Chapter 2 AN ENEMY OR A SAVIOR?

Chapter Two

AN ENEMY OR A SAVIOR?

~Ignas Pov~

...The Skull Pack

The battlefield fell silent save for the whistling of the wind through the grass and quiet, smothered gasps from the injured. I froze, staring at the man who just saved me, my breath caught in my throat as blood oozed out of the gash in his head into his silver hair onto the ground.

He didn't move, lay still, his giant wolf form shattered. My heart thundered painfully in my chest as I tried to wrap my brain around what had just happened.

"Lykon…", I whispered the name I had overheard in whispers amongst his pack. It did not matter now. He was but a man, bleeding in front of me, and my heart was breaking for him.

The impossible, relentless pull of the bond burned through me like wildfire-raw, unforgiving. His pain caused my veins as if it belonged to me, and I could hardly breathe off the ache, sharp and suffocating as it ripped through my chest. I groaned, stumbling forward, my vision blurred through tears that I couldn't hold in.

I dove down beside him, saying into his fur, "No, no, no." My paws came down against his side as if the mere pressure of them could hold in the bleeding. "You can't die. You can't."

His gold eyes fluttered open, cloudy and out of focus. For one instant, they latched onto mine, and my breath caught. A faint smile brushed his lips, even as his body shook.

“Mate… “ he whispered, the word low and barely audible, his head lolled to one side, his eyes slipping closed.

"No!" I screamed, sounded raw and torn from the very depths of my soul.

I shifted without thinking, fur giving away to the skin as I crouched beside him in my human form, my shaking hands touching his face, now human, too, pale and bloodied. "Don't you dare die on me!" My voice cracks with desperation.

I lifted him and pressed his limp body against me. His warmth, weak and yet still there, became my only anchor. Racing my heart in my ears, I fought my way to my feet, his weight as a heavy dead load in my arms.

"Someone! Help!" I shrieked, my voice tearing through the unearthly silence left on the battlefield. My hands clenched around him as if I could hold him fast in this world by will alone.

The wolves around me went stock-still, eyes wide in their heads. A susurrus of whispers swept the crowd, their incredulity palpable. Their Alpha, me, was clutching the enemy general like he was her lifeline, tears streaming down her face.

"What are you doing?" a low voice whispered, but I paid the comment no heed.

"Betta Roy!" I bellowed, my head skirting the gathering in thick expectation of finding my second in command. Hoarse-raw-throaty-my words seemed to carry sufficient weight and jerked the wolves out of the sudden stupor. "Roy, now!"

I watched him rise from the crowd, dark fur smeared with blood, his eyes wide with disorientation. He shifted mid-stride and his human form appeared as he jogged toward me. "Ignis, what—"

“No questions!" I snapped, my hand cutting across the air sharply. My hands were shaking and I readjusted my hold on the man in my arms. "Help me. Now!"

Roy's eyes flicked to Lykon; his jaw clenched as realization hit him. He faltered for a fraction of a second, then nodded, whatever suspicion he harbored forgotten against his loyalty to me. "This way.”

Now we ran, the battlefield a blur around us, as I hurried Lykon towards our camp. My head was a turmoil, tumbled about with emotions, confusion, and desperation, but between us, at least, that bond was aflame, high as a beacon, to light my footsteps through. I felt his every labored breath, his every faint heartbeat.

I only made it to the healer's tent, dropping on my bent knee just inside of the flap and gasping to have air. "Fix him," I begged, barely above a whisper.

Roy knelt beside me, his hands already moving to assess Lykon's injuries. Orders were barked at the other healers in an acid-sharp voice. "We need clean water and bandages! Now!"

The healers were running around, their orders sending them into a quick stir as I hovered outside of the tent, my hands balled up into fists. My gaze was fixed on the Healers as they moved rapidly, in a blur of color. My hands and arms were coated in blood; the metallic tang was overwhelming.

Roy looked at me from where he worked, furrowing his brow. "Ignis, you need to calm down. You're not helping anyone this way."

I shook my head, my chest heaving. "I cannot, I am not to lose him."

Something in my voice finally caught his attention. For a moment, his gaze gentled before he nodded and returned to his work. "We will do everything we can.”

The next two hours blurred in and out of passing. My feet moved up and down the length of the tent as my heart pounded out with each minute's tick-tock. I tried shutting the sounds, the murmur of the healers, the faint gasps of pain from Lykon-but they filled my ears and were constant reminders that his life was fragile.

Finally, Roy emerged from the inner part of the tent, his shoulders slouched in exhaustion. His face was ashen, his hands smeared with blood. I went to him in haste, my heart in my throat.

"Is he—"

"He's stable," Roy managed to say, cutting me off. Relief washed over me in such a strong wave that my knees almost buckled. "But he's not out of the woods yet. He needs rest, time to heal."

I nodded, my throat tight. "Thanks."

Roy studied me for a moment, his gaze sharp. "Ignis, what the hell happened out there?"

I hesitated. I knew I owed him the truth, but the words felt too heavy to say. Finally, I took a deep breath and met his gaze. "You have to believe me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded without hesitation. "I always believe you."

They were lifelines, anchoring me as I told him all: the bond, the impossible pull, how Lykon had saved me despite being my enemy. Roy listened in silence to every word I said, his face darkening with each word.

After I finished, he slowly let out a breath, running his hand through his hair. "This is bad, Ignis. Bad."

I frowned, my heart sinking. "What do you mean?"

He nodded toward the tent where Lykon lay. "His pack hasn't come for him. Not a single wolf. Don't you think that's strange?"

The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. I had been so wrapped in fear and concern that I had not noticed. The battlefield had gone silent, the enemy forces retreated without a fight.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Roy looked nervous, looking at the tent. "I think they left him behind. And if that's so, it's gonna be a problem for the both of you."

I started to say something when, from outside, a sudden uproar near the tent distracted me: angry voices yelled in the distance, their tones getting louder with every passing second.

Roy's eyes narrowed as he faced toward the door. "Stay here," he said in a low tone.

But by then, the situation had moved on from a place I could speak. My body was reacting to instinctive needs now, and by the time I burst outside into the night, I was speechless.

Standing at the very outskirts of the campsite, stood a phalanx of wolves, eyes bright as if fanned hot in some ember-lined fire pit. There at their lead, an enormous black wolf gestured at me with an opened claw.

“It's her!" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "The shameless leader of the Flame Pack!"

The accusation hung in the air like a stroke of thunder, and the camp fell as silent as death.