Chapter 4: Sena - Fated to the Night King

Danil clapped his hands and the other children laughed as I waved my hands, imitating an owl's wings as it flew past the moon, escaping the giant roc that pursued it. The shadows on the wall fluttered like feathers and I flicked my fingertips one final time to their happy cheers.

"I think you made their night," said Bethann, the assigned foster mother for this group. The responsibility rotated amongst the elders. It meant they felt productive while their bodies were spared the demanding work we were often assigned.

"Has he spoken at all?" I asked her quietly, not wanting the children to overhear.

Her smile dimmed. "Not yet. He interacts with us. I'm hopeful it'll return to him. But who knows what damage the sickness left behind. It could be tomorrow. It could be never. Only the Goddess knows."

The common phrase grated against my skin. Too often, we left things to the Goddess. Trusting in an idea that we'd be saved by benevolence we couldn't see. I already knew the cost of my salvation. Paid it every day.

"There are some above that want to help the Stricken, you know." Bethann glanced over her shoulder, although there was no one close enough to hear but the children.

"I'll trust that like I'd trust a badger caught in a trap." Her eyes flicked to mine, censure and worry filling her gaze in equal measure. "Everything we're given has a cost, Bethann. Don't forget that."

I left her there, standing alone to fret over my words. My presence beside her wasn't necessary. Someone else, though, might benefit in some way.

Danil was swaddled up in blankets once more; his back tucked into a corner of the bed he shared with one of the other children in Bethann's quarters. He didn't look up when I stepped close, but I saw a telltale flinch as I settled on the edge of the mattress. It was thin, the metal of the cot digging into the soft skin on the back of my legs. Better than sleeping on the floor, even if better was only a slight difference.

"I brought you something." I pulled the book from my bag, holding it out to him. Almost a minute passed before his small, shaking hand reached toward mine, fingers closing cautiously over the surface of the cover. I smiled, careful to keep my teeth concealed. He needed reassurance and smiling like a wolf wouldn't give him that. "There are beautiful pictures inside. When we saw it, both Glory and I immediately thought it was a perfect gift for you. You can look at it anytime. And Bethann will read to you, if you like. Or one of the older children will. You just ask them, and they will do it."

I let the silence stretch, hoping he would offer me a word, even show that he was trying to say something, but there was nothing.

"All right, Danil. I'm happy to see you doing so well. If you need anything, come find me or Glory. Any time." His eyes finally lifted to meet mine, my only encouragement that he didn't instantly look away.

I waved goodbye and accepted a final hug from Bethann, followed by a chorus of farewells from the remaining children, before returning to the corridor. Weariness pressed down on me. My throat ached every time I swallowed, no doubt the lingering effects of exposure to hours of smoking pyres. I hoped Glory was already resting. No doubt she'd be on a duty list in the morning. No doubt I would be, too.

Navigating through the warren of halls that made up the Undercroft could be confusing, so I forced myself to pay attention and choose my turns carefully. I longed for my bed, for the blessed oblivion of sleep, the ache in my chest growing with every step. It wasn't the responsibility I carried or the weight of all the Stricken I knew relied on me. Trusted me. Believed in me. It wasn't any of that.

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It was the futility of it all.

Because while I wanted to think that there was a reason for this, an end to the life that each of us were bound to, I couldn't see it clearly.  Couldn't imagine the possibilities that Glory had whispered to me would ever truly be reality.

I pushed my door open, stepped inside and stopped.

"What are you doing here?" My words vibrated, as close to a growl as my body could manage.

Calla spun, her hands up as she backed away from me, long black hair swinging with her movement. "I'm sorry. I wasn't doing anything, I swear."

"Empty your pockets. Now." She did as she was told and I looked through the small scraps of glittering metal she'd scrounged. Nothing of mine. "Fine. You didn't steal anything. This time. Now get out."

The young woman blanched, her eyes darting to my door. "I can't."

We didn't get along, Calla and I. She always seemed to be lingering in corners and alcoves, listening where she shouldn't be. It wouldn't have surprised me that she was trying to curry favor with those that lived above, or even among the Alpha's Guard. Favor, though, could easily turn on you. I'd warned her off once. She'd scoffed at me.

The lessons were hers to learn after that.

I'd learned early and often that it was near impossible to save someone from themselves.

Calla was one of those.

"You can and you will. I'm too tired for your games tonight." I held the door open for her and waited for her to leave my home. "Now. Go."

Wringing her hands so tight, the white of her knuckles stood out in the dim light. "I can't, Sena. I'm sorry. It's Hugh."

The name shot a jolt a fear through me, and I forced myself to be unmoving, unfeeling, as she watched me. When I said nothing, she added the worst of the message she'd been sent to deliver.

"He's Called for you."