DREADWOLF - Chapter 138

◈ Chapter 138:

Rain wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he broke his way through the door, but finding Lyra and Opal already with the Lord was not high on his list. Even less high on his list was finding Lyra frozen in mid-air with a rapier thrust through her chest, her body awash with blood, her wool dyed crimson.

The only reason he didn’t lunge for the startled Lord then and there like a mindless animal was the shock in seeing Lyra… dead. That was exactly how she appeared, the blade had gone directly through her heart from his perspective.

There was just… so much blood, nothing could survive what had been done to her. Lyra was gone. That was the only thing that could be said about such a sight.

His throat constricted painfully tight as he stared, completely at a loss, a dark sea of emotion about to break over his head, about to bury him.

Then his reasoning finally caught up with his dismay and he took note that she wasn’t just being held still in mid-air, it was more than that, her hair was frozen too, as though caught and suspended underwater, a very visible cloud of loose strands unmoving around her head, her ribbons floating behind mid leap. From there it was only the crazed and desperate calculation of hope, the only life raft his drowning mind could cling to.

Lyra had been stabbed while frozen by some kind of magic, and might not die until she was unfrozen.

But what the hell could he do with this information? The Lord must have been the one to do this to her, a leveler’s Skill that he possessed. Wranvyre had moved forward since he had entered the room, gesturing wildly as he shouted at Rose and Rose shouted back.

Rain hadn’t heard a word of it, his heartbeat the only thing filling his ears. He needed… he needed to get to Lyra without the Lord ending his freezing Skill, then retrieve the healing potions that Lyra had used on Red’s leg wound and use them on her before she was unfrozen. It was the only likely way to save her life, but also an impossibility as the Lord would clearly never allow it.

He could not advance without Lyra dying.

His head burned as he tried to think of a way to get the result he needed, a way to save her, a scenario where the sheep girl did not die. There was nothing physical he could do no matter how he struggled with the problem, maybe using his predatory darkness?

But before he could even begin to form a centipede or a rat something caught his attention.

Somebody else in the room had apparently gone through the exact same mental calculation as he just had and come to the exact same conclusion. The difference was, they were far better positioned to do something about it.

A red scaled set of claws shakily emerged from the bag on Lyra’s hip. A small glass bottle held in its grip.

Rain watched, stunned, his lips slightly parted, as the madly wobbling and clearly terrified arm moved up, up Lyra’s front, the bottle tipping, almost spilling, then was clumsily thrown over her chest, the healing potion washing against her wound, mingling with her blood.

The entire bottle was emptied over her and the spill of blood pouring down her body started to slow. The skinny red scaled arm pulled back and another bottle was produced.

“I’m going to build you a hoard to make dragons go insane with jealousy Red,” he mumbled, watching in disbelief as the second life saving bottle went over her.

“Did this golem of yours just speak?”

Rain blinked and turned his attention to the Lord, for the first time processing what it was that he was hearing.

“No. Stop distracting from the point. I asked you a simple question.”

“What do you expect me to say?”

Rose practically spat as she replied. “My name. Say my name.”

Wranvyre for once looked nonplussed.

“You smash down my chamber door and demand that I speak your name? I know your name, Rose. What? Did you expect me to say I did not? I have many many children and many many extramarital children but I know the names of every single one of them. Did you think my lack of acknowledgement of you meant I didn’t know? Why Rose, I’m sorry to tell you this but it had nothing to do with that, you just haven’t been of significant worth to yet merit mention.”

The teenager seemed momentarily surprised, as if she really hadn’t expected him to know.

But then she grit her teeth.

“That- that doesn’t matter! That’s not why I’m here! I know what you did, I saw everything! y-you killed them!”

“…You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that. Killed who, when?”

“You butchered him and his family and- and you got off on it!- you fucking monster! No, you are worse than that! You’re filth, a d-demon!”

“…Still going to need to be more specific.”

Rose let out a strangled scream of outrage, her hands rising as though she wanted to lunge for his neck then and there.

“Control yourself Rose, you are no better than an animal like this. Really, to think you went and got yourself pregnant and thought this was the ideal moment to-

“I’m not p-pregnant-”

“Of course you are. What? Are you saying you just over ate? I think not. Your mind is clearly addled in your motherly state. It happens, pregnancy leads to extreme paranoia, and sometimes even dreams that can be mistaken for reality. Can you not see that? You are quite literally looking upon the sheep who murdered your mother and yet all your anger is for me. That is wrong Rose, you know that deep down. There is something wrong with your head Rose, you are sick, your pregnancy is very obviously making you sick, anyone can see that, it’s only you alone who can’t see what is happening here.”

Rose’s face twisted through a series of increasingly furious expressions as he spoke, his mistaken attempt to manipulate her only making her more and more agitated.

“Shutup! Shutup! SHUTUP!”

Her hands flung up and the bed behind Wranvyre exploded to life, curtains ripping from rings as bed sheets lifted into the air, tossing aside the still unconscious female occupants. The lengths of cloth moved violently, twisting like thrashing snakes, ready to strike at the Lord’s back.

Rain let the darkness slip from his body, misted predation spilling through various rents in the bear’s fabric. Things were clearly rapidly deteriorating and heading toward a fight.

“You’re making a mistake Rose.”

“You killed my father’s family! You killed my father!”

“You’re lying to yourself Rose. The vilest vinegar of poisonous lies.”

“I d-don’t care what you have to say anymore! Fitz, move me closer so I can kill him!”

Rain lifted a foot but then stopped mid step, both Rose and himself perfectly stilled, frozen in place.

Wranvyre let out an irritated sigh.

Behind him the once floating bedding flopped to the floor and Lyra dropped out of the air like a sack of potatoes, just barely turning to her side as she fell and avoiding having the rapier rammed all the way through her chest.

Seeing her hit the ground Opal scrambled over to the sheep girl, a feeling of utter dismay opening up in her gut. Having your heart cut apart by a sword wasn’t something that could usually be survived, even seeing Red frantically splashing potions over her chest didn’t give her much hope for the sheep girl’s chances.

She looked… very dead. Beyond pale from blood loss, perfectly still and unmoving.

She hesitantly pressed her hand against her front in disbelief. Nothing, and then… a thump, the beat of a heart.

But there was something wrong, her heartbeat felt off, fluttery.

A rasp came from the side and she turned her head in alarm as Lyra breathed a whisper.

“It…hurts…it hurts so bad-”

Opal slapped her hand over her mouth then jerked it away as she realised that was as clear a sign of her still being alive as her whispered voice.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Wranvyre looking at the sheep girl.

“Y-you- you killed her!” she managed to get out in a moment of frantic choked panic.

Wranvyre didn’t even glance at her, his eyes remain fixed on Lyra’s still body.

The sheep girl remained still and silent and very dead looking and after a moment Wranvyre turned back to what he was doing, apparently not realising she still breathed, albeit barely.

Opal let out a silent sigh of relief and watched the Lord carefully before turning back to Lyra. A red scaled set of claws had emerged from the bag on Lyra’s hip and Opal took the small bottle it held, carefully hiding what she was doing from view as she tipped it down the sheep girl’s throat a little at a time. She peeked at the frozen teddy bear as she tipped up the potion.

She knew what the bear was now of course. The height was the first clue, but the black mist filled with teeth and talons seeping from the fabric was a much more obvious clue.

But she struggled to understand why Rain had put on a giant teddy bear costume. What the hell was he doing?!

She shook her head in disbelief as Red handed her the remaining healing potions. It didn’t matter, he was still frozen along with a Lamia wrapped around him who seemed to take issue with the Lord, an ally maybe?

Wranvyre hummed as he grabbed another arm full of bedding up from the ground, roughly bundling it before slithering over to the nearby wardrobe and thrusting the fabric inside with the rest and locking the door. He closed a drawer before turning back, the severed tip of his tail neatly tidied away in a silk nest, kept safe for later reattachment.

The bedding that had been strewn across the ground had been almost entirely hidden away by then, and only a single bed sheet remained, half under a passed-out Lamia on the bed. Wranvyre gave her a sour look, then he slithered over to Opal in several quick motions. Opal fell back in alarm, unprepared for an attack. But then he simply reached down and picked up Lyra’s black knife that had fallen nearby, casually spinning it in his fingers as he rose.

“Back where you belong.”

He turned and in one fluid strike slit the throat of the nearest Lamia girl who had been tossed aside by Rose. She gurgled as she died, even now still too out of it to struggle back to consciousness before her life ebbed away with the waterfall of red washing over her bare chest.

“I believe that counts as Lyra’s fourth official murder. Hmm. I suppose her theft of the knife worked out nicely to my advantage in the end, with this there will be no question of her actions.” He finished slipping the knife through the next Lamia’s throat and held it up, blood drizzling from the shiny black metal as he examined it. “Was that the intent from the start? to help me? Poorly executed but…”

He flipped the knife and slashed the next Lamia’s throat with a casual flick of the wrist.

The last of the Lamia girls died with a sigh of released breath and he pulled back, turning and swiftly slithering close to the only living Lamia left in the room other than himself. Rose.

The black blade lifted and pressed against her neck, her skin indenting under the sharp implement.

“Idiot child. I remember all of my progeny’s names, direct or not. I’ve memorised countless scripts, a few hundred names is nothing at all.” He paused as he looked into her eyes.

“But most of all I do remember looks, visual memory is so much more malleable than verbal, any actor who has been forced to memorise a script knows that, and the tricks to make things stick. I remember you, more than remember, you and the others, Julia, Arissa. I remember your plays made in an attempt to please me and more importantly I remember your stage presence, pulling the audience into your flow, your web of emotive motions.”

The blade faltered against her neck. “Why the hell are you here of all my family Rose. Such a waste. Such a fruitless goddam waste.” His eyes narrowed as he stared at the frozen teenager’s face.

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