Smoldered Flames: Part I of the Edonia Series
Chapter 52

Daxter

After we received the silver talisman, we met up with Chancellor Barati and the others to finalize the plans. It was a simple plan, really. Once my group replaces the source of the barrier’s power, the Executive’s armies will raze the lands and rescue the Princess. Sounds easy, right? Except, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

The enemy’s next location to target was easy to guess. Balendros was rarely a go to for hybrids, because humans were supreme. Unless you count human-dwarfs as such. Like the fae and the elves, they shared a common ancestor. The only difference -besides height- was that dwarves are more in tune with the Earth than humans.

We rushed to a small town of Balendros and allowed ourselves to be captured. From then on, we were shipped in an offshore ship with other prisoners. Surprisingly, they didn’t drug us. They kept us chained in an unidentifiable metal. It saps away at my energy, leaving me sluggish and weak. Many people don’t know or realize that the Mastersons have a long-term agreement with Afra. We protect her people until the Conqueror of Man takes the mantle.

Whatever that means.

I was born with the gift of healing. The downside of the gift is that I can feel that person’s pain as if it were my own. It helps to locate the source of the problem, but it’s more of a curse than a blessing.

The constant swaying motion of the ship brings a queasy sensation to my stomach. Being so far away from Ouranos leaves a gaping wound in my chest. It’s like going into battle without your armor, facing an enemy without your sword, or even hunting down prey without a bow. I’m not prepared for this journey, but I must if I want to have Valeri back in my arms. To hold her close and let her know that she is perfect in my eyes. No matter what she’s done in the past, she will always be worthy of worship.

Shaking away those melancholic thoughts, I observe the others around me. We decided to avoid grouping together, lest we be discovered. Instead, we spread out and gain as much information as we can. Thus far, I’ve gathered nothing to help our cause. We’re held below the deck where the sun’s rays don’t reach. I stand in the middle where most prisoners congregate.

My three questions are: Why are they collecting so many werewolves? To what purpose would they serve? And why on Earth are they collecting Hybrids like a rare commodity?

Eros is just out of my peripheral with an air of amiability. If anyone knew him as much as I did, you’d notice the small tight lines around his eyes to know he’s stressed, the slight ticking of his jaw indicating how livid he is, and the shade of red in his orbs shows how close he is to throttling the werewolf next to him for simply touching shoulders with the ship’s erratic motions. But to others, with the help of the talisman, it hides those beautiful ruby orbs and his true nature. Kamau is up ahead with a Bloodvenom warrior a few feet away. Beta Jacques, along with an enforcer of his pack, takes up the rear.

The ship is about three hundred feet long and about half as wide. It could fit just a little over three thousand prisoners, and a thousand more to squeeze. There’s this persistent itch that crawls underneath my skin. It started about a day ago and increases the closer we get to our destination. Is this the mate bond? Is it supposed to feel this way? I feel anxious to flee from this ship. The feeling grows as time moves slowly.

Finally the boat slows to a standstill. Yelling happens in the distance. Clamoring sounds not too far away and then the midsized rusted metal latched door opens above. Harsh light pours over us in an abundance, and I wince as my pupils constrict and adjust to the forgotten light.

A slim shadow partially blocks the light. “Looks like this batch ’o fleabags ain’t too worse for wear,” someone says from above.

Another figure appears and slaps the back of the head of the first. “Don’t just gawk at ’em, idiot! Get the pole!” The strong male voice shouts another command, “and you! Get the drought ready. These mutts will for sure put up a good fight.”

I hear a few people grumble while they scramble to do what was commanded of them. Soon, a metal loop comes down from above and snags a nearby werewolf. The werewolf growls, pulling his bound hands to fight against the loop. The tool bit into the male’s skin, making it sizzle underneath. He yowls in pain, all the while struggling to get it from around his neck. It is no use, as soon as the loop tightens around the werewolf’s neck, a small zap shoots from the pole to him, nearly knocking him unconscious.

I scramble backwards like the others to steer clear of the travesty, but it’s unavoidable. One by one they lasso us like cattle to the slaughter. Those that grapple with the weapon are given the same electrifying treatment. Once everyone exits the deck below, we are herded towards our new part of our journey, and the view isn’t looking so great.

In a blink of an eye, the kaleidoscopic world comes tumbling down to just this bleak, desolate land. The sands of the beach was a stark contrast to what lay before me. Pale twin rocky crags reach the gray sky like jagged knives. They surround the island like a gigantic border. In between the sharp beaks is a metal railing that leads down to more land decorated with sparse trees. When everyone goes down the rather unsteady ladder, the land reveals a ginormous and evenly bricked building in the distance. We are at the backside of the building, but I can tell it’s shaped like an “L”.

In front of the cold and decrepit structure is a sea of werewolves. They run through, what appears to be, practice drills. They wear worn clothing, chains that glisten in the abandoned sun, but it’s their eyes that chill my bones. Werewolves are renowned for the bright ring around their irises. But as we get closer to the mass of wolves, I notice a black ring around each iris. A pair of red orbs burn the side of my head. Turning, I see Eros raise an eyebrow. He noticed that as well, hasn’t he?

The first batch of wolves pause their movements, like tinkered toys whose wind up stopped. The air is still, no one speaking a word. Until someone coughs from behind my group.

A brute of a man knocks people out of his way with a shit eating grin.“Took you long enough, Bruce!” he cackles wildly. His eyes lack the dark rings…

“Blame the worthless cur, Mack.” Bruce chuckles.

Mack grins like a mad man. “Follow me, men.”

We do, indeed, follow. Dread pulls at my stomach. We round the right side of the building and bypass a few ramshackle barns. A commotion comes from it, but we traveled far enough to not know what’s going on. Ahead, there is an ancient coliseum crudely reinforced with steel. We go through thick metal doors. Bones, both recent and old, make up the walls of the coliseum, and an assortment of weapons lay haphazardly on the blood-soaked ground.

Mack turns to us. “‘Survival of the fittest’, Darwin the explorer once said. The Culling will determine who is worthy of the darkness and who is weak against it.” he smirks. “Welcome to Camp Reform!” Mack shouts, raising his arms to the sky in victory. He then turns to a black-ringed werewolf. “Alert the Master. This will be a spectacle.”