Chapter 6

Azura pressed her palm over the ashes, closing her eyes in concentration. Dark energy flickered from her hand, swirling like a black mist, but when it settled over the remains of the flower, nothing happened.

She tried again, her frustration mounting as the result stayed the same—no life, no spark, just the same lifeless ashes.

"Why isn't it working?" she growled under her breath, gripping her head in irritation. Her pulse quickened, anger and confusion rising, when suddenly another vision forced itself into her mind—this time far from the tender memory of her mother.

The scene shifted into something horrifying. A battlefield stretched before her, the earth soaked with blood, fires raging uncontrollably as bodies—men, women, children—lay strewn across the land like broken dolls. Screams echoed in the air, mixing with the clashing of swords and the desperate cries of the helpless.

Azura’s heart pounded in her chest, her breaths quickening as she watched women and children try to flee, only to be mercilessly slaughtered by men on horseback. It was chaos. A nightmare.

And then, her blood ran cold.

Through the smoke and death, she saw her mother—a vision now twisted into horror. Her beautiful golden hair was matted with blood, and she was held captive like an animal by a group of royal guards. Azura’s breath hitched as their leader, the king himself, stepped forward. He circled her mother like a predator.

"No..." Azura whispered, dread clawing at her.

The king unsheathed his sword. In a heartbeat, he swung, and her mother’s head fell to the ground. Her lifeless body followed, crumpling like a broken doll onto the bloodstained earth.

"NOOOOO!" Azura screamed, the memory tearing through her soul.

The scream was powerful, raw, and filled with every ounce of agony she had buried for years. Her power surged out of her, uncontrollable and wild. All around her, the objects in the lab—books, chairs, equipment—began to shake violently before flying through the air and crashing to the ground in a chaotic storm.

Glass shattered. Shelves toppled. Destruction reigned.

Azura stood in the center of it all, trembling, her breathing ragged, as the vision faded. Her eyes burned black, her rage still boiling beneath the surface.

The tattoo on Azura's wrist, a pattern of five circles linked in an intricate loop, began to glow, but this time only two of the circles illuminated—a rare and ominous sign. Her heart raced as the destruction in the lab escalated around her, driven by the storm of emotions and power she had unleashed.

Suddenly, the ceiling groaned under the strain, and the chandelier hanging above cracked, threatening to crash down upon her. Frozen by the weight of her anguish and power, she didn’t react in time to stop it.

But before the heavy glass could touch her, a firm hand yanked her back. Rylan.

He moved swiftly, pulling her into his chest, his protective instinct taking over. As they hit the floor, his body shielded hers, and she felt her powers dissipate as though he had siphoned them away.

She heard the crash—the chandelier shattered above them, sending glass shards raining down. Rylan winced, and she saw the pain flash across his face as the jagged pieces pierced his back, cutting through his shirt.

"Rylan…" she whispered, her voice shaky.

His hold on her tightened as the glass continued to fall around them, but he didn’t let go. His breath was heavy against her ear, but his focus was entirely on keeping her safe, regardless of the pain tearing into him.

“You really need to stop almost killing yourself, demon girl,” he muttered through gritted teeth..

As they both stood up, Azura’s eyes widened in panic as she saw the damage done to Rylan. His back was marred with deep cuts, and the bloodstains on his shirt made her stomach churn. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch the wounds, guilt washing over her in waves. She felt responsible—she was the cause of this.

Rylan, however, didn't even flinch. Instead, he gently cupped her face, his fingers warm against her tear-streaked cheeks. His dark eyes, usually filled with mischief, were now filled with genuine concern as they locked onto hers. “What happened to you, demon girl?” he asked softly, his tone carrying an unexpected tenderness.

Her voice was shaky as she stared at the wounds. "Rylan, it must be hurting," she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from the cuts that marred his skin.

"It hurts more seeing you like this, weak and broken, Azura," he said, his sincerity piercing through her defenses. His intense black eyes scanned her face, noticing the tear-stained cheeks, the slight redness in her eyes, and her messy hair. She didn’t understand why, but her heart skipped a beat. This man was an enigma, and she couldn’t make sense of his unwavering care for her.

"Turn around," she ordered, her voice firm but laced with guilt.

Rylan smirked, never one to let a serious moment pass without teasing. "Isn't it me who's supposed to say that... to you?" His tone was playful, and despite the situation, he managed to make her blush.

"Rylan," she called again, this time her voice more exasperated, knowing full well he would never change.

"As you command," he replied, his smirk fading into something softer as he turned around, exposing his bloodied back to her. She carefully removed the shards of glass from his wounds, her hands surprisingly steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside her.

Azura finished removing the last shard of glass and stepped back, her mind racing with thoughts of the damage she had caused. But before she could fully retreat, Rylan turned around, closing the distance she had carefully put between them. His wounds, already beginning to heal, were a stark reminder of what he was. A Lycan—his body mending itself with supernatural speed.

She tried to slip away, desperate to escape his presence and the reminder of the chaos she always brought.

But he, quick as ever, caught her wrist in a firm grip, stopping her in her tracks. “Why do you always run away?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a confusion that bordered on frustration.

Azura froze, his question hitting a nerve she wasn’t prepared to face. She had spent so long pushing people away, isolating herself from any form of attachment. No friends. No family. No one to care for her. Because if they did, they would suffer. That’s how it had always been.

She hesitated, her usual walls of sarcasm and indifference faltering for just a moment. “If I stay for long,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’ll destroy everything. I hurt people and curse them with misfortune.” with that she ran out of the room.

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