Chapter 16: Marking The Dead

  Evanora’s POV

  Zagan and I returned to our room, flanked by her guards. He collapsed onto his bed, his eyes never leaving me.

  “Who is she?” he asked.

  “Just another Devourix,” I replied, my voice light but distant. The truth lingered on my tongue, but Arabella’s disownment had already planted its poison.

  Zagan’s brow furrowed. “How did their veins just appear and disappear like that?”

  I shrugged. “Must be some trick I haven’t mastered.”

  He studied me for a long moment. “But she’s like you. That’s why I wasn’t afraid. Still… there’s something respectable about her—familiar, even. I haven’t seen that in anyone since…”

  His voice trailed off into a faint smile.

  I let out a dry chuckle. “Trust me, Zagan. She’s more dangerous than I’ll ever be. Keep your distance.”

  He raised a brow. “I’ll wait until you return to hold the power. The mirror’s words still echo in my ears.”

  The stone beneath my feet felt cold and unforgiving; my foot ached for the protection of my boot. I said nothing. I only nodded.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Zagan fell silent. His quiet settled between us, heavy and unspoken.

  ---

  The knock came not long after.

  Zagan rose to answer it.

  Gamma Rudy stood in the doorway, swaying slightly on his feet, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. “Hey, you two,” he called, his voice rough.

  Zagan gave him a dry look. “Yes, Gamma. What can we do for you?”

  Rudy’s eyelids drooped. “More casualties at the site… We need help clearing the battlefield.”

  He looked at Zagan, waiting.

  Zagan didn’t answer. He waited for me.

  I nodded.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Zagan said.

  Rudy handed him a small device. “Use this to mark the bodies. Retrieval teams will follow.”

  He turned away, supported by another pack member.

  I looked at Zagan. “Let’s get this done.”

  He nodded, and together we stepped back into the night.

  ---

  We moved with deliberate caution, our footsteps quiet against the blood-soaked ground. As the leader of the Exanimates, I learned to conserve my strength—to choose when to strike and when to endure.

  Zagan’s gaze swept the terrain, sharp and alert. I trusted him to watch my back, to sense danger before it reached me. My own pulse remained steady, calm in a way that surprised even me.

  I had faced enemies before. I would not falter now.

  Our eyes met. Without a word, we adjusted our path, angling away from a shadowed ridge where the air felt wrong.

  When we crested the hill, the carnage unfolded below us like a torn tapestry.

  Bodies lay piled and scattered—some ripped apart, others burned beyond recognition. The air was thick with smoke and decay, heavy enough to cling to the lungs.

  And yet, life endured.

  Werewolves and Devourix moved among the fallen, tending to the wounded with grim focus. Their expressions were set, determined—no triumph, only necessity.

  “Mark the bodies,” Kaden ordered, already moving through the chaos.

  Of course he arrived at work.

  We nodded. Zagan surveyed the field, calculating routes and risks. I drew in a slow breath, bracing myself.

  The battlefield stretched before us—carnage, confusion, consequence.

  We worked quickly, marking the dead, separating the rogue from the ally. No prayers. No speeches.

  Only the task.

  The silence pressed in as we continued .

  A bloodied werewolf, her fur matted and dark, carefully lifted a wounded soldier onto a makeshift stretcher. Nearby, a Devourix's hands moved with a deadly precision, his dark magic seeping into the wounds of another soldier, a desperate bid to stem the bleeding.

  As we combed through the bodies, Zagan and I stumbled upon a Devourix. But to our surprise, he was still clinging to life. His sunken eyes locked onto mine, and he whispered a desperate plea: "Help...please." His grip on my arm was feeble, his skin icy to the touch. I could sense the hunger gnawing at him, the desperation for blood. There was something about him that struck a chord – he seemed like I had been, with a Devourix heart beating within me, the visible nerves on his face a testament to his suffering. We called for help to attend to him, and then we moved on.