The True Luna's Kiss

Chapter 2

And the worst part if it all was. She remembered.

She remembered every single one of them. She remembered the young boy who stared up at her with wide eyed curiosity as she healed his broken arm. She remembered the pneumonia she pulled from the elderly woman, the one who gave her hand a slight squeeze with pity in her eyes. She remembered every single one of the training “accidents”, where the warriors high-fived each other and found the most inappropriate place to touch her. She remembered every single injury or illness, from every pack member that ever used her. She remembered their faces, their scents, their voices. She remembered the pain and the agony. She remembered feeling like she wanted to die, wishing she could die. But every time, her body healed her. Every time, she would survive. Every time she woke up, staring around her, wishing for once she could see what heaven looked like. Because this was surely hell.

Over time, her words began to fail her. She used her voice less and less, almost forgetting how. Syllables and sounds became foreign, and now she could only converse in short bursts. Her conversations with her wolf, however were significantly more educated than the grunted, monosyllabic speeches she could muster. Her attitude, her experience, even her entire personality became forever internal as she shut herself down from the outside world.

After all, the outside world had forgotten her. Why should she even try? What had they ever done for her, except to harm, to torture and to punish? So Sirona stopped. She stopped speaking, stopped pleading. She saved her words and feelings for Briar, her only friend, her family. The other half of her soul, who had saved her from solitude and insanity. The only one in the entire cruel world who wanted nothing from her. Who would always be there, even if for three weeks out of each month, Briar was forced into darkness by the poison. It had taken many years for Sirona to be accustomed to the dosage, to allow Briar to fight through. After one incident in which her wolf had pushed through and snapped at one of the guards, where they had increased the strength of the injection, Sirona kept Briar back. It had taken six months after that incident for her to hear Briar's voice again. And she didn't want to lose what little time she had with her, so she stopped fighting.

"Someone is coming," Briar warned her, scenting someone outside the cell door. Sirona listened, hearing the scrape of boots on the stone floor. She dropped her head down, making sure she avoided any eye contact. It wasn't worth whoever it was catching a glimpse of obsidian in her eyes and reporting it to the Alpha. The door creaked open and the same footsteps walked in. The guard clearly wasn't paying any attention to Sirona, he was talking on his phone. She chanced a quick glance up at him. He was carrying a metal tray with her meal on it and dropped it onto her table, before walking back toward her. He fumbled with his keys in one hand, trying to find the right one to unlock her cuffs, but unwilling to put the phone down.

"That's what I heard," He said, finally giving in and holding the phone between his shoulder and ear. "Every Alpha and Beta in the area, all coming here."

Sirona kept her head down, but her ears were definitely open. The pack didn't have visitors that often, so a collection of such a size was definitely for a reason.

"I think the Alpha wants a powerful alliance," the guard continued, finally selecting the right key and turning it in the cuffs. They opened with a click. Sirona let her arms fall to her lap. She resisted the urge to move, even to rub her wrists where the metal had chafed. The guards were always nervous of any movement from her and she had ended up with plenty of black eyes and split lips that it soon became not worth it. She just stayed still and silent until they left.

"That's the rumour anyway," the guard continued, making his way back to the door. He hadn't even looked at Sirona once. "Alice is eighteen now. You know he won't let his only daughter go to any Omega, only a powerful Alpha will do."

Sirona rolled her eyes. The mate bond didn't take requests. Sirona didn't have a mate, she hadn't been around enough pack members to find hers. When she turned eighteen, she looked at the door with hopeful eyes, in case her mate walked in. But she very soon learned to give up dreaming of her white knight bursting through the door. Without her wolf, she had no hope of finding her mate, and even when Briar returned, there was no scent of her mate anywhere near by. So she stopped dreaming, and learned to face the reality of her situation. "Coping, not living." was the mantra she used in the darkest moments. "Just coping."

Hearing the door shut and the key click in the lock, Sirona raised her head. She was alone in the dark once more. Her hands flew to her side, pressing against the already closing wound there. Her healing powers were extraordinary. Not only could she pull any injury or illness from another with a simple touch, she could also heal herself in record time. Superficial wounds, such as this one were easy. More difficult and complicated illnesses could leave her bedridden for weeks. Thankfully, there were never many of these, but there were plenty of fighting wounds from training or other minor injuries to keep her energy sapped.

Sirona pulled herself to her feet, and took slow steps towards the table. A quick glance at the metal tray made her curl her lip up in disgust. The food was never appetising but this looked even worse. Cold stew, with very little meat was carelessly spooned into one side. A small breadroll lay next to it, which looked like it was better used as a weapon or paperweight than as a food source. And a small plastic cup of water. The whole ensemble made Sirona's stomach turn, but she knew there would be nothing else till tomorrow, if she was lucky, so she had no choice but to eat. So she sat down wearily on the chair, and began to eat.

It didn't take long to clear the tray, the contents hardly touching the hole in her stomach, so Sirona just curled up on her metal-framed bed. It was only then, in the lonesome, silent hours, that she finally let the tears fall. She poured her pain and heart out into her threadbare pillow, listening to Briar's soft voice of comfort in her head. She knew she would die here, in this room. Alone.