Chapter 92 Attacks from the Past
Work was as usual as Klishei did not know the meaning of sleep.
A snarl ripped through the quiet night, not the urban growl of a distant bus, but something raw, guttural.
Klishei froze, fingers hovering above the keys. The sound resonated deep within her, a primal chord struck. She pushed back from her desk, the chair scraping loud against the floor. Another snarl, closer this time, followed by a crash. Glass shattered somewhere nearby. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through her.
She moved to the window, peering down. A hulking shadow detached itself from the deeper gloom of the alleyway, then another, and another. They moved with an unnatural speed, their forms blurring, shifting. Not men. Not human. Their eyes, luminous pinpricks in the darkness, fixed on her building. A shiver traced its way down her spine. The stories, the ones she wrote, suddenly felt less like fiction.
A thud against her front door made her jump back. The wood groaned, splinters dusting the floor. Panic seized her. She backed away, stumbling over a rug, her breath catching in her throat. The door splintered again, a larger crack appearing.
“Klishei!” A voice, rough with urgency, cut through the din.
The door burst inward, ripped from its hinges. Three massive forms filled the entryway, their bodies muscled, covered in coarse fur. Their jaws dripped, teeth long and sharp. Werewolves. Not a myth. Real.
“No!”
A blur of motion, dark and fast, launched itself into the room. Yeseus. He moved like a phantom, intercepting the lead wolf. His body, leaner than the beasts, slammed into the creature, twisting. A yelp of pain, then a wet thud as the wolf hit the wall. He was faster than they were, a whirlwind of fists and feet, but they were three, and he was one.
“Run!” he barked, his voice strained.
Klishei stared, paralyzed.
Yeseus, the quiet shadow from across the street, the man who had haunted her periphery for years, fought these monsters. His movements were fluid, honed, but she saw the tremor in his arms, the slight hesitation in his steps. He wasn't like them. He wasn't whole.
One wolf lunged, its claws raking across Yeseus’s side. He recoiled, a gasp escaping him, a dark stain blossoming on his shirt. He spun, driving an elbow into the wolf’s jaw, sending it reeling. But the other two closed in. They were relentless, their attacks a savage dance of tooth and claw.
“Get out of here!” His voice was a guttural roar, filled with a desperation she had never heard.
He parried a blow, then another, his face contorted in pain and fury. He was fighting for her. He was fighting to die. That realization struck her harder than any physical blow.
A wolf, larger than the others, broke through Yeseus’s guard, its powerful jaws clamping down on his shoulder. Yeseus cried out, a sound that tore through Klishei’s soul, raw and agonizing. He struggled, punching blindly, but the wolf held fast, tearing at his flesh. Blood, dark and rich, sprayed across the room, splattering the pristine white walls, her books, her face.
Klishei screamed.
The sight of his blood, the metallic tang filling the air, ignited something deep inside her. A dam burst. Images flooded her mind, a torrent of memories, sharp and vivid.
It all crashed over her, a tidal wave of truth. Her identity, the Phoenix Bride, the massacre, Daevar, Yeseus’s curse, his sacrifice, the Cosmos, Zarakhi, the Rebirth Ritual. Every fragmented dream, every inexplicable ache, every whisper of a forgotten past solidified into horrifying reality. She wasn't just a novelist. She was a goddess, or had been. She remembered. Everything.
Yeseus staggered back, ripping his shoulder free from the wolf’s grip. The wound was deep, gushing. He swayed, his eyes meeting hers, a flicker of something she couldn’t decipher—relief? Regret?—before he collapsed. The wolves circled him, their snarls low, triumphant.
“No!” The word tore from Klishei’s throat, imbued with a power she didn’t know she possessed. A golden light pulsed around her, a faint shimmer that made the wolves pause, their heads tilting.
She knelt beside Yeseus, her hands trembling as she touched his bleeding shoulder. His skin was cold, clammy. His breath hitched, shallow.
“Yeseus?” Her voice cracked. She remembered him, the true him, the last Alpha, the protector, the cursed one who had watched over her, loved her, died for her.
He coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, clouded with pain, found hers. A weak smile touched his face. "You...remember."
“I remember everything,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face, hot trails against the cold blood on her cheek. The pain was unbearable, a thousand years of loss compressed into a single moment. He was dying. Again. Because of her.
Her mind raced, frantically searching for answers, for solutions. The Council. They would help. They had to.
She closed her eyes, focusing, reaching out with every fiber of her being, summoning the power she once wielded, the power she had forgotten.
“Council of the Cosmos! Hear me!”
Her plea echoed through the void, a desperate cry.
A shimmering portal, faint and ethereal, flickered into existence above them. Three figures, indistinct yet radiating immense power, materialized within its shimmering depths. Their forms were like starlight woven into cloth, ancient and indifferent.
Klishei Aizal, a voice resonated in her mind, cool and devoid of warmth. The Phoenix has departed from you. You are human now. Your connection to us is severed.
“He’s dying!” she cried, her voice raw, pleading. “Yeseus is dying! He saved me! You can’t let him die again!”
His death is not our concern, another voice, equally cold, responded. His curse is broken. His suffering ends. It is his reward.
“But… but he protected me! He deserves more!” She clutched Yeseus tighter, his body growing heavier, colder in her arms. The golden light around her flickered, fading. The wolves, sensing the Council’s indifference, began to stir, their eyes once again fixed on their prey.
His fate is sealed, Phoenix-vessel-no-longer. The third voice, a whisper like distant cosmic dust, settled on her.
Do not interfere with the natural order. Death is not a punishment for him, but a release.
The shimmering portal began to shrink, the starlight figures receding into the void.
“No! Wait!” Klishei screamed, but it was too late. The portal winked out of existence, leaving her in the shattered room, cradling a dying man, surrounded by hungry wolves, utterly alone.
Despair, cold and absolute, threatened to consume her. Yeseus stirred in her arms, a shudder running through him. His eyes fluttered open, meeting hers. A faint smile, tinged with resignation, touched his lips.
“Don’t… don’t be sad, Klishei,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It’s… finally over.”
His eyelids drifted shut. His breathing grew shallow, then stopped. His body went limp.