Lycidas' POV
The morning light seeped through the narrow windows of the chamber, its pale fingers clawing at the stone walls, casting a dim glow that felt more like a shroud than a blessing. I stood there, cloaked in shadow, my breath a quiet snarl in my chest, the beast within pacing its cage. Finn was before me, his back turned, gazing out as if the world beyond held some answer I'd never given him. He didn't hear me approach - my footsteps were a predator's whisper, honed from years of stalking prey through moonlit forests and blood-soaked battles.
As I closed the distance, he turned his head, and I caught the flicker in his eyes - relief, perhaps, or a fool's hope. His lips parted, the ghost of a smile tugging at them, but before it could fully bloom, I struck. My claws, sharp as moonlight on steel, tore through his chest with a wet, ripping sound. Blood bloomed like dark flowers across his shirt, vivid and cruel against the white fabric, spreading as if eager to claim him.
His gasp was soft, a broken thing, and yet that smile - damn him - didn't fade. It clung to his face, stubborn and maddening, as he looked down at the ruin I'd made of him, then back up to meet my gaze. My expression was stone, resolute as the cliffs that guarded our cursed lands, my eyes cold as the frost that gnawed at them in winter. Inside, though, a storm howled—rage and something softer, something I refused to name.
"Your Highness," he whispered, his voice a trembling thread, "you have indeed come."
I stared at him, unyielding, as his hand lifted, shaking like a leaf caught in a gale. His fingers brushed my face, warm against the ice of my skin, and I hated how that touch burned, how it clawed at the walls I'd built. "Since the first day I saw you," he murmured, "I have been thinking… If I could love you so much, and be killed by you, I don't know how happy it would be…"
The words sank into me like fangs, piercing deeper than I'd ever let anything reach. Love? That wretched, fragile thing he dared to speak of? It was a blade he wielded, even now, as his life leaked out between my claws. I remembered him then - the first time I'd seen him, a slave dragged from the market's filth, his eyes blazing with defiance beneath the scars. He'd been a spark, a flame that refused to gutter out, and I'd been drawn to it, helpless as a moth to a torch.
He pressed on, his voice fading to a rasp, "Because I know you will be the one who comes to save me, the one who helps me escape from this endless torment and pain… Please tell me, Your Highness, have you ever really… loved me…?"
The question hung there, heavy as the chains he'd once worn, and I felt my eyes sting, a traitor's red creeping into them despite my will. Did I love him? Had I ever? There were nights when his presence had been a hunger I couldn't sate, a need that gnawed at my bones - but love? That was a word for mortals, not for a Lycan Prince carved from cruelty and command. Yet his gaze demanded an answer, and I turned my head, breaking the hold of those dying eyes.
"Never," I whispered, the lie a bitter shard on my tongue.
With a sharp yank, I withdrew my claws, and he choked, blood spilling from his mouth in a crimson flood. He crumpled, collapsing into a pool of his own making, a broken doll discarded by a careless hand. I stood over him, watching the light dim in those eyes that had once challenged me, mocked me, adored me.
Kairo, his slave, scrambled forward, hands and knees scraping the stone as he reached Finn's side. His fingers clawed at the wound, desperate to hold back the tide of blood, but it was a fool's errand. "Master, stay with me…" he sobbed, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his face, falling onto Finn's cheeks like rain on parched earth.
Finn's hand twitched, rising one last time to touch Kairo's face. "I never thought that when I died, you were the only one who shed tears for me…" His voice was a ghost, fading. "You're… free now, Kairo."
His hand fell, limp and final, and he was gone. Kairo's cry tore through the chamber, a raw, animal sound that raked at my ears. I clenched my fists, the blood on them still warm, sticking to my skin like an accusation. I wanted to snarl, to lash out, to silence that grief - but what right had I? This was my doing, my claws that had ripped apart their world.
I turned, the weight of it all pressing down on me, and made to leave. Each step was a struggle, as if the floor itself sought to hold me there, to force me to face what I'd wrought. But Cairo's voice stopped me, sharp and pleading through his sobs.
"Your Highness! Please tell me! Is there an afterlife in this world? If I die now, Master and I will definitely meet again in the afterlife, right?!"
I paused, half-turning to look at him. His face was a mess of blood and tears, his eyes wild with a hope I couldn't bear.
"There is no afterlife," I said, my voice flat and cold, a blade to sever his delusion. It was the truth I clung to - no redemption, no reunion, just the dark and the dust.
I walked on, leaving him to his mourning, the sound of his howls fading behind me. Leah stood in the corridor beyond, her silhouette framed by the morning light spilling through a distant window. She saw me - saw the blood painting my hands, the storm in my eyes - and her lips parted as if to speak. But I raised a hand, sharp and final.
"Do me a favor, Leah. Don't say a word."
She nodded, her silence a mercy, and stepped forward to take my hands in hers. They were cold, trembling despite the strength I'd forged into them, and her warmth seeped into me like a balm I didn't deserve. I couldn't hold it back any longer - the beast retreated, and the man broke. I leaned down, burying my face in her shoulder, and my body shook with sobs I couldn't voice.
Tears streamed from my eyes, hot and relentless, soaking her dress as I sank to my knees. She wrapped her arms around me, holding tight as if she could piece me back together. The blood on my hands smeared against her, a mark of my sin, and yet she didn't flinch. In that moment, I was no prince, no Lycan, just a soul unraveling under the weight of what I'd lost.
I'd killed him - Finn, the slave who'd dared to love me, who'd seen something in me worth loving. And in killing him, I'd torn out a piece of myself, a wound that bled beneath the surface where no one could see. I remembered his laugh, rare and rough, the way he'd stood straighter when I entered a room, the quiet strength in his hands when he'd served me. He'd been a mirror, reflecting back the parts of me I'd buried - weakness, longing, humanity.
Now he was gone, and Kairo's grief was a blade twisting in my gut. I envied him that freedom to weep, to howl his pain to the heavens. I, the Lycan Prince, had to cage mine, to let it fester behind a mask of ice. But here, with Leah, I could let it spill, if only for a breath.
The morning light pressed on, indifferent to the carnage within these walls. Life would continue - wars would be fought, thrones defended - but I'd carry this moment like a scar. Finn's blood on my hands, his question echoing in my skull, my lie the last thing he'd heard. And as I knelt there, broken in my sister's arms, I wondered if I'd ever escape the torment he'd spoken of, or if I'd damned myself to it forever.