16: Triggers – Part 4

The call went straight to Jordan’s voicemail, but as soon as the deputy heard the message, he quickly slipped into his cruiser and flipped on the lights. Stiles and Derek would hear the sirens in no time then see the flashing blue and red as he speedily pulled into view.

Both he and Noah had kits in their respective vehicles, so it didn’t take much digging for the hellhound to exit with a box of First Aid in tow. Only once his eyes fell onto the pair – and saw just how terrible Derek looked –wasn’t he so sure their box of supplies could cut it. It was like walking into war again, like seeing an old comrade laid out and gutshot.

“…Christ… What the hell happened?” Parrish skidded to his knees near them, doing his best not to panic as his eyes took everything in. One of his hands hovered over the pistol in his holster, because he wasn't sure if the brown wolf was still in the area because he was so focused on making it in time. Derek sounded horrible over the phone, sluggish and tired. The same sound a man makes before slipping away altogether.

"He's not here anymore..." Stiles said hoarsely and at the brink of crying from the exhaustion and Derek's condition. He knew, he could feel, that his mate's healing already kicked in, but the pain he felt through the bonds were nearly crippling, making him nauseous and dizzy. He could also tell that Derek didn't want any magic near him, so aside from the petting on his cheek which left it bloody, as if it was some kind of tribal paint on half of his face, he didn't dare to touch his bleeding alpha.

"Please, help him, Jordan. I... I will get him some healing balms and drinks upstairs. Just... stitch him up, please," he stuttered. Not sure what to do. He wanted to give some space for Derek and Jordan and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to bear watching the deputy patch up the claw marks without puking. So in the end he fought against the fatigue in his legs and stood up.

"Will you be able to carry him upstairs?" he asked Jordan, not sure he would be a big help in that in his current state. But he had to do something. He couldn't just sit there and watch his mate bleed all over the place. So when he got a nod from the deputy, he started moving towards the building, swallowing bile back.

Whether it was triggered by the power that still lingered in the air of this lot or the devotion felt so deeply by Parrish to serve and protect those who resided in this town, something shifted beneath the deputy’s worried flesh. He warmed up to Stiles’ request as if a fever had suddenly come down through his bones. Mossy hues caught on fire as the hound took a quiet lead, embers burned around human pupils – and the creature possessing Parrish offered a nod to the retreating Spark. Supernatural strength flowed through carefully cultivated muscles, and the hound carefully slipped his arms around the wounded alpha.

“We’ve got you,” came a monotonous tone. “Just hang on.”

There was a brief struggle as the human inside slipped away to allow the hound more control, but it came in good time. The change was more subtle than usual, with less heat, as if the creature was doing its best to remain as dainty as it could beneath the flesh of its vessel. No cloth to burn, no skin to crack with hellfire. Derek was in dire need of his power, but also in need of the balance of Jordan's human gentleness. The hound lifted up Derek as carefully as he could, giving the wolf the space he needed to hold his guts in place.

Dutiful, determined strides grew quicker as the hound gained momentum, following the Spark’s scent and the warmth left behind by his tracks through the building. He could do this, he thought, he just has to hold on, bear against gravity and make haste.

It ached for Derek to see his mate struggle with himself and then walk off. Stiles shouldn't be alone when he had given so much of himself but there wasn't much time to think about that or say it out loud because Parrish and the hound were both there at once to lift him up and the Hale didn't have much thought beyond the pain flaring up. The broken leg was halfway set but the claw marks were still open and raw, there was only so much his healing could focus on.

Spots danced before his eyes but he wasn't going to faint, even though that would have been more kind on Stiles who was stuck with feeling his pain as well. Derek’s hands were the only things keeping everything in place and he wasn't going to force Stiles to put it all back in, the human might puke on him. That would complicate things considerably.

"Alpha claws... take longer to heal," the alpha explained as to why he wasn't healing the moment he had stuffed his guts back in. Right now his body was busy making sure he wasn't bleeding out by replenishing the blood which was leaking out all over.

"If you can stitch it up, after you check the organs for nicks and set my leg, I'll be okay. It doesn't hurt as much anymore." Probably not a good thing, shock was setting in.

Stiles waited for them by the elevator, sensing the shift in the air behind. He guessed it was the hound in Parrish that wanted to be useful for the alpha mates too. At least he could. Stiles was barely holding himself up, one hand pressed against his stomach as he folded in on himself a little. He knew it was the phantom pain of his mate's injury, just like the slightly less stabbing pain in his leg. And yeah, this was the downside of having two such strong bonds with Derek.

But Stiles didn't care about himself. Neither the pain, nor the warm blood that trickled from a nostril. He quickly wiped that away with the back of his hand once the other two caught up with him and he pushed the button so the elevator could ascend with them to the loft.

The relatively short ride (thanks to the more modern, replaced elevator) was spent mostly in silence – aside from their ragged breathing.

"Take him to the kitchen table. There's more light there," Stiles instructed. And it was going to be easier to clean afterwards. He led the way because there were a few things he had to clean off its top then he shuffled to the bathroom. He blessed his foreseeing and careful nature, wanting to be a few steps ahead of everyone and to be prepared because he insisted that they keep a quite big stash of healing balms, elixirs, bandages and a big first aid kit with antiseptics in a locked cabinet in the bathroom. He wanted to mutter a 'told you so' under his nose, but in the end he deemed it too tiring to do so. Not having to climb all the way up to the greenhouse was something he was also grateful for.

Gathering quite a few things they might need and adding said first aid kit to the pile, he took all of that to the kitchen counter and washed his hands before starting to check the little glass bottles with the elixirs. He popped one open and quickly drank it against the pain and exhaustion that was settling into his bones heavily, thanks to the overuse of magic.

Once the hound had carefully laid Derek across the cleared table, he began to check over his body with keen eyes. He was trying to sift through the blood that was leaking from the open gashes, to make sure it was just the body trying to replenish itself and not more damage than what was already obvious to the three of them.

“You should have gathered your pack around you,” the hound said without emotion as if reading out of a textbook. It was a fact. “You were not strong enough.”

Even with the Spark at his side, Derek would need more it seems. The alpha who battled them was stronger than anyone could have foreseen. Save for perhaps their old banshee.

Regardless of the hound’s uttered observation, his hands continued to work. Careful in the way they assisted Derek’s grappling palms in putting things back into place. The beast never flinched, nor showed any signs of empathy for the wolf. He was working as if he was nothing more than a machine made for such tasks. Even if this was out of his element. He just knew what had to be done, therefore he was doing it.

The hound's ears perked to Stiles' though, as his actions went from fitting the puzzles back into place to grabbing a needle to stitch flesh together. He was making sure there won't be more for him to mend, but though the Spark was weakened – to the point of nearly falling apart – he seemed strong enough to keep standing.

When an ancient hellhound tells you that you've been stupid, you listen and that was exactly what Derek did, nodding to the words. There were many ‘I told you sos’ in the making, rightfully so. Noah and Parrish had warned him not to do this alone and yet he had let his anger get the best of him. "I know. I was stupid not to listen." There's a slur to his words, because having hands methodically search the torn-open wounds wasn't pleasant, making pain shoot up all the way to his spine.

"He knew about you, Cerberus. Knew about all of us." Hands pushed at his stomach with slick sounds, sorting it all back in there though luckily, once it was healed, it would take care of problems if there were any left. Except having objects inside, that was more of a problem, but not an issue for them right now. The gleam of a needle alerted him to what was about to happen and he tensed on instinct. In all probability, he might not be awake through all of it but that didn't make the current situation any easier. It stabbed, burned and pulled, it didn't need to be pretty as long as it would close the wound.

Hazy hazel eyes searched out the very quiet human, who looked pale and ready to collapse where he stood. "You should sit down. You used up too much of your magic," the wolf panted, worried for his mate. "I can... can try to block the pain for you a little." The promise was no blocking, but that didn't mean he couldn't ask to lessen the strain on Stiles. He fought against the pull of unconsciousness. Not right now! Right now he wanted to make sure Stiles was more or less okay enough.

"No, I can take it...." Stiles mumbled looking not just pale but a little green too thanks to the needle and the sewing, and the additional dull stabbing pains the stitches caused for him too. "The potion I just drank is starting to work with the same purpose," he protested but listened enough to reason to find himself a chair and kinda collapse onto it. He wasn't sure if Derek tried to close the bonds to spare him the pain would do any good for his fragile state. Hence why he drank the potion. And he did start to feel a tiny bit better as he closed his burning eyes, holding a hand against his stomach still, but only winced a few times in silence. "I'll be fine. You focus on healing. I have some potions and salves which our friends here can apply and give to you."

Stiles was a bit worried what touching his mate would do to Derek. Both because of the fire and the fear that his magic would stir too much, maybe try to balance itself out. But right now he didn't want to take more from his mate. He had felt how much he pulled from him during the fight. They were both depleted – Stiles more than the wolf – and Derek too injured to risk something like a balancing right now.

"Someone talked," Stiles echoed Derek's previous thought. "Do you think it was Tyr? The alpha made it clear they knew each other," the Spark forced his lightly shimmering eyes open to exchange a long and serious look with his mate. Tyr wasn't there right now. He tended to sometimes wander off when he wasn't helping around or babysitting Beth. Now she was probably already at pre-school thanks to Noah. So they didn't have to worry about their daughter being in the wrong company. They only had to worry about the fact that she was kinda defenseless right now. And if the alpha planned something with that, this would be a good time to move in while they were weak and vulnerable.

"Maybe... I should call dad...?" he asked, unsure what to do.

When Derek mentioned how the alpha knew about all of them, there was a small pang of guilt inside of the hound’s chest. It was faint and distant, it didn’t belong to the spirit, but the man who was listening in the depths. A failed mention, a brief encounter that he wasn’t sure meant anything at the time, but now that this has happened, Jordan wished he would’ve spoken up when Derek told him and the sheriff that the alpha didn’t know about the deputy’s true nature. The hellhound’s eyes faltered, but he didn’t give away anything in the sense of emotion – he simply continued to work as the mates talked.

“Don’t stifle the pain,” the hound instructed only that as he sewed. He had been close to let his claws grow and sinking them into the wolf’s flesh, because the pain had fluctuated so low. They needed the pain to keep the alpha healing. “Let it come. We’re almost done.”

He was background noise, a recording while the other two were thinking. Calling the sheriff might be good, getting the older man to watch the child for the day, keep her under a safe eye. Then again, it could just give the alpha what he wanted, a reaction – a chain of events that could showcase just how much he's affected the pack. The hellhound kept these things to himself, though, he wasn't sure if it was his place just yet. In all his long life he'd never chosen a pack before now. Jordan has been the most peculiar vessel he's taken.

Stiles sent a grateful glimpse at the hound since it seemed they were on the same page about Derek needing the pain. Besides, on the counter the druid already lined up the potions and balms for Derek to use. Those would help the healing too once the sewing was finished.

Both the Spark and hound told him to focus on the pain and healing, and if Derek wasn't so busy fighting the pull of passing out, he might have offered a wry grin at the two of them working together like that. It was good, they knew Parrish well but the hound rarely showed himself, even though Derek accepted both souls housing the one body. He focused on the pain, letting it overwhelm in pulses as the skin was pulled together. In a few days nothing would even show for it, not a scar, nothing, only unblemished skin. It made it easier to forget what the body had been through already. Derek was good at that, focusing on surviving.

"Tyr doesn't know about Kate and the darach, doesn't know what words to use to trigger me." The beta had slept with the strange alpha, so he was going to have to make some choices, and clearly they couldn't trust him since he hadn't told them. "You should call Noah, strength in numbers. We have to figure out the leak."

They also had to figure out how to go against the threat and shouldn't be alone for now. "Something's off about what he did... I'm not..." He was getting heal-stupid as he called it so it was getting harder to think for Derek. It wasn't that he was completely out of it yet but he wasn't all there anymore either. It was good, to have the healing work on the damage inside. Last time he had been ripped open like this by an alpha, it had taken him days to heal and only because Jennifer had used a spell on him.

"You should... call your dad." He forgot he had already said that.

"True. Those are too specific details," Stiles agreed and was fishing for his phone, ignoring the trembling and acing in his fingers. He felt like a wrung-out dry lemon. He was lucky that his skin hasn’t cracked yet – not that he thought it would, but it kinda felt like that could happen any moment. He needed water and later food, but just thinking of both his stomach churned. Instead of puking all over himself, he focused on remembering how to unlock his phone.

Damn, was the fact that Derek was slipping into that 'heal-stupid' state affecting him too now? But then again, Derek hasn't been physically hurt this much ever since they bonded so it was a possibility...

The Sheriff picked up on the fifth ring.

"Hey dad... We have a situation here. The alpha challenged Derek and me and we are pretty beaten up. No... no, we are going to be fine. Jordan is here to help us out... We're all fine. The alpha got injured too a bit, but just to be on the safe side of things... could you go get Beth from pre-school and keep her with you today? Preferably at your place which is warded... though now I'm not even sure that'd keep this alpha out... Fuck... I don't know... I just..." Stiles' voice faltered and he had to press his eyes closed for a moment. "Just... take her somewhere safe, please. She shouldn't see us like this. Derek will heal in a few days, I think. Just... keep her safe, please," he sniffed, wiping away a couple of tears of frustration while listening to his dad's reassuring words on the other end. He needed to hear them, even if he started to feel that he had failed the whole pack. "Yeah, talk to you later and... thanks, dad," he whispered.

On the other end, Noah would be grappling with the choice of clocking out for the day and running off to get his grandchild or rushing over to make sure his son wasn’t worse than he was trying to let on. It is difficult to be both a parent and liability when it comes to your child being in danger, but Noah knew, with Jordan there, they’re better off than being completely vulnerable and alone. He reassured his son that he’d take care of his end of the situation, but he wanted updates – he wanted them safe.

Once the line disconnected, suddenly Stiles felt much more tired and older.

"He'll pick her up and keep an eye on things. Maybe... once we are more or less okay, you could go be with them. As extra protection. We cannot let them get harmed. Especially not Beth," Stiles looked at the hellhound, but was talking to both him and Jordan.

When the phone clicked, the hellhound finished up his task of stitching Derek back together. The knots were neat and tight, though the flesh still looked gnarly and puckered. He moved on to rip the remainder of Derek’s shirt from him so he could inspect the wolf’s bare torso. There didn’t seem to be much damage outside of what he’d already fixed and a few battle bruises that were already beginning to yellow as the wolf was fighting to heal.

The leg was setting on its own, so with that the hellhound stepped back from Derek so he could give the two space to move, tend to each other and speak. Jordan was pacing inside of him, but the hound was not yet ready to be released. His fiery eyes watched, his keen ears listened.

"None should be alone," Derek protested to Stiles because if Jordan left, which didn't seem likely as of yet because the hound was still there, they were going to be vulnerable. He got the idea of Beth not seeing them like this, he didn't want that either and yeah, a hellhound had more of a chance against a magical alpha than a sheriff but... The two of them were injured. They won against Zepar barely because they had been at their strongest, which they weren't now.

With some difficulty, Derek leaned on his elbows to look at the work down, seeing nothing but a closed wound and a lot of old blood. Derek had never been stitched up this neatly before, it actually looked decent for the fact his guts have been hanging out minutes ago. The brief inspection took all of his energy but of course he was still too stubborn to give into it. Because they were just attacked, they needed to talk battle plans, they have to do more than this, and yet this is all they could do at the moment. "There are energy drinks... in the fridge... Stiles. We should... have somebody here." Argent maybe? But there was blood everywhere, Stiles was close to collapsing on bed, there was no way this was a smart idea.

"I'll text Chris. I just... I want Beth and dad as safe as they can be," the Spark said to Derek but glimpsed at Jordan/hellhound. "How do we call you?" he asked, obviously the hellhound who was looking back at him. Stiles was in a too tired state that allowed him to see the fiery being in Jordan as clear as when he concentrated on looking 'beyond things'. Like when someone's mind gets too taken over by instincts in an overtired state and see things from the corner of their eye. Now Stiles didn't have to do that, he could look at Jordan and see him what he was inside too.

“You don’t,” the hellhound flatly stated about his name.

"Alright... Could you please make Derek drink the first three bottles’ contents from the left and smear the fourth on his wounds?" he asked the hound then looked down at his phone's screen, starting to see double, but he managed to type out a message to Chris about the emergency and needing a babysitter for them – because yes, they both needed to rest, sleep, heal and recharge as much as possible.

As soon as Stiles instructed him, the hound set into motion to fulfill the purpose presented to him. All the while, Jordan whispered inside. Telling the hound that the boys didn’t need to ask for outside help, that they could be the ones to watch over them while they healed. It wouldn’t be so difficult if they worked together, they wouldn’t have to bring anyone else into this mess – and the hound is resilient enough to fight off most magic. They could lay down a mountain ash barrier, protect their alphas.

No matter how Jordan tried, however, the hound brushed him off. The beast was still a neutral entity in all of this; he was still on the fence about what was happening here. He would do what he must do, but as far as Jordan’s attachments went, the hound was still uncertain. What was the purpose of the brown wolf’s attack? Why did he come here, truly? There has to be more to his arrival, more to his challenge than simply just wishing to take Derek’s mate and territory.

The hound couldn’t help but feel that there was a reason beyond what both of their tired minds could conjure up right now. Jordan insisted that this was even more of a reason to put themselves on the front-line for the alpha. More than enough reason to protect them, to offer them their strength in this time of vulnerability.

“….I think the alpha won’t strike again so soon…. Your display might’ve been enough to keep him away for a time. Instead of worrying so much about the next step, you should both rest. You’re in no condition for anything else… Rushing will only prolong the healing…” the hound spoke methodically as he began to smear the balm over Derek’s wounds.

Jordan was frustrated beneath the surface, but since they’ve yet to learn one another – since the hound has yet to form a real bond with his vessel – the hound simply suppressed him more. More… until the deputy was quieted… stilled… inside of him. The emotional creature he inhabited seemed tedious to the hound. He didn’t like how the human made him doubt things – made him think of things he never would’ve entertained before possessing him. He was under the impression that he was here to assist in the now, but nothing else.

His work was quick but feather-light. Once the balm was set into place, the hound worked to join the first three bottles together. He then rewarded Derek with the concoction. His palm rested firmly at the back of the wolf’s head. “Drink,” he said as his other hand pressed the tip against gasping lips.

There was no reward happening with the drink, it was bad tasting on its own but now it was all together and it was like being forced to swallow crushed frogs and snail slime. Derek had little choice in the matter because the hound had experience with force feeding, keeping his head up enough and simply poured it in his mouth before the Hale had anything to say about it. It slid right in, no chance to protest, it kept coming and he swallowed on instinct. It was efficient, like putting the salve on his wounds, detached and cool. The hound didn't need to do this, he wasn't required to stay and yet Jordan wasn't the one in charge.

Derek’s body wasn't too happy with the liquid, it was sinking down like he had swallowed a rock because it was all still healing inside. This was going to help so his body had no choice but to figure out how to work with it. Inhaling deeply a few times to keep it down, the werewolf could feel Stiles was fading fast, but his mate was avoiding him, didn't even listen to him about the energy drinks. The hound though, he was listening closely, even realizing that the alpha was entirely focused on the battle ahead and not the healing. Either Derek was easy to read or there was some mind-reading happening here.

"Yeah, we'll rest and heal and reconvene as pack in a few days to talk strategies." Not like they were up for anything else at this point. Argent was going to keep an eye out and the others would be safe too. "Stiles, get to bed, you need to rest. I'm okay." It seemed that was the only thing that was keeping Stiles from passing out right where he was.

Derek tested his ability to sit up again, arm clutched at his stomach. So far so good. "See, I'm okay, get some rest, please."

"Yeah... the alpha has to heal too. Probably the protective spells on him will have to be renewed too, because I felt them wearing down from my continuous attack," Stiles said as he eyed his mate with worry while Derek sat up. But seeing that he could do that on his own made him exhale some of his own tension, the dizzy exhaustion tugging harder on him now that the adrenaline was fully out of his system.

"After we rested somewhat, we should question Tyr. Maybe he knows more about the alpha. At least a name or something since he never introduced himself to us. Rude..." he grunted just when his phone chimed with a message to check. "Chris is on his way," he informed the others and finally collected enough strength to get up from the chair. His legs protested and he felt like an 80 years old man, but refused to faint on the spot or topple over. At least the pain in his stomach was receding the more Derek was healing.

"Thank you and Jordan for the help," Stiles mumbled to the hound and slowly left the kitchen. From there on he had to lean on some objects to be able to finish his short journey to the bedroom, but he gritted his teeth together and eventually made it. He felt both hot and cold as he kicked his sneakers off then finally gave in and fainted between the pillows. His mate was going to be okay!

Watching Stiles shuffle to the bedroom like an old man, without that much protest, was telling how bad he was feeling. Derek carefully kept himself composed until he heard the human fall down into bed, muscles straining from his attempt to look fine. The moment he knew Stiles had given into the exhaustion, he sagged and fell back onto the table. So maybe he had eased some of the pain trickling from him to Stiles, sometimes it was needed.

The table was soaked in blood, he himself looked like he had bathed in it and Jordan's uniform was in need of replacement. What a mess. Derek wasn't planning on bed, there was no way he could stand right now, let alone walk, so the table was fine. Not the first time he was healing on a table and this one was more comfortable than the usual metal one.

"No judging, the safety and wellbeing of the pack are more important than the alpha," he told the hound in case he didn't approve of the charade. Sometimes it was needed to do what was best.

Before the wolf could really start, the hound held up his hand. "There's no judgment here."

Derek needn't seek his approval or his opinion, really. Outside of Jordan's attachments... the hound was just happy to have something to accomplish. That thing being near finished, his eyes left the alpha and lingered after the direction Stiles went in. The hound could not feel the same pull that the two felt between them, but he could sense it in the air – the shift, the relief.

"Do you need me to carry you to your mate?"

It was a perfectly normal question to be asked since Derek was spread out on the kitchen table but there was no easy answer. On the one hand, being next to Stiles might unconsciously be better for the Spark, but on the other, Derek was covered in blood and might trigger some bad memories if Stiles woke up next to Carrie after prom. For the wolf himself it didn't matter, he didn't need soft surfaces to sleep well and he wouldn't know where he was either way when in a deep healing sleep.

It might be weird for Argent to come across him when on the table but honestly, right now he didn't want any more jostling. "No, thank you, better for the leg to finish some more healing." With half-lidded eyes, he patted the hound on the shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint but it already looked like a slaughterhouse uniform anyways.

Argent knew about werewolves well, he'd know when to wake Derek to move him to a more normal resting place. Chris got the short end of the stick often it seemed and yet he was still willing to come help.

"Thank you, for everything." He would have bled out for sure otherwise with Stiles passing out in exhaustion halfway into helping. Derek felt bad to pass out but he had held out for a long time and there was no way he could stave off the pull any longer.

The pat and the thanks felt like dismissal enough for the hound to answer with a silent nod. He put the bottles neatly where Stiles had first set them, made sure to rid the area of Derek’s tattered clothes, but outside of that, he figured the area would be cleaned in due time. The hound had to suppress the instinct to hide the evidence, so much so that he didn’t speak even a single syllable as he made his way for the exit. Walking as if pulled by a magnet to be elsewhere.

He had taken care of the alphas, now it was time to take care of his vessel. Who quaked silently inside.

***

The alpha cracked his neck and rubbed at one of his blackened forearms. It was like ashes from a fire yet not completely like that either. It was going to stick to his skin for a couple of days no matter how hard he'd try to rub it off, because it was caused by magic. But it was fine. It wasn't the first time he experienced something like this, but it was still more extensive than in previous cases.

"Will they be okay?" he asked standing on a nearby rooftop, watching the still conscious Spark stumble back into the building while the one called Jordan helped carry the bleeding other alpha inside.

"What do you think?" the dark-skinned woman asked as she stepped next to the wolf, a dark-green hood nearly fully hiding her face.

For a while Zepar didn't say anything then glimpsed at her just when the figures below were swallowed up by the building. "Eventually. Our efforts and... given the Hale's history with fire, the manifestation of the phoenix might drive a wedge between them. At least for a while..."

"This will be the real test then. See if they succumb to their insecurities and if it destabilizes the Spark," she said on a calm voice, her eyes never leaving the windows on the top floor. "He is strong. Too strong already. You'll have to keep an eye on them a little while longer. We can't take risks."

"And if they fail? If the Spark destabilizes?" Zepar asked, his eyes narrowing as he noticed a few of her men stationed across the rooftops.

"If that happens... you know we'll have to stop him. He'll be too big of a threat to himself and this town."

Zepar's brows furrowed, but he eventually nodded. He turned only when the woman did move next to him, facing him.

"Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. We have to keep the balance."

"I know and we will," he bowed his head, his damp and slightly bloody long hair falling into his face.

"Good," she reached up to briefly place a hand on the uninjured side of the bearded face then took the blackened forearms into her hands. "Now let me renew your protection spells. He was near to breaking through them. It's a first," she mused more to herself as her hands began glowing in that silvery hue, lighting up the tattoos on Zepar's forearms. It only took a few moments and whispered spells before she finished and let him go.

"Thank you, Leader. I won't disappoint you," he murmured, bowing his head again before looking back at the Hale building.

Things were in motion. It's only a question of time now which turn things will take.

RELIGHT MY FIRE

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