"Edward!"
Before Edward could respond, he felt himself tugged back violently by the collar, dragged backward while bent at the knees.
He saw it like a reverie: unreal and horrific.
The keen-edged claws slicing across the space above his face.
Just an inch or two sharper and he would have sniffled his nose goodbye—or face.
With one arm dragging Edward back, Edric launched an attack with the violent swing of the other. Not to hit the creature—at least not directly—but to terr a ferocious, searing spike from the ground and jab it into its side.
It plunged with a guttural wince, the creature hurtling across the air before ragdolling with violent bumps on the ground.
It stopped flat on the back a few metres ahead, Edward regaining his balance, before being immediately impaled by sudden skewering quills from the ground.
A corrosive, shrieking growl escaped it as the spikes punctured further up through it, ascending with it in the air while its blood rained torrents on the ground.
Edward couldn't watch.
Edric lifted his hand higher up, the spikes rising with it, the creature's growling now blood-choked gurgles.
He fisted his hand.
The spikes' tips aggregated in a smooth lithic table—long and wide enough to cover the beast.
Edward stole a glance.
Edric flung his hand open, then, with an immediate flip, turned it downwards—in a claw posture.
Spindles flashed from beneath the table.
Edward knew exactly what was coming.
Edric thrusted his hand down aggressively.
The tableau of gore slammed into the ground with a disturbing, crackling crunch.
The brute was no more. Just a mash of flesh and cracked bones beneath the ground—its blood outpouring profusely from the table's edges.
Edward felt as if he could wrench out all his guts, swallow them back, and do it all over again. Nausea was weighing down on him.
Edric caught him before he could stagger off balance.
"Hey. It's okay. You're..."
But just then, his gaze darted behind Edward. It intensified into a glare.
The rest of the brutes. They were there. They had arrived.
Circling the two boys, the werewolves seemed to eye Edric with a particular glint—almost mischievous, almost... victorious.
A particularly bigger one stepped forward from the horde.
Edric pressed Edward firmly beside him, his hands out and poised to terr an attack.
The werewolves stayed put—all on their fours.
The one in front of them took one of its hands and pressed onto its mouth as a fist. It made a hoarse, throaty sound.
Edward noticed just how their forelimbs were longer than the hind ones.
"Wie geht es dir?" the werewolf husked.
Edward found—
"Darling." It added.
Shattered. Shattering astoundment grinded the wits out of Edward's noggin.
"...Mace?" he asked between trembling breaths.
A smile crept up the beast's face. It looked more grotesque.
Edward almost stumbled back, but Edric's solid hold kept him upstanding.
"Do you know him?" Edric whispered.
Edward looked him in the eye, the memory of an unconscious, legless Mace, lying back in the car inanimately, as he was being swooped over the road, flashed back at him.
"He's supposed to be dead," Edward said looking back at Mace, terrified. He turned back to Edric. "Isn't he?"
His jeans had multiple spots of Mace's blood. Spots from during the spiralling of the car's rear section.
"Oh, mein Liebling," Mace coarsened, stepping closer, now on his hind limbs.
Edric gave a warning glare.
He stopped.
Mace scoffed a bemused chuckle. "Oh, the naivety of you!" He spat.
Edward was too busy gaping at Mace's legs.
Edric wasn't the bit intimidated.
"You really think you can beat us?!" Mace roared, gesturing to all the werewolves around them—eyes garnet, teeth bared. His chest rose in wild tides.
He stepped closer.
Edric stanced himself.
"It'll be nice for you to try!" He said, lunging at them, claws out, face a snarl.
Edric dropped his hands beside him gently and closed his eyes.
Edward's eyes bulged.
Then, suddenly, with a sharp flick, he flung them open.
Mace froze in the air and an earth wall rose around them, enclosing the open area—the werewolves blocked out.
Mace had the look of pure shock.
Edric groaned with an eye roll. "Dust," he explained, seeming... calm?
Edward was not getting his vibe. Neither was Mace.
Edric motioned to the ground with his hand. Mace's body followed.
He landed onto the ground with his knees and hands, but before he could move, Edric manacled him—tight earth pressing around his hands and legs.
He smiled.
Edric snubbed it.
He walked to him, circling him. "So tell me... Mace?" He shot a querying glance at Edward.
Edward nodded.
He continued. "What's your deal with my bro here?" He gestured to Edward. "Surely you know what lies beneath us." He tapped the ground with his foot. Edward was blank. "So why risk it? Why obsess this much about getting him back? Kidnapping him?"
Mace chuckled.
He looked so obscenely savage up close. It was finally starting to register in Edward how horrific werewolves were, and unreal.
Edric scratched his eyebrow in exasperation. "What's so funny? Why aren't you taking this seriously?" He stepped in front of Mace, face and demeanor calm. "Do you really think I am joking? Trust me, I have dark humour... you don't want to laugh with me."
Mace still had that wicked smile on him. "Trust me, I know," he admitted, nodding towards the thick, clotted blood far to his side. "I know, mate." He mocked Edric's accent.
Edric's eye twitched.
"But what I don't know... is why you'd so daringly butt into our affairs," he looked toward Edward, "and take our sacrificial lamb." He blinked in that charming, adorable way, with a fair smile on his face.
Edward's body tensed, and went cold—subtly shaking with that all-consuming fear. Air choked him at the throat. His body grew sensitive to every sensation, even the grazing wind.
He just stood there trembling and staring at Mace with glistening eyes.
A blow.
Mace's head whipped to the right.
He turned it back calmly with an indifferent look—smirk persistent.
Another.
Edric ran a hand through his hair whilst taking in a breath, his other hand rubbing contemptuously against his jacket.
Edward wondered just how strong that hand was.
"Had enough?" Mace asked, still amused, blood showcasing on his teeth, his canines prominent.
Edric delivered another punch. "Now that was for wasting my time," he said, indifferently shaking off imaginary filth from his hand.
"Now, are you ready to talk?" He asked, stepping closer to Mace and leaning forward to his face, a smile up the side of his lips.
Mace turned again, just as calm, trying to feel his jaw as blood practically dripped out of his mouth.
He looked at Edric with lit-up eyes, tilting his head to the side, a smirk on.
Edric tilted his head the same direction.
"Hmm," Mace exhaled, voice gravelling. "It'd be a shame to kill you. I didn't even know Terramics still existed. But you seem exotic. You are exotic. But you'll also be extinct." His grin flashed wider.
Edward was picking up on something. Terramics? Still existed? Exotic?
"You know you can't win, right?" Edric asked lightly, straightening up. "You—"
"Kimrole?" Mace asked.
Edric blinked.
Edward wondered. He stepped closer.
Mace burst out into laughter. "You really think that's what's kept us at bay? Restrained us from shredding you into pieces already?" He continued laughing.
Edward felt extremely vexed.
"My God!" Mace continued, voice rolling with amusement. "The persona non grata is the one who actually fell for the decoy!"
The others from outside the wall could be heard guffawing and growling.
"Edric," Edward's voice quivered. He swallowed, eyes so full of angst. "What did you think to have them at bay by? What is he talking about?"
A giggle snapped attention back to Mace. "It was supposed to be a reassurance plan in case that one," he gestured toward Edward, "by any way outmaneuvered us."
He looked back at Edric. "But I guess the mchawi majani juice did the trick just fine. It was sufficient—generously, in fact—"
"Why are you still there on the ground then?" Edric interrupted. He was finally starting to seem worked up. "Why have you not freed yourself and attacked?"
Mace shrugged. "Same reason you were pulling punches." Edric's eyes narrowed. "To get answers before doing something drastic."
"Have you even tried to move it? Access it?" Mace challenged. "Or were you just saving it up as your last resort?"
"You're exotic, mate," he continued. "But so are we."
And with that, he tore free from his holds, chunks of earth exploding in all directions, a feral growl echoing through the forest.
Beastly.
With Edric's arm outstretched before him, Edward suddenly felt the ground roll back with an immediate, smooth drift, Edric's grab catching him just in time before he toppled back by inertia.
His breathing caught. His heart flipped.
But he had no time to marvel. Up the wall, the lycanthropes crawled, leaping in, circling them once again. The maniacal one, a distance ahead of them, huffing and grinning, red eyes glistening with the same darkness Edward had caught while in the car. Even in the gathering night, Edward couldn't miss it—it sparked, ferocious, fierce, and dark. There was something fundamentally vile about Mace.
"You've felt it, haven't you?" Mace's voice grated, advancing towards them.
Edric poised himself, eyes narrow, assessing the environment with sharp precision.
Edward stuck close, constantly looking behind, the beasts closing in on them.
"I knew it!" Mace remarked. "Even you, a terramic, can't access it. The barrier is a bit challenging. Isn't it?"
Edric shifted his front leg.
Mace smirked. "Good." And then suddenly, he shot forward, movement in zips, trajectory in zigzags.
Edward was honestly getting tired of the supernatural. Werewolves could move that fast?
"Urgh!" Edric grunted as he whipped a huge, long whip from the ground all of a sudden.
It crushed against Mace hard, catching him off guard and slamming him off course.
He flew across the space, bashed through the wall, and slammed against a tree outside.
The tree shook, some branches falling.
Edric did a gesture with his hand. The whip settled back into the earth, the wall sinking into place.
His gaze sharpened, calculating, werewolves advancing.
The beasts attacked all at once.
Edric did a swift motion with one of his hands—sweeping it loftily around his head, the other moving in an outward arc.
An enormous filigree sphere rose immediately, wrapping around them and whirling at intense speed, the air in it spinning just as violently.
Their hairs blew in the air, Edric's looser.
"We need to go!" Edric screamed through the cyclone, adamant wolves trying to get in being sliced by the sharp edges of the sphere's openings, falling in as only halves of themselves—or parts.
Edward stared at the carcasses, fresh and bloody, lives draining out of them as their blood greedily drenched the soil, the air thick with iron.
"How?!" He howled, turning back to Edric.
"Move back!" Edric commanded, readying his hands.
Edward obeyed, eyeballing him.
But suddenly—
"Ah!" Edric winced.
He reached for something on his back, but just as he did... another wince.
His face contorted, pain visible, the filigree faltering.
Edward furrowed his brows. He attempted to move closer, but immediately he saw Edric collapse onto the ground with his knees, a painful shrill escaping him, his hands struggling to reach some place on his back.
He rushed to him, but just as he was about to drop to his knees, he felt himself being yanked back violently by the collar.
"Ah!" He yelped, the collar tugging him, his arms and legs flailing frantically in the air as he tried to resist.
Futile.
He was then slammed to the ground hard by an imposing, gigantic hand with his head first—its palm leathery, claws digging into his back.
His nose broke, blood spewing out of it profusely. His face had several bruises of abrasions with the ground.
Another ear-piercing scream escaped Edric.
Edward looked up to see him being tackled to the ground too by another werewolf, several, unidentifiable, eerie-looking things embedded onto his back.
The spinning stopped. The sphere collapsed back onto the ground as soil, bathing them.
Edward looked at the overwhelmed Edric with remorse as several other werewolves lunged at him, tackling him, mutilating him just enough to inflict pain, but to ensure survival.
Claws. Blood. Groans. Flesh. Slicing.
The horror played out in splendid torment; Edward screaming at them to stop, pressed to the ground with his hands behind him, tears spewing down his face—the savages relishing in the exercise, maniacal grins on their faces, killing drive glimmering in their eyes.
"Stop!" A voice boomed from across the space.
They stopped, pulling Edric onto his knees and holding him by the back of his neck.
Mace marched into sight, half of his face critically bruised.
"You shouldn't take it so personally, you know?" he jestered.
The brutes showed no amusement.
He rolled his eyes. "Ugh. You guys are such a joy kill."
He walked closer to Edric, squatting before him. "Told ya you can't beat us," he said, trailing a finger on his face.
"Please just take me!" Edward bellowed from beneath the beast on him, face ashen with tear streaks, mouth and chin covered in dried-up blood.
"Please," he pleaded on. "It's me you want. Not him. So just take me. Take me and leave him alone. Let him live."
Mace stood up and walked to him, towering above him. He gestured to the wolf holding him down and looked back down at him.
Edward immediately felt himself flipped onto his feet. He took in the shock and turned back to Mace quickly. "I beg you, just take me. I won't even try to resist. I w—"
"You're not in the capacity to make any requests, Liebling," Mace cut in coldly.
Edward's heart dropped.
"You see that kid?" Mace continued before Edward could, turning to Edric.
Edward looked over at Edric, taking in the devastating sight again: torn clothes soaked with blood, a weak, almost lifeless Edric on his knees, and... the look of despair in his eyes—the one that cut through Edward's heart with merciless acuity.
Edric looked so defeated and waned.
Edward found tears slipping down his cheeks again. He snapped back at Mace.
"We can't let him go," Mace concluded.
He walked over to Edric again, lifting his face by the chin. "You see," he carried on, staring into Edric's drowsy eyes. "This guy has done a number on us. Killed so many of us in just a single day and in less than three hours." He let go of Edric's chin and spun back to Edward.
"That's... never happened. At least not by a normal Terrii."
He paused, letting the silence sink.
Then continued. "The fact alone that this guy is a Terramic puts him at an exotic status. But he's also dangerous, and a threat to our course. So he's gotta go," Mace said rather flatly and sympathetically.
He whipped a brief glance at Edric before turning back to Edward. "He cares for you," he said genuinely, hands clasped before him. "He really does. He'd rather use the last of his strength to make sure you're not in pain," he stared at Edward's lacerated arm, "than try and save himself."
Edward looked at his arm, then back at Mace, face a bewilderment.
"You two would have been great friends," Mace said, turning back to Edric. He flashed his claws. "Maybe even brothers." He zipped to him with that abrupt, supernatural speed, grabbing him by the neck.
The werewolves that had been holding Edric stepped back.
"The ride or die kind," Mace continued, positioning his hand, ready to slice Edric's head clean off.
"Just like Hallington."
He swung his hand, a twisted grin forming on Edric's face.
Then, suddenly, everything froze.
Not time, not the surrounding, but every single wolf in the area.
Edric's smile persisted. Mace's eyes bulged in horror.
"What did you say?!" Edward's voice boomed, his feet lifting off the ground, his focus sharpening into impossible clarity.
He could see it. He could sense it. He could FEEL it.
The connection.
Every. Single. One of them.
The water molecules. The ones in the brutes' bodies. They called on to him. They bonded with him. They acknowledged him.
Mace spun slowly to face him, his posture still frozen, his eyes still wide—lifting off the ground just like the other brutes.
Edric's body reclined slowly onto the ground with gentle ease, the air beneath him dense. He tried to keep awake, his eyes flickering, his energy minimal.
"What did you say?!" Edward exploded with a heart-shattering blast, the trees ahead whipping forward.
The beasts' eyes rolled back, the one behind Edward trying to touch him, its hand trembling.
Edward snapped at it with a sharp look. They were higher up in the air now. He squinted his gaze, and with just a thought, the creature's head exploded—flesh, bones, and blood floating above its convulsing body—dreamy and macabre.
He flipped back to Mace with a hostile glare—his eyes were normal. "You're the one who should have known your mate," Edward seethed. "Darling."
Immediately, his irises blazed a royal blue, but with harsh suddenness, a memory flickered. A haunting one:
Arguing, smacking, bouncing, dragging, throwing, triggering.
That night.
The night he had discovered he had powers. The night he had blasted his father to the wall.
The memory settled unpleasantly into him, crumbling his focus.
The beasts' eyes rolled back into place.
Edward remembered the look of fear in his father's eyes, right before he had blasted him. The urgency he had had to vent. The feeling of it once he had done so. The... the horror on his mother's face.
But resolve came just as quick and abrupt as the memory had. He looked up again, at the bewildered Mace, his eyes still blazing.
The werewolves' eyes rolled back again, and just as immediately, every single one of them exploded—even Mace.
Blood, flesh, and bones lingered in the air.
Edward's energy waned.
Everything fell—even him.