𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

xx. bled in runes.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Everything surrounding Morrow is a bitter arctic gust, only there's no wind, just the damp melancholy of the crypt. Light is a scarcity in Scaerus, the only source of it the flickering flames from half-melted wax wicks. Elowen can almost smell the blood dripping down Morrow's naked flesh as he kneels before the mother witch. Still, she holds that warped dagger.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow's palm takes a hold of his thigh, the new rune mark bleeding down his calf. He raises his meadow-hues, one bruised from a blow from Ronyn, only to find them hollowing due to the spells of darkness circling around him. Elowen senses the distress of his wolf, the hatred of Morrow due to his sins. Nothing can cleanse the reaper of death from his past.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The mother witch taps her long black nail against his chin, forcing the alpha to look upward. "You look a little more like your father everytime we summon you," she murmurs to him. "It's a shame you have to pay his debts, but it's not like yours don't exist either."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow bares his sharp wolfish canines. "Do what you have to. Just get it fucking done."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oh, Morrow," she coos, now cradling his cheeks. "It's not that simple, hmm? You're asking for us to replenish your store of lives. Even I never expected you to kill eight of them this fast."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Eight? Elowen swore Ronyn said it had only been seven of nine.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow lowers his gaze to her feet, a gesture of submission. The sight nauseates Elowen, and an anguished growl reverberates from Morrow's wolf.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His voice sounds as cold as the air. "Tell me the price."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The mother witch laughs, a cackling howl that splices Elowen's eardrums into two. Although her face is hidden beneath shrouds of black linen, a faint shadow of her sinister smirk etches through the darkness.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It's an offer you'll find rather enticing. Your grandfather and father were on their knees for me, begging for something that their wives couldn't provide." She presses her lips near Morrow's ear. "Heirs."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow spits at her feet, keeping his jaw locked shut.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"That's how your father and mother created you."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His wings snap, a whirl of shadowed feathers. "They shouldn't have brought me into this world with your fucking interference."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"But it's my interference that allowed you to be breathed into existence. I know how important is for the an alpha and luna to have offspring. When the alpha is blessed with a child, the rate of pregnancy increases within the pack, allowing Tabrien to be blessed with young pups." She kisses his cheek. "Why haven't you provided your pack with your spawn?"