Sanara looked down in shame; intricate leather shoes filled her field of vision. She reached for Faust, her little feline companion that had somehow wandered into this imposing man's arms, as she finally looked up.
"I'm so sorry Your Majesty, I--,"...
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Immortality is solitary.
He never wished this burden upon anyone.
To never be able to see his whole family together– for the sake of their safety and to ensure the kingdom always had a surviving monarch. To live alone in a large palace full of servants who were trained to keep mostly out of sight. To second guess the intentions of everyone and anyone beside him because when every species' leaders live forever, no grudge or secret ever dies. To witness countless wars and battles. To suffer the loss of countless loved ones.
And yet, he had never wished anyone was immortal more than he did at this moment.
He felt nauseous at the selfish thought.
Simultaneously, imagining any harm coming towards his mate felt like an adversary was carving out his abdomen, slashing through his innards, from the inside.
In all his years, he had never come across an instance where he was unable to sense the presence of another werewolf. Before laying eyes upon her in the garden, Kalon had felt the exigent pull towards her. Now, despite the fact that she was in his arms, her side molded firmly against his chest, he felt nothing.
He may have called her his moon, but it was her gravity that kept him in order. Without it, he felt lost like he was out of orbit. Like he was fated for uncontrollable destruction.
Fear unlike any he had ever known sank its claws into his throat. He had just found her. After 2000 years he had just now found her. Her essence had been gone as soon as she collapsed in the temple. The moon goddess could not be so cruel as to take her away from him in the same place that was erected in her name.
Sidereus hardened when he realized that this was the same deity that had given his descendants the "gift" of immortality.
The feral King burst through the doors of the wing that housed the infirmary, nearly tearing the doors off their hinges and startling the healer who had been diligently updating his records. His eyes bulged at the large man cradling a small, limp woman in his arms. So much so, that his response slightly faltered.
The healer mostly treated the castle's soldiers who normally presented with a festering wound or displaced limb from training. A few centuries had passed since the last war which meant serious injuries seldom occurred and it was exceedingly rare that any of the royals required treatment. After all, their bodies recovered rapidly. There were few things that could kill an immortal, none of which were commonplace: pestilence, strong poison, or decapitation. The former was the demise of Princess Anya.
When Sidereus entered the infirmary in a panicked state, the healer rushed to meet the King at the bed nearest to the entrance where he ever so gently laid down his Queen.
"She has fainted. I do not know why." Sidereus gritted out in a hurry, his face was contorted into a grimace as if he were the one laid out on the cot, not the one standing beside it. "Tell me what is wrong. What must be done?"
