Desired Fate

Loving Illusion

•Caleb•

He stood there, clothed in sweatpants that were just a tad too big, gazing thoughtfully at the trio of glass bottles resting on the table before him. Seizing a tumbler, he poured himself a generous portion of whiskey before turning his attention to the crackling flames of the hearth in his quarters. Positioned before the hearth were three luxurious black leather couches, draped in sumptuous sheepskins of a deep, rich brown hue.

Perched on the left most bench, a girl sat clad in one of his white shirts. Her hair, a cascade of silver-white, was partially pinned up with clips, while the rest of her tresses cascaded in wild, untamed curls framing her face. She rested one leg atop the small glass coffee table that stood between the benches, while the other dangled beside her. Her large green eyes exuded a seductive gaze, but he couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of dread coursing through him.

“Is it wise to drink?” The girl's voice sent his heart racing. He took a deep swig of whiskey, feeling the fiery liquid scorch his throat.

“Wise?” he repeated grumpily. “Do you believe that a bottle of Single Malt is enough to knock out the big, bad Alpha?”

The girl chuckled. “The Single Malt is twenty-five years old, Caleb. Don't underestimate it,” she joked, making the corner of his mouth quiver. Even in his imagination, her humour was entertaining. Yet it felt bittersweet; for was the humour hers, or was it his own voice, cloaked in her sweet tone?

“Even if it were fifty,” he addressed the girl. “Nothing kills me.”

The girl shrugged, causing the blouse to slide off her shoulder, revealing more of her skin. “And you should know,” she said. “You've tried everything.”

Caleb strode purposefully towards the girl and settled himself onto the couch opposite her. He took measured sips from his glass, but his gaze never wavered from her form.

“You cut your wrists,” the girl said. “You jumped off big buildings. You drowned yourself to the point that you couldn't breathe. But nothing was final.”

“I don't deserve to live,” he answered her. “I hurt you.”

“And yet here I am,” she continued in a sweet voice. “Doesn’t that say something?”

The words churned in his gut, stabbing at his heart. “You're not really here,” he corrected the girl, prompting a smile to grace her lips.

“So you haven't lost reality yet,” she replied. “At least that's something.”

A brief hush fell over them as he lost himself in her sparkling gaze. She appeared so lifelike, so stunning. The flickering light of the flames washed over her visage and complexion, painting her angular features in a warm, orange-yellow hue that cast shadows across her face. She drummed her long fingernails against the back of the black leather couch and wiggled her toes, propping one foot up against his coffee table.

But he didn't feel her. He didn't smell her scent. She was there… but it didn't make him feel any less alone.

“You know you're going to have to quit someday, don't you, Caleb?”

He didn't answer, but steadily took another sip from his overfilled whiskey glass.

“It is not healthy to abuse the Lazuli mushrooms in this way.”

His gaze slid over the delicate little body of the woman who had once been his; her bright green eyes looked at him defiantly, but all he kept imagining was the moment eight years ago when the gleam faded from her gaze as her body grew limp and lifeless in his arms.

“I'm cursed,” he finally muttered to Rue. “If my body finds healing even after I bleed it to the last drop, it will heal itself after swallowing a few mushrooms.”

Rue laughed softly and the sound of her voice cut through his heart like a knife. Rising from the couch, she made her way towards him and perched herself atop his lap. Taking his arm in her grasp, he yielded to her movements, although he couldn't feel her touch. He'd learned over time that illusions worked best when one cooperated, and so he complied meekly.

She ran her fingers over his forearms until they landed on his wrists. Light scratches of thick, white scars marked his skin. Jet-black ink from countless tattoos traced his hundreds of scars in a attempt to hide them; but if you knew where they were, you could see them.

“Even with your perfect healing powers and apparent immortality,” she spoke with a hint of cynicism in her voice, “the deep wounds are revealing themselves. They never fully heal. Doesn't that indicate that you need to be more cautious with yourself?”

Caleb's unwavering gaze remained fixed on her countenance. With his free hand, he tenderly caressed her cheek, observing her narrow her eyes and rub her face against his palm, but he couldn't feel her warmth. Her scent was absent... A frigid sense of isolation consumed him.

“I'll see you when I die,” he said gloomily. “Then I can hold you again. Then I can see your smile and know it's really you… And not an illusion my own mind has created.”

She bit her lip seductively and shrugged softly. “I know I'm not real,” she said. “My words are your thoughts. My face moulds to your memory. You will have to let go of me someday.”

“I don't need to do anything,” he growled.

“You'll be happy again, Caleb,” she continued.

“I don't deserve to be happy,” he interrupted. “I deserve to die. I should have died… Not you.”

She chuckled. “At least you've forgiven me for giving my life for Heath,” she said playfully; something that lit a flame in his chest. Pushing her off his lap, he chugged his glass and went over to the table to refill his glass.

“Don't talk about Alpha Ray,” he said.

The day he lost Rue was the first time he felt a bond with the Alpha. As he held the love of his life in his arms, the Alpha knelt beside them, tears streaming down his face as he called out to the Moon Goddess. The sound of his mournful wailing pierced through the air, a cry of agony that emanated from the depths of his soul.

The anguish of losing someone dear was too overwhelming to hold onto anger. The two boys exchanged a glance and silently agreed to end the quarrel. They understood that the pain they shared was too profound. Caleb also realized he didn't want to subject his sister to the same suffering; if the Alpha was her Fated Mate, she didn't deserve to experience the same heartache that shattered his own heart into pieces.

“Even if you didn't want to stop these illusions,” Rue continued. “Then you know as well as I do that the cave of Lazuli mushrooms is almost empty. Only Camila knows where to find more and you haven't spoken in eight years.”

Another growl escaped from his throat. “Can you shut up?” he said in a raised voice. “You don't have to challenge me.”

“I'm not challenging you,” she shrugged. “You challenge yourself. They are your thoughts… I am just expressing them for you.”

“I'd rather die than draw her into my grief,” said the boy fiercely. “She and the Alpha are happy. I don't need to ruin her life any more than I already have.”

“Is that really why you're avoiding her?” Rue continued. She gave him a grin that made his blood boil.

“Of course,” he hissed, but he knew it was a lie.

“You and I are one mind… one soul, Caleb. You avoid her because you are afraid of hurting her.”

The young king gripped his half-full glass and felt his grip tighten. “Stop,” he hissed.

“You're afraid your magic will hurt her too.”

“Stop it,” he growled again, glancing at her in warning.

“Because you know as well as I do… That if you let her back into your life… You will cost her her life.” She looked at him with fierce eyes.

In a fit of rage, he smashed his whiskey glass into the fireplace. The alcohol sputtered in the flames as the sound of breaking glass filled the air.

“Go away,” he yelled at her delusion. “Leave me alone. Get lost!”

The girl chuckled. “As you wish,” she said, then disappeared.

He immediately regretted it.

“Rue,” he called. “Rue, come back.”

The room remained empty.

The loneliness increased as he sank to his knees. “Rue,” he cried, heartbroken. “Rue, come back…” Tears streamed down his cheeks and he dropped his face into his hands. Grief overpowered his body with shaking shoulders.

“Rue…” he cried. “Rue...”