Afterlife

11.5K 568 26
                                    

Elmer's POV 

It is dark, and a smooth warmth has replaced the cold. Tall trees stand guard around me as I draw my final breaths. The night is somehow not how I thought it would be. Yes, it is mysterious and serene but there truly is nothing out here. The thing that I searched for isn't here. Only the dark stretches for miles. It is truly endless. 

Maybe I went out here to find love. Maybe I wanted my mother back or maybe I was looking for the love I never got from Scar. We met in a forest just like this. Perhaps I am drawn to the dark because he is my mate. Perhaps that is what killed me. 

I might slip into the otherworld at any point now. My whole body is warm and placid. There is nothing out here. There never was. Just a stupid wish of a child to be loved. I close my eyes and fall into the dark but a small howl yanks me back. It's a howl of someone who has lost their mate. A sorrow too heavy for words clings to its echo. 

My body instantly realizes that the howl belongs to Cassian. But why would he howl for me? 

Another tworn up wail wrecks the night and this time I know for sure. But why is he sad if he never loved me? 

Everything hurts when I unfold myself. I look at my hands that have turned almost grey. I can't feel them, but some strange force makes everything flash in pain. The tiny hope that he might feel something for me hurts more than all the rejection, more than the cold and more than cruelty of the moon. 

Unable to resist it I use my dying strength to howl into the night. 

Do you really love me? 

I dream of big shadow wolves on white walls and little me lying in bed being scared. I dream of following the shadow as it slips into the darkness of the night. I dream of hurring after it's tail as it disappears amongst the trees. I dream of the starry sky above the frozen lake and about our first meeting. 

In my dreams he doesn't really hate me. In my dreams he is scared and afraid. In my dreams he dares to touch me lovingly before yanking his hand away and rushing out into the night. 

I am nothing but a helpless bytstander and cannot make him stay no matter what I do. He is all around me lurking in the shadows but I cannot graps him, cannot see him properly, until I get to the lake. 

There he towers above me, huge and darker than the darkest shadows. Only his eyes sparkle like the stars and his scar gleam pink and sad. He looks so sad. His eyes are wet with restricted rage and an anger that comes from utter sorrow. 

I reach my hand out to touch him but he slips away again. Right, this isn't real. He was never sad or scared, just hateful. 

Yet I continue to dream of my mate and as the dream gets deeper and stanger I allow myself to believe that there was a reason for his hatred, that I didn't live in pain for nothing. Not that it matters, since this is my dying dream. 

ScarWhere stories live. Discover now