where her missing leg should have been, to seal the gaping wound and keep herself conscious.

Finally, the Zygon collapsed to the ground. The white werewolf pounced without hesitation, tearing its head from its huge shoulders. The savage action made Aira’s heart leap in grim satisfaction—an act she completely approved of.

If there had been fire nearby, she would have gotten up immediately to find it, to finish the job. But she couldn’t move. She was too tired, too frightened, as the white, furry werewolf turned its huge and bloody mouth her way.

Its yellow eyes fixed on her seriously. Aira stared back, her heart hammering, scrambling backward slowly. She regretted pouring so much healing aura into it, regretted how much stronger it was now—its state even much better than her own.

Slowly, the werewolf began to walk toward her, each step deliberate, even as Aira scrambled back on one knee, gasping in pain.

"Stay back!" she snapped. "Who are you?" Her mind raced. There was no way Zyren would have allowed a werewolf to protect her in secret.

But barely had the words left her mouth when she watched in utter shock as the werewolf began to transform. Its body contorted, fur retreating, bones shifting, until the beast was gone and in its place stood the last person she expected to see.

Considering the fact that she had forgotten about her after the beast had tossed her away, prepared to eat Aria.

"Rymora!" Aria gasped, the word a mixture of disbelief and relief, even as Rymora stood naked before her, only a couple of stretches and bruises marring her body.

Even those were already beginning to heal as Aria, despite everything, grinned at her.

"Well, if I knew you were so powerful, I would have told you to attack it from the start!" she joked, her tone filled with relief. She didn’t flinch at the secret of Rymora being a werewolf; she frankly didn’t care about the way vampires looked down on them.

"To be honest, I’m a runt! My connection to my wolf is almost nonexistent, but I guess being at the verge of death somehow helped!" Rymora told her. Aira nodded in response, even as she went ahead and used every bit of her ability that was left to heal her leg.