Chapter 222: The Plea

Rhydor’s POV

My mother did not move a single inch.

She just stood there on the plush rug, frozen like a statue carved from ice.

Her hands, usually so steady when she practiced or did her things, were trembling violently at her sides.

Her wide, pale eyes were locked onto Azura’s pale, blood-stained face, staring down at her with a look of dread.

The silence stretching between us was heavy, thick, and suffocating, broken only by the crackle of the wood burning in the massive stone fireplace behind her.

"What are you waiting for?" I demanded, my chest heaving as I tightened my arms around Azura’s limp waist.

"Do something! Ma"

My voice cracked loudly, the sound raw and empty of the deep authority I usually carried as an Alpha.

I looked up at her, my vision blurring with hot, angry tears that I could no longer hold back.

"I just begged you," I said, my voice breaking completely as a sob caught in my throat.

"I did something I have never done in my entire life. I dropped to my knees, and I begged you. So why are you not doing anything? Why are you all being so heartless to me right now?"

The tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, burning hot trails through the dirt and gray ash coating my cheeks.

I squeezed Azura closer to my bare chest, desperately trying to share my body heat with her cold, unresponsive skin.

"Do something, Mother," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of my desperation.

My mother took a slow step backward. Then she took another, her shoes sliding quietly across the polished wooden floor.

She slowly raised her trembling hand, pressing her palm firmly over her mouth as if she were trying to choke back a scream.

Her eyes never left the quiet, pale girl resting in my arms.

"Rhydor," my father’s voice cut through the quiet room.

His voice was calm, steady, and deep, carrying the heavy weight of a retired leader.

I heard his voice clearly, but I completely ignored it. I didn’t want to look at him.

I didn’t want to hear whatever rational, cold advice he was about to give me. I only wanted my mother to move her hands and save my mate.

"Rhydor, calm down," my father said, his voice rising slightly louder this time as he took a step toward me.

"What do you mean, calm down?" I snapped, my head whipping around as my red eyes flared with a vicious, burning heat.

I glared up at him from my position on the floor, my voice sounding incredibly raw and shredded from all the screaming I had done at the river.

My entire frame was shaking violently, my muscles tensing as I struggled to keep myself from completely falling apart.

"Do you even know what it feels like to hold your second half this way?" I asked him, my voice trembling with a deep, agonizing sorrow.

"She is not moving. She is not moving, Father."

I looked down at Azura’s face again, my voice dropping until it was soft, broken, and barely audible in the quiet study.

"She is not moving."

I turned my desperate gaze back to my mother, ignoring the way my father’s expression softened with a deep, helpless pity.

"Mother, please," I begged, the last of my pride completely slipping away.

"I beg you. If you can take half of mine, just give it to her. Take half of my life force. Take all of it. Anything. Do absolutely anything you want to do to my body."

"But please, I am begging you, bring her back to me."

My mother looked at my tear-stained face, her own features twisting with an unbearable, agonizing pain.

She slowly turned her face away from me, burying her nose deep into my father’s broad chest as she broke down into loud, ragged sobs.

My father immediately wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him as she wept.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, a wave of bitter frustration rising in my chest.

"This is not something to cry about. You should start working on her. What is the point of having all of these legendary powers if you cannot even use them when it matters?"

My strength suddenly vanished, and I slumped completely to the hard wooden floor.

I curled my body around Azura, holding her cold, lifeless frame tightly against my bare chest, refusing to let even a sliver of space exist between us.

"Please, Mother," I whispered into the quiet room, my eyes closing tightly.

"Please."

I slowly lowered my gaze back to her face. I reached up with a trembling hand, my rough fingers gently brushing against her jawline as I gave her a soft, desperate shake.

"Pumpkin," I murmured, using the silly name I had dared to say out loud when she was awake.

I leaned down and pressed my forehead gently against her cold temple, closing my eyes as I breathed in the faint, fading scent of rain that still clung to her black hair.

"Please, do not do this to me," I pleaded, my chest aching with a hollow, physical pain that felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

"I told you I would wait for you. I told you I would accept any punishment you wanted to give me for the things I did."

"But this, Azura, this is not a good punishment. This is pure suffering. You are overdoing it."

I slowly pulled my head back, looking down into her open, glass-like eyes.

They were still staring up at the ceiling, completely vacant, reflecting nothing but the dim glow of the firelight.

"Please, just blink your eyes," I begged her, my fingers gently tracing her cheekbone.

"Please."

She did not move a single muscle. Her chest remained perfectly still against mine, lacking the comforting rise and fall of life.

"Please," I whispered, my voice dropping into a broken, breathless sob.

I slumped my entire upper body over her chest, burying my face in the crook of her neck.

I let out a loud, agonizing cry, weeping into her black and white hair as the tears soaked into her clothes.

I could not stop crying, the pain inside my chest was so heavy and violent that it felt like my own soul was being ripped out of my body.

I never knew that one day I would be this weak.

I had spent my entire life building walls around my heart, believing that a true Alpha must never show vulnerability, that feelings were nothing but a liability in a world ruled by strength and blood.

I had viewed everyone around me as tools or obstacles, treating the fragile girl in my arms with a cold, harsh brutality because I was too cowardly to admit the hold she had over me.

Now, kneeling and covered in ash on my parents’ floor, I finally understood the truth.

I never knew that this was how far my path would go.

I never knew that I would be the one to push her to the edge, to make her suffer through my silence and my anger, only for her to leave this world without giving me a single chance to give anything back to her.

I had taken and taken, and now I was left with nothing but a cold, quiet shell of the only person who had ever truly known my soul.

******

Genevieve’s POV

It had been a week since Azura died and since Rhydor locked himself in the tomb with her body.

He refused to leave the room. He refused to eat, he refused to bathe, and he refused to speak.

He just sat on the cold floor, staring blankly at the wall.

His back rested against the stone slab where her body floated in a quiet, preserved rest.

I walked in again. The air inside the chamber was cold and damp, heavy with a suffocating grief.

"Son," I said softly, stepping closer.

"You need to eat. You need to freshen up. You have been down here for a week."

He did not answer. He did not even look at me.

I let out a quiet sigh. I straightened my dress and looked over at the place where Azura’s body lay.

Her face looked peaceful. Too peaceful. It looked like she was just sleeping.

I looked at my son one last time. He had not moved a single inch.

Turning away, I walked toward the door.

At the doorway, I stopped.

Someone was pressed against the stone wall just outside, trying to be invisible. But they were not hiding very well.

Amanda.

I had noticed her out here before. She had been constantly trying to get inside, trying to see Azura.

But I had refused her every time. I could not let her go inside. I had no idea how Rhydor would react if he saw her.

She peeked around the corner, her grown body pressed flat against the stone, her eyes wide and innocent.

When she heard my footsteps, she froze. She pressed herself harder against the masonry, thinking she was completely hidden and that no one could see her.

She still had the mind of a five-year-old child.

I smiled gently and walked toward her.

"I know you are there," I said softly.

She did not come out.

"Come," I murmured. "Let me fix your hair. It looks like you have been running through the bushes. There are twigs everywhere."

She peeked out first before finally stepping into the open.

I reached out and gently pulled a small twig from her hair.

She looked up at me with those innocent eyes. She did not understand why I refused to let her go inside, but she did not argue.

She just stood there, waiting quietly.

I smiled again.

"Let us go," I said softly.