Chapter 205

With a sickening crunch, Rashka's paw connected with Randall's side, sending him crashing to the ground. The pain was excruciating. He coughed blood as he gasped for air.

Randall lay sprawled on the blood-soaked earth. His breath came in ragged gasps. His vision blurred at the edges, and the world seemed to tilt and sway.

His gaze traveled in the direction of Reyana. He watched in dread as Reyana unleashed the full extent of her abilities. It was as if she was a goddess descending upon the battlefield to deliver righteous judgment.

His warriors were clearly outnumbered. A lot of them were already dead.

He stood up weakly, trying to raise his sword, his arm heavy and trembling. He could barely hold the weapon, let alone defend himself. He was bleeding profusely from all sides of his wounded body.

It was almost as if his healing abilities were no longer there, even before he lost connection with his wolf. Rashka came prepared with dark powers that no one could ever imagine.

Rashka raised his weapon for the final blow, his eyes alight with the thrill of impending victory. Randall, unable to stand any longer, collapsed to his knees, the sword slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground.

Rashka's heart had grown cold and hard, his soul darkened by intentions that left no room for brotherly love. He looked down at Randall, his face set in a grim mask.

In that moment, time seemed to slow. Randall's life flashed before his eyes—the few joyous moments spent with Reyana before his foolishness made him lose her, the rush of past victories, and the warmth of his childhood.

He remembered the sunny afternoons spent running through the fields with Rashka, back when they were young and still brothers, not just in blood but in spirit.

He remembered their parents' laughter, who had loved them both, though in his heart, it felt they had cherished Rashka more.

Tears mingled with the blood on Randall's face, the emotional pain surpassing the physical. He thought of his warriors, his pack, the dying Klara, and all the dreams he had for a big future, now crumbling to ashes around him.

Was this really what he wanted? To end like this after everything?

Randall bloodied and bowed, gazed up at his brother with eyes clouded by pain and regret.

"Please," Randall whispered, unsure if he was speaking to Rashka or some higher power. "Don't let it end like this."

Rashka hesitated, his weapon raised, but his heart stirred by the raw emotion in his brother's plea.

"We have always had a bigger enemy, Rashka. It isn't me. But the person who made me do what I did to you." Randall let out weakly. Regret twisted his guts. He knew he had been tormented by his actions for so long now, but this time... It was different. He felt genuine regret.

If only he hadn't listened to her back then, maybe he wouldn't be in this situation now. Randall thought with his eyes closed.

Known for his ability to sense and hear people's thoughts whenever he chooses to, Rashka's curiosity piqued. "Who is 'her,' Randall? Who made you do this?" he asked, his voice softening, probing the depths of Randall's tormented soul.

Randall coughed, struggling to form the words. "Is there really a need to know, Rashka? I think It changes nothing. I deserve your wrath," he murmured, resignation lining his weary features.

But Rashka, driven by a sudden urge to understand rather than to condemn, pressed on. "Tell me."

A heavy sigh escaped Randall, and he met Rashka's gaze, his own eyes heavy with despair and regret, "Jealousy, Rashka. I was jealous... Our parents, they favored you. Loved you more. Cherished you so much that it hurt. You were always their favorite son. I was just... the other son."

Rashka's expression faltered, confusion and conflict playing across his features. "Jealousy? But Randall, they loved you immensely. Father always spoke of your potential and kindness. You were cherished, just in different ways. He saw you as being stronger than me and always emphasized your strengths!"

Randall shook his head slowly, his voice a pained whisper. "It's hard to see the sun when you've spent too long staring into the shadows. I felt overshadowed, insignificant. And 'she'... she saw that weakness, used it. Told me I could be more, could lead better than you ever would. I believed her, let that belief fuel my actions against you. Actions I lived every day of my life regretting."

Rashka lowered his weapon, the urge to understand now overshadowing his desire for revenge. He sank to his knees beside Randall, the brothers' eyes locking in a moment of shared vulnerability. "I never knew you felt that way. I thought we were brothers, equals, family." For the first time in so many years, Rashka's eyes welled up, but he didn't let the tears drop.

Randall's eyes welled with tears, the floodgates of his long-held pain opening. "I wanted to be, but I lost myself in my envy and in her manipulations. By the time I realized, it was too late."

Confusion seeded hesitation, and as Rashka lowered his weapon, visibly shaken by the revelations and his brother's raw emotion, the ripple effect was immediate.

Warriors who had been locked in the heated combat moments before now lowered their arms, stepping back to watch the unfolding drama.

Commands barked by the head of the warriors to 'stand down' carried across the field, turning the tide of battle into a sudden, eerie stillness.

"Who is this HER you speak of, Randall? Perhaps my battle is not over yet. Everyone who was involved in bringing me this far into torment and darkness must be visited with my wrath!" Rashka demanded, his voice hard with more thirst for revenge.

"Kasiri, the head of the Blood Crescent pack witches before father died."