Chapter 24: Mate At First Sight

Pain.
“It is all I know now,” Alma thinks in her mind. Sighing softly, she welcomes the agony of fresh bruises and open wounds from the whip. They hit the air, and she grits her teeth in order to stop the groan of pain rumbling through her chest. She closes her eyes, blocking out the entire city. She focuses on the way the breeze caresses her cheek and brushes her thin hair. She inhales the warm scent of the thick stew that the Drein rebels, her captors, are making. Her stomach rumbles, and ache in the center of her body.
“Alma,” the voice, belonging to an older man, another slave like her, reaches in through her reverie. “Tell me more of your homeland. Of Pyrion.”
Reluctantly, she opens her eyes once more, her shoulders sagging. “There is not much else to say. It is useless.” She forces a small smile onto her lips. “We are stuck like this forever.” She tugs on the rusting shackles locked around her wrists and ankles. Her flesh is beginning to peel and blister around the restraints. “It is all hopeless.”
“Those rebels are preoccupied for now. We finally have time to rest. There is no hauling chests or bags for a few days, while they rest their horses. We need a distraction.”
Alma sighs, her muscles still tightening from the soreness of her body. “Why do you wish to know of my home?”
The slave shrugs, his chains clanking. “It is a new place. I have never been there.”
Her brow dips down for a moment, “Did you not live near the beach? Across the water from Pyrion?”
He nods, “That is correct, but I never had a boat strong enough to travers the distance. I have heard stories that it is a paradise though.”
Alma smiles, her fond memories filling her mind. “It truly is. There is no patch of land that has been desecrated for building towns and cities. We live along with nature, trying not to disturb it.”
“Was it freeing, to be able to f—”
“Hey, stop talking.” One of the rebels, a younger man, maybe even more so than Alma, storms up to them, his face trembling with rage. “Did you not learn anything from earlier?”
She holds her breath as the man tightens his grip on a thickly bound whip. Heart in her throat, she whimpers.
“Have I not gone through enough,” she questions in her mind. As he raises the weapon, she cowers, closing her eyes tightly, bracing for the impact.
It never came, though.

>><<

As the man raises his hand holding the thick whip, Evyn is gone. Eliana is unable to keep up with his movements as he maneuvers through the crowd, dodging the bustling civilians as he makes his way to the Drein rebel.
Eliana bites her lip as Jasper barks, “Evyn!”
He finishes on a growl, his eyes blazing.
“Come, let’s help him, stick close to me,” he grumbles taking off after his friend.
Eliana hesitates for only a moment before matching Jasper’s pace. The wind burns her throat as she sucks in air, her body screaming from the exertion.
Evyn reaches the man, gripping his wrist before he can release one crack of the whip. The rebel’s dense gaze whips to the Xefol, a sneer contorting his young features.
“Who do you think you are,” he snarls, tugging his arm, trying to release himself.
Evyn’s gaze is hooded, a gravel tint to his voice, “Leave her be.”
His hand begins to shift, his growing claws digging into the man’s hand. He shrieks with agony, now yanking his arm, trying to free his limb.
Jasper rushes to Evyn’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Think of what you are doing.”
He freezes, taking in the sight of the rebel, and then looking down at the female slave who stares back up at him.
Eliana tights her grip on the hem of her shirt as she glances around at the villagers. They all halt their movement, watching the scene unfold. Sensing eyes on her, a shiver courses up her spine, biting at her skull.
She moves to the slave’s side, crouching next to her. There are bruises lining her arms and neck, open wounds, slices in her flesh, visible under her flimsy shirt.
“Are you alright,” Eliana questions softly.
The girl barely gives her acknowledgement as she stares up at Evyn. Her mouth slowly moves but Eliana cannot catch what she is saying.
“Evyn, let’s go,” Jasper orders, tightening his grip on his friend.
“Not without her,” he counters, nodding toward the slave.
Eliana looks up as the rebel makes eye contact with her. His expression becomes quizzical, his brow furrowing. Fear explodes in her chest, causing anguish to push up and into her throat.
“We need to hurry,” she states, helping the slave to her feet.
“I will not leave the others,” the female counters glancing down at the older man.
He smiles gently, “Go, Alma. Go and never look back. We will be alright.”
Jasper releases Evyn’s shoulder as the rebel begins yelling. “Help! Help, Pivurlion scum are attacking me!”
Rolling his eyes, Jasper crouches down, grabbing a hold of Alma’s chains around her legs. He grunts, yanking on them. The metal groans with the pressure, before snapping. Jasper stands once more, doing the same with the restraints around her wrists. Pieces of material crumble to the ground.
The thick bands still sit on her wrists and ankles, but Alma sighs, her shoulders relaxing, “Thank you.”
“Let’s go,” Eliana urges as a horde of Drein rebels push their way through the crowd of citizens.
Evyn sneers before pushing the boy away and rushing to Alma’s side. He gently touches her shoulder, urging her to follow him. She complies, her eyes never leaving his face.
That is when Eliana realizes what she had been saying earlier. A world-altering word that connects two Pivurlion souls.
Mate.