Chapter 225: Make Friends

Rhydor’s POV

I walked down the stone corridor, the heavy sound of my leather boots echoing off the damp walls.

The flickering flames of the torches cast long, dancing shadows across the masonry as I passed them by.

Each step felt heavy, like dragging iron chains, but I kept moving forward because this dark room was the only place in the entire pack house where I could find a single second of peace.

I reached the grand door at the end of the hall and pushed it open, stepping into the quiet darkness.

She was there, right in the center of the chamber. She was floating in midair, held up by the shimmering invisible energy that kept her body preserved from the touch of time.

Her long black and white hair spread out around her head like a bright halo in the dim torchlight.

Her face looked peaceful, soft, and calm. She looked remarkably beautiful, as if she were waiting for me to wake her up from a sweet dream.

I stood at the entrance for a quiet moment, refusing to move. I just stood there, staring at her, letting the sight of her fill my empty chest.

Slowly, I walked closer to her floating form. I unbuttoned my dark outer robe, the heavy formal garment I was forced to wear for those endless, irritating council meetings with the pack elders.

I shrugged it off my shoulders and let it drop uselessly onto the wooden chair beside the stone altar.

Taking a seat, I leaned back and fixed my eyes on her face.

"How are you?" I asked, my voice coming out soft and quiet in the empty room.

A tiny, bitter smile touched the corners of my lips as I kept looking at her quiet expression.

"How is your day going, Pumpkin?" I asked gently.

She did not answer me. She never answered me these days, no matter how long I sat here talking to the silence.

I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over my tired face.

"Mine has been terrible. All I wanted to do today was come down here and spend time with you. But those stubborn old councilmen would not leave me alone for a single hour."

"Every few minutes, they bring up one ridiculous issue after another. They keep disturbing me."

I stood up from the wooden chair and took two slow steps closer to her floating body.

Reaching out with a trembling hand, I gently grabbed her cold fingers. I lifted her small hand to my face, pressing a soft kiss against the back of her palm.

"They just keep disturbing us," I whispered, my lips lingering against her chilly skin.

I reached up with my free hand, carefully tucking a stray lock of her soft white hair behind her ear.

I stared down at her still face, my vision beginning to blur as a lump formed in my throat.

"I wish you could yell at me right now," I said, my voice cracking under the weight of my grief.

"I wish you could open your eyes and call me a jerk."

Memories came rushing back to me like a sudden flood, battering against my mind.

I remembered all the times she used to glare at me with pure defiance. I remembered the exact moment her small hand swung across the air and slapped my cheek.

I remembered the fierce, burning fire that used to light up her grey eyes whenever I pushed her too far, and I remembered the rare, breathtaking moments when she actually smiled at me.

"I wish you could call me a jerk again," I admitted, a broken sob threatening to burst out of my chest.

"I wish you could glare at me just once more. Anything, Azura. I just want you to do something. Just do anything at all."

She did not move a single muscle. Her eyelashes remained perfectly still against her pale cheeks.

I leaned down slowly, closing my eyes as I pressed my lips firmly against hers.

I forced her soft lips open, kissing her deeply, desperately trying to pour my own life, my own warmth, and my entire soul straight into her quiet mouth.

Then, everything suddenly shifted.

"Rhydor!" a distant voice called out.

I ignored the sound, keeping my eyes closed as I held onto her memory.

"Rhydor!" the voice called again, much louder and sharper this time.

I snapped my eyes open, gasping for air. The cold, dark stone tomb was completely gone.

The smell of damp earth and preserved magic vanished in an instant. I was standing outside under a vast, bright blue sky, the warm sunlight beating down on my skin and blinding my eyes for a second.

A man was running fast toward me across a grassy field. He looked to be around fifty years old, wearing the traditional clothes of our pack warriors, but the old ones.

His face looked remarkably familiar, like a memory I had seen a thousand times, but my mind was too foggy to place his name right away.

He reached me, stopping in his tracks as he bent over to catch his breath, his chest heaving heavily.

"You need to come back to the house right now," the old warrior said, wheezing between words.

"Your parents will be furious if they find out you ran off like this."

"You handle them," I said, my voice sounding flat and indifferent.

"Leave me out of this whole mess."

The man shook his head, looking at me with disapproval.

"They specifically left you in charge of your younger brother today. You need to be standing by his side while he goes through his physical training."

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a sharp wave of annoyance flare up in my gut.

"I am not his mother. Why do I need to be standing around watching him? Why is he always so clingy toward me?"

The warrior stared at me in total shock, his mouth opening slightly in surprise.

"You are the only sibling he has in this world," the man said, looking genuinely confused by my attitude.

"You are also the only real friend he has right now. Obviously, the boy is going to cling to you."

"I do not want to be around him," I replied, my tone turning cold and harsh.

"I just want my own private time."

"Please, Rhydor," the man pleaded, stepping closer to me.

"An Alpha is supposed to look after his loved ones. He is your only brother. Who else do you think he is going to play with if not you?"

I shrugged my shoulders carelessly, looking away toward the distant tree line.

"He can easily go out and make his own friends. It is not that hard to make one. I made a friend on my own."

The old warrior let out a long, tired sigh.

"Then just come back to the estate. Maybe you can help him learn how to make friends with the other children."

I rolled my eyes, letting out a heavy groan of frustration.

"Fine. Whatever you say. Where is he right now?"

"He is down at the main training ground," the man said, pointing his finger toward the lower courtyard near the barracks.

"You need to go right now before your father notices."

I frowned, my chest tight with irritation. I really did not want to go stand around a dusty yard, but I turned my boots and headed down the dirt path anyway.

I walked until I reached the edge of the training ground, the sound of wooden weapons clashing against each other filling the afternoon air.

I stopped near the wooden fence and spotted him immediately.

He was a small boy with thick, messy black hair, black as night, looking exactly like our father’s hair.

He was holding a heavy wooden training sword with both of his small hands, his knuckles turning white from the strain.

Another boy of his same age was sparring with him in the center of the ring. But that other boy clearly had the complete upper hand in the fight.

He moved much faster, hit much harder, and swung his weapon with a natural confidence my brother lacked.

Nicholas was losing the match. He was losing very badly.

The other boy swung his heavy wooden sword in a sharp arc. Nicholas tried his best to block the strike, holding his weapon up defensively, but the force of the blow sent a loud smack echoing through the yard and made him stumble back several steps.

The other boy did not give him a second to breathe. He stepped forward and struck again, hitting Nicholas right in the chest.

Nicholas lost his footing completely and tumbled backward, crashing hard onto the dirt ground.

I stood by the fence, watching my little brother get beaten down over and over again.

He could not defend his own body properly. He could not fight back with any real skill, looking small, helpless, and completely outmatched.

As I watched him push himself up from the dirt only to get knocked right back down, something dark and heavy inside my chest snapped.

I saw pure red.

That boy struggling in the dirt was my little brother. He was my own blood, carrying the same Alpha line that ran through my own veins.

And this random child was standing over him, laughing and humiliating him in front of everyone watching.

My hands curled into tight, hard fists at my sides, my knuckles popping. My jaw tightened so hard my teeth ached.

Without thinking about the consequences or the rules of the yard, I stepped right over the wooden fence and strode into the ring.