Chapter 6 6

Elias's POV

I awoke in the dead of night and my body was burning up.

The kind of fire that immunity doesn’t protect against, not the fever- or infection-fueled type. This felt different, deeper down, wrong in a way that made it feel as if my blood were boiling underneath my skin. I wheezed and rolled off the bed, on hands and knees on stone so cold that can’t remember how it felt to burn my palms against it.

It did not.

My heart was pounding against my ribs too quickly, too heavily. My lungs were heaving, as though I had just run for miles. Every pore of my body seemed to scream and I didn't know why. I had not been injured. I had not been poisoned. Other than touch her I'd done nothing.

Narnia.

Her name rung in my head and with it flashed a memory. The burn scar on my hand where our flesh had touched. The way my body had responded, as though something within me had known her. The dreams that had come after, all winding and peculiar and filled with moon light and blood.

I held onto the edge of the bed and struggled to stand. I felt an unnatural strength returned to my legs. I could feel it, the weight in my arms, my flesh thickening muscle overnight. I staggered over to the washbasin and doused my face with cold water, hoping it would help me think.

When I looked up, I froze.

My face looked back at me from the lacquered mirror. But it wasn’t entirely me looking at my reflection. And my left eye, the one that had been dark brown like my father’s eyes since I was an infant, was different. It was gold now. Brilliant, blazing gold, with A rim of silver streaking the iris like moonlight trapped in amber.

I stumbled backward, sucking in short, panicked breaths. This was not possible. This was not real.

But as I looked again, the eye was gold.

I took a piece of cloth and knotted it around my head, gathering all my hair on to the left side so that it would cover half my face. I was shaky as I worked, my mind whirling. What was happening to me? Was this some kind of curse? Had touching Narnia done this?

I needed answers. But I couldn’t have anyone see me like this. Not the guards. Not the priests. Not Vaera.

Especially not Vaera.

In haste I put on my clothes and went out of my chamber before the serving men were up. The corridors had no more light than the torches that wavered in the draft of early morning. I drifted through them like a ghost, head down, face covered. But as I walked, there were still things I’d never observed through that lens.

I could hear heartbeats. They are here by the dozens, pulsing through the stone walls, all as different from one another as they are identical. Here I could catch smells in the air, bread-baking in the kitchens, sweat of guards on patrol all mixed with the blood from beneath. I could see in the dark perfectly, every shadow was sharp and clear.

My body’s senses had been far too keen.

I made it to the war room and shoved the door open, relieved to find no one inside. I put my hand on the table edge and leaned down breathing heavily. My fingers clutched the wood, and I could hear a loud cracking sound. I looked down and there were deep scratches where my hands used to be, like I had crushed the table with my bare hands.

I pulled away, staring at my palms. They looked normal. Human. But the strength was not in them.

Behind me the door swung open and I whirled around, thumping heart. A guard named Jorah burst through, then three other guards. In their hands were maps and reports, and their faces wore determined expressions.

“Your Grace,” Jorah murmured, bowing his head in respect. “We are open to the next attack.”

I made myself nod, sit, act like everything was business as usual. The officers consulted the maps, covering the table with them as they indicated where Corvin's defenses were weakest and planned how to breach the wolf walls.

Jorah's voice was cold, assured."We need to move in under cover of dark. A raid on their outer villages. Kill the populace, burn their houses. This going to be too much for them and make Corvin withdraw his warriors.”

His words were like a punch to the gut. My stomach twisted and bile rose in my throat. The very first time in my life that the idea of hunting wolves didn’t make me righteously mad, but rather nauseated.

I saw their faces in my mind. Not monsters. Not beasts. Just people. Families. Children.

"No," I said sharply.

Jorah blinked. "Your Majesty?"

"No," I repeated, more sharply than I had meant. "We will not target civilians."

The officers exchanged confused glances. Jorah frowned. “But, Sire, this is the manner in which we have always fought. Fear is our greatest weapon."

“Not any more,” I said, getting to my feet. The chair grated across the stone floor. “We are going to hit with military targets only. No villages. No families."

Jorah started to retort, but I shut him down. "That is my decision. Dismissed."

They exited slowly, their faces registering shock. The door closed and I let my head fall into my hands, collapsing back onto the chair. What was wrong with me? I’d taken raids like that before. I had burned villages. I had killed without hesitation. It was what I’d been taught. That’s what the Guild demanded.

But the thought now turned me sick.

I could not hunt anymore. I could not kill. And I did not understand why.

Desperate, I summoned Brother Malarik. There was one person who could give me answers, if anyone could — him. He had always been unlike the other priests, asking questions and seeking truth rather than blindly following dogma.

He came before an hour, his robes covered in dust and his face somber. I sent the guards away and shut the door after him.

"Show me," Malarik said quietly.

I hesitated and then I pulled the cloth from my head and let down my hair. When he laid eyes on the golden eye, Malarik's eyes widened. He drew near and examined it critically, and then took my hand to look at the feint silver tracery upon my palm.

“You are transforming,” he said soberly.

"Into what?" I demanded, my voice raw.

Malarik did not answer immediately. He went to the window, and looked forth upon the mountain of light in the east, with his hands behind him. “Describe to me very precisely what you experienced when you touched her.

I told him everything. The burning sensation. The silver mark. The dreams. The way my body had moved, as though something within me had woken.

Malarik's face went pale. “The ancient texts tell us this,” he murmured. "A bond forged between hunter and prey. Predator and prey. But it should be impossible. Unless...” He broke off, shaking his head.

"Unless what?" I pressed.

"Of course, unless the lines of blood should be connected…..” slowly observed Malarik. “Unless flesh and blood are not what binds you and her. Something ancient."

I stared at him. "That makes no sense."

“This is all crazy,” Malarik said. "But the evidence is here." He pointed at my eye, at my hand. "You are changing, Elias. And if the Guild find out, they’ll murder you.”

Fear coiled in my chest. "What do I do?"

"Do not speak of this to anyone," Malarik said firmly. "Especially not the Guild. I need time to investigate, to figure out what’s going on. But until then, you have to hide this. Do you understand?"

I nodded slowly, having to swallow first.

Malarik departed and I was alone once more. I covered my eye and went back to my quarters, locking the door behind me. That night I fell asleep from weariness in spite of my terror.

And I dreamed.

This time, the vision was clearer than it had ever been before. I was in a wood, and the pale reflection of silver moonlight made my body tremendous and strong. I glanced down at the arms which, in place of human ones, squirmed under me along the shelving roof; they were thick and silver covered all over with fur. I was a wolf. But I was still me.

Beside me stood another wolf. Dainty, snow white with heterochromic eyes. One gold. One grey.

Narnia.

Soft and ancient and impossibly sad, a woman’s voice whispered through the trees.

"The curse is not your enemy. Denial is. Accept what you are, or the life you love.”

I woke up gasping, heart pounding, the words ringing in my mind.

Accept what you are.

But I didn’t even know who or what I was.