The death of his child was a prophecy that he foretold. He saw it in the crumble of flower frost and the withered stems of dandelions in their meadow.
Two had known that Euodia would change the moment she stopped coming to their abandoned hut in the West gardens of the palace—the place where they'd met, the beginnings of their love story. But he had waited for days, hoping for her arrival with lilacs clutched between tight fists, and bees kissing stung cheeks.
The gardens had been his oasis once. A gorgeous nirvana of flowers that bled pastel otherworldly blues and was heavy with a cloud of romanticism that could not leave each blade of dew sleeked grass. Then the meadow, rolling hills of sweet grass that had once held all the laughter and joy in his world.
But the sun that day had been particularly unforgiving—an orange yolk that revealed the heated truth, and the air was hot and muggy. Through the drip of sweat soaked curls he'd seen his first vision of her. His first and only vision in his life.
The God.
He couldn't call her a Goddess, no, not with the connotations to the word for she was anything but.
She stood before a waterfall, looked as if she'd been at the edge of the world, dark hair that curled to stretch attention towards the pitch-black ink of sweet lash-lined eyes. She was wrapped in leather belts to keep the billowing cloth tight against her breast, trousers thick with pockets and bulging with tools.
There was a smirk on her lips, her body so muscular with strength that when she flexed sinews rippled. She was pink with health and golden from the sun, lips so red they looked like blood. And covering her face was the dance of brilliant, blue light a panel that hissed and buzzed and hid.
But even that couldn't hide her eyes, not from him, never from him.
His neck had throbbed, the jerk of his scent gland, there was the ghost of teeth dug within flesh and his cock had swelled for the first time in his young life. His tongue was thirsty for something far more delicious than simply just cold, clean, crisp water. It wanted a sweetness he did not understand, a forbidden fruit that lurked in the beyond.
He had been filled with a strange surge of dread.
"Heard that you were looking for this guy," was the voice that spewed from her lips. It was softer than what he anticipated, sweet and mellow like fresh apple juice squeezed from the source. It was the wind at the creek, soft, cold, and refreshing.
He ran when the vision ended, escaped into the barracks with tears in his eyes. He didn't want her, no, he wanted Euodia. The little girl that was his best friend, the little girl that loved him. The princess that gave him everything he needed to survive when the rest of the world wanted him dead.
Solar was a naïve little orphan, loyal to anyone that stretched out their hands and fed him with the scraps from their plate. He'd been nothing more than a dog when he fell to Euodia's feet, his back laced with scars from the training.
Solar was the strongest soldier against the Lonely simply because he could predict their every move.
And Solar was deadly.
He felt danger deep within his gut and relished in its presence. Psychic knowledge didn't come to him in visions and dreams like the other seers did. It came burning through his bones like energy that dragged him through each step. It was a force that willed him to live, to stretch his wings and slit the throat of his enemies.
He read each beast like the back of his hand, danced into the battlefield with two swords, not a gun. He slayed them without mercy and returned to the kingdom with wagons full of bodies. And yet he didn't trust the voice when it spoke of Euodia.
'Euodia is yours,' was what the voice had said, cryptic and ambiguous, 'but she is wrong.'
He'd ignored it, been blind to the truth until her teeth sank into his veins and her seed grew in his belly. He knew the child was dying the moment it began to form. His love for her had vanished with its death, dripped from between his thighs and onto the snow.
It would never have survived in the winter. For that had been the beginning of the rebels when the temperatures had dipped so far it was almost impossible to breathe. When they'd huddled against the stove, so cold that they couldn't feel their limbs, just as the Alphas partied in the castle and took all the heat.
It would never survive with Euodia as its mother.
He knew that.
Solar knew that the six others were his soulmates the moment he'd met them. Their bond, a bitten mark upon the neck just over his scent, had led to silver on his skin. It had given him what she had stolen.
But the bond had been gaping, empty and missing a final important piece, and Solar had ignored that because he thought he knew better. He forgot about the woman in the garden. He had better things to think about, a family to care for, a kingdom to revive.
That was until the day he met Quinn.
*
Solar
The empty room had been a nightmare.
Panting through lungs so overtaxed they hurt, he'd reached with outstretched hands towards his soulmate. The rasping breaths that had escaped his throat had been all that left him as he watched his soulmate turn to look at the open window. Bloodshot eyes had danced to his, eyes that were murky with red that coloured gold, for a beat Solar had begged that Helios would be too weak to fly.
But he did.
Helios had been close to death. Days were all that he had in this world.
Solar had tasted it in the darkness of his soul, the fleeting blinks of his magic fluttering against his fingertips. He'd felt it all when he took what little sips from his mate, mouthfuls to feel for Helios's emotions and thus his life. His magic had been fading the moment he'd wanted blood, flesh and bone.
Solar saw it quickly, the prophecy spinning through him in flashes of gold. Helios's body, steaming with heat and dying in the rain, his wings spread and hissing with electricity. The crimson of a Lonely in his eyes. He would die outside; he would transform and turn into the zombies that ate human flesh.
No fairy should want blood like a vampire, it was beyond their needs. But Helios did, and with each swallow he grew weaker, weight melting off him with each shaking breath. His eyes were sunken, dewy beads on a sallow face lined with purple coal. His caramel reeked of sickness, a sweetness that reminded Solar of paracetamol and medicine.
Helios hissed and snarled, snapped his jaws and drooled on bad days. He couldn't see his mates, couldn't understand the pull that they had or the bond that should exist. On good days he was quiet, and he warbled with insanity. He did not purr like a happy, content Omega should, vibrate with the sounds that he once spewed the moment Solar stroked his head. And God, Solar felt that he could die from seeing him cave.
Tears were now always in their eyes.
The pack was never the same the moment Helios grew sick. They snapped at one another, cursed and swore. Beds only grew colder and lonelier, and their bonds tore and frayed at the seams. Heats were spent in painful emotional sex that was always so damn depressing and goddamn numbing. Knots that grew thick in his ass no longer brought him the same toe-curling joy. He'd curled into himself, gossamer wings wrapped around him and pretended that everything was alright.
They would mend and he knew that. When Helios was gone, they'd get better with time. The thought always had him crumpling to the ground, knees week with the terror of loss. His muscles always tensed as he gasped for air that did not come.
When Helios started craving blood, Solar became in charge of Helios's food.
He was the one to mix the blood and the flesh of Alphas fresh from the prison cells. He'd tried to cook it at first, made meat patties under the guidance of his oldest mate, but then realised quite quickly that the fey enjoyed everything raw.
The first plate of well-seasoned human flesh was flung against the walls of the cell, wasted meat that grew cold against the tiles. He plated a new slice, fresh from an arm and his mate tore into the raw bits with gusto, smear blood all over his face. It was he moments when he ate when Solar saw Helios again in the gold of his eyes.
The flash of himself that was no longer glassy and dazed with crimson.
The first time he tore a sliver of his own flesh, an inconspicuous spot that could be masked as the remains of a fight, was the first time Helios had seemed better. He'd sat up in the bed, had whispered that the world was quieter. Then turned his eyes towards Solar and spoke of better times.
It was him that Helios needed and so Solar provided, carved bits of himself into the food that he mashed for his Lonely. But God help him because how could Helios grow lonely with six mates that loved him to the moon and back?
"Commander," the Omega soldier saluted, and Solar jolted from his turmoil turned eyes towards a man with red curls just like his Heli's. "Your orders?" His lips twisted; fingers tightened over the sword. The metal sang under his touch, heavy armour tight against his skin. He cursed, eyes darkening, within the blade cold memories lingered.
"My husband will be brought back to us dead or alive," he spoke to the table, felt the heat of his five other soulmates guarding his back. The press of a hand against his waist, the spread of a werewolf's power. The jerk of a vampire's allure whispering reassurance in his ear. But Solar could not afford to look weak. "Fey," he called his team, tightened fists over the grip, "you will follow me out of the gates and into the wastelands. We will search in the last unculled town of women."
There were murmurs from his words, quiet shock followed. Not many knew of the village of Alphas. It was a blind spot that stood for everything they detest but was allowed to thrive because of the items they brought back. The scum of society would always be exploited.
And Alphas did not deserve the safety and protection of the walls.
"What should we do if he's Lonely?" a voice had chimed in, and the annoyance had spiked in his throat. The anger filling him so thick and fast it'd choked him, nails biting into his palm. Silence was the perfect resort when control could not be obtained. But for now, they needed an answer.
"Kill him," he stated, felt the coil of acceptance fill his veins. The resignment had dawned upon his soul. But inside he wept. 'Helios,' his soul whispered with arms filled with the memories of his lover, his beautiful, beautiful mate. 'I will bring you home.' "Kill him and bring him to me."
Solar had closed his eyes, had been robotic as the meeting continued, unable to speak. In his mind, his future began to play. His arms, wrapped around Helios's rotting body with tears in his eyes. He would sob so hard he'd retch and dry heave. His Heli, his baby, his darling, his lover, his soulmate.
He might die without him.