The Alpha King's Human

Part 42: Rylan

The anguished refrain reverberates through the chamber, a desperate plea that tears through my chest. "No, no, no," the words escape my lips like a guttural prayer, a fervent cry to defy the encroaching darkness. Her name, a delicate melody on my tongue, hangs in the air, laden with fear and desperation.

"Aurora, wake up, love, wake up," I plead, my voice cracking with a vulnerability I never knew I possessed. The room is a blur of urgency as doctors, their faces etched with determination, swarm around her. The midwife's gaze meets mine, a silent exchange that speaks volumes about the gravity of the situation.

"Save her!" I command, the words tearing from the depths of my soul. The cries of our newborns, their innocent wails, weave into the chaotic symphony of life and death. The air is heavy with dread, and I find myself caught in the undertow of a storm I cannot control.

"No, Aurora, wake up!" I repeat the mantra, each repetition a silent vow to defy the cruel fate that threatens to snatch her away. The room feels oppressive, the shadows dancing in sinister patterns on the stone walls. I refuse to accept the impending loss; it's a thought etched in the fibers of my being, a promise that echoes through the tumultuous chamber.

The doctors surround her, their urgency a sharp contrast to my growing frustration. Every fiber of my being screams for a release, a rampage to vent the helplessness clawing at my insides. My mate lies unconscious, bleeding out, and I am forced to watch, restrained by the invisible chains of vulnerability.

I can't leave her side. I won't.

The rhythm of her heartbeat is a lifeline, each sluggish thud echoing through the chamber. It has slowed, and panic tightens its grip on my chest. The only hope I cling to is that rhythmic pulse, the delicate cadence that whispers of life. I hold her close, as if the intensity of my embrace could defy the looming threat that seeks to tear her from me.

I won't let go. Not now.

In the silent chaos of that chamber, I grapple with the reality unfolding before me. This can't be happening. Not to her. Not to us. The world narrows down to the fragile thread connecting us, and in that moment, my world hinges on the heartbeat of my precious mate.

A million thoughts race through my mind, each one a torment as I listen to the faint thump of her heart. I should have been better, a more devoted mate, a better man for her. Regret gnaws at me, tearing through my resolve. I should have changed, for her. Why didn't I?

In the recesses of my memories, our recent moments replay like a cruel tapestry. I told her I wouldn't change, stubborn in my pride. But now, as I face the imminent loss of the woman I love, I beg the moon goddess for a chance to make amends. If she spares Aurora, I'll become the man she deserves, the man she desires.

I will learn true self-control, not just wear it as a facade. Anything, everything, I'll do it for her. The weight of my promises presses upon me, and I plead with the unseen forces for her survival.

"Please let her live," I whisper, my voice a desperate plea. "Take me if you must, but not her. Never her." Aurora is too good for this world, too good for me. I can't bear the thought of facing life alone, without her by my side.

Our children, our legacy, they need their mother. What good will I be without her? I am lost in the void of my own inadequacy. I need my mate. The emptiness without her is a void too vast to fathom, and I find myself entangled in the silent plea echoing in the depths of my soul.

The doctors, their faces etched with a somber resignation, start to back away. "What? What are you doing? Help her!" I yell, my voice a desperate plea in the cavernous space. "There is only so much that a human body can withstand, your majesty," one answers solemnly.