Cold. The moment my body touched the water, it rushed over me like a blanket of ice. Slowly, I began to sink, the cold biting into my skin. But after a few moments, the cold faded, replaced by a dull numbness that spread through my body. Is this how it ends? I thought, my mind slipping into a quiet acceptance. This must be it—my final moment.
Then I heard it. Faint at first, but growing louder—a chorus of agonized screams rising from the depths. Shadows flickered beneath me, and suddenly, I felt something brush against my leg. Cold, shadowy hands gripped my skin, pulling me deeper into the darkness. The screams became clearer, the sound unmistakable. These weren't the cries of the dying. No, these voices belonged to the tortured, those who had suffered in ways too horrible to imagine.
Mom, Dad. The only people I could think of in these final moments. How I wished my soul could reunite with them in the Celestial Heaven. But I knew that wasn't my fate. My soul is tainted—a fragment of corruption. I never asked for this. I didn't even know I was born with it. But because of that fragment, so many lives were lost. Innocent people were murdered without justice. This must be why these souls are dragging me deeper. I am the reason for their suffering.
Suddenly, a voice shouted in my mind.
"Orla." It wasn't my voice. It was a voice I recognized.
"Dmitry," I whispered in my thoughts. I could sense him running, his paws pounding the earth, moving faster than ever. Our minds were linked—maybe because of the bond—the bond the Gods forced upon us.
"Orla," he called again, his voice more urgent. He could hear me.
"It's dark", I responded, feeling the weight of everything I hadn't said to him. I wanted to say so much, but fear gripped me. I was terrified he would be angry with me.
"I won't forgive you if you die," he growled, his breath ragged from running as if he was racing against time. "I'll search for you through heaven and hell." His voice echoed in my mind, clearer than ever before. The usual bitterness and anger were gone, replaced by something else—pain.
He must be in pain because of the bond. If I severed it, he would be free—free from the suffering it causes him. Yet, as I sink deeper into the cold, dark water, I feel a sense of helplessness. The weight of the abyss pulls me down, but his voice pulls me in the other direction.
"Wait for me. Don't even think about dying," he says again. The usual hardness in his voice is gone, replaced by something fragile, something trembling. I can almost hear his heartbeat racing, and feel the strain in his breath.
But it's more than his voice. I can feel him—his desperation, his worry. It's like his emotions are pouring into me, flooding my mind and body. The bond between us goes deeper than I thought, our souls intertwined in a way I can't escape. His pain is my pain, his heartbeat echoes in my chest.
"I can't feel my body," I think to myself.
I hear him stop abruptly, the crunch of leaves under his paws. He must have heard me. "Don't let go. Don't let them in," he says, almost pleading. "Don't you dare fall," he adds, his voice full of anger.
I can feel him running again, faster than ever. But I know he won't make it in time. Cold hands pull me down, so many hands, all icy and unfeeling. My eyes slowly close, the light from above fading away. It's truly too late, but a part of me feels relief. I'm glad I was able to save the others, those I love.
My arms reach for the sliver of light filtering through the water, but black, shadowy hands coil around my limbs. With the last of my strength, I draw ancient witch runes in the air—symbols of souls and hearts. A golden thread appears in my fingers. This thread represents our bond, a connection forged by the Gods. Even though it was forced upon us, I'm grateful. I'm glad I met him, and that the Gods gave me memories with him—memories I can hold onto, even in my final moments.
But this bond must be broken. If I die, so will he. "Stop," I hear his voice in my head again. He must sense that I'm severing our connection. "I can still save you," he pleads as he runs. "I'm almost there," he says in i panic. I can feel his fear coursing through me, mixing with my own.
"It would set you free," I reply softly. "Our bond was only a force of the Gods," I add, my voice growing faint.
"It will never set me free," he says urgently. "Please, give me a chance." His voice trembles with regret. "I'm sorry for everything—the way I rejected you, the anger I showed. It was all just my fear. I was scared of what you might see in me, scared of what I felt for you. Everything I did was because I was terrified of being vulnerable."
I smile softly as the memory of our first meeting drifts into my mind. It was a simple day, under the vast blue skies at the bustling market. People hurried by, lost in their daily routines. Everything about that moment seemed so ordinary—until our eyes met across the street. My green eyes locked with his deep, onyx ones, and for the first time, I felt it. A strange, invisible force pulled me toward him like a thread tying us together.
There was something undeniable, something powerful about the connection we shared in that instant. The noise of the market faded away, and all I could focus on was him. It wasn't just attraction—it was as if the universe itself had shifted, drawing us into each other's orbit.
"You didn't do anything wrong," I say gently. "Everything was just an act of the Gods. Once I break this bond, you will be free from these emotions."
"No, don't say that," he pleads, his voice trembling with rejection and desperation. I can hear it so clearly like his heart is breaking with each word. "Please, wait. Don't fall any further. I'm almost there, and I'm begging you—hold on". His voice cracks, thick with emotion. I want to make things right, to undo all the mistakes. Just give me a little more time."
I can feel everything he's feeling—his fear, his desperation, and the aching longing behind each word. His emotions flood into me, raw and unfiltered, making it impossible to ignore how deeply he wants to save me, how much he's willing to give just for the chance to fix what's been broken.
My eyes close as I draw the final rune to sever our bond. Suddenly, a sharp pain grips my body, making it shake uncontrollably. The golden thread on my finger quivers violently. In my head, I hear his howl of agony. It's not just in my mind—I hear his howl echoing through the water and reverberating in the cave. The sound of cracking rocks fills the space as some fall into the water. I scream as water splashes into my mouth, my body convulsing with each wave of pain.
The light of the thread flickers and dims. Another howl pierces the darkness. The cold, shadowy hands pulling me deeper tighten their grip. Below me, a black void swallows the water, where these hands seem to emerge from. This feels like the end.
Then, I hear it again—"Orla." He calls my name. His voice reaches me through the darkness. My eyes flutter open just a bit, and I see him as the silver wolf, swimming toward me. The thread's light is still flickering weakly. His emotions should be fading by now, but despite everything, he's still trying to save me. I can't understand why he's holding on, why he's still fighting for me.
He hates me—he hates every part of my being. My bloodline is responsible for the death of his kin, so why does he still care? Our bond should have been severed by now. Yet here he is, struggling to swim deeper, pushing against the crushing pressure of the water.
I know he won't make it in time. But there's something so painfully beautiful in his determination to save me.
At least he's trying.
At least I know someone fought for me, someone who, despite everything, refuses to let me go.
As I sink deeper into the darkness, I can still see him, the silver wolf, fighting against the current. His presence is a bittersweet comfort, a final reminder of all the hatred and pain. I'm grateful that I'll see those onyx eyes until the end—eyes that are like a vast, night sky.
My night sky.
My Silver Werewolf.