There Can Be Only One [Pt. 2]

Myranda sat between her brother and Lara as she watched the fight unfold. As everyone expected, Silas played dirty - but no one thought about how foul that act would be.

As she watched her mate attack from all sorts of directions, her stomach churned. If only Metas would just share his pain with her, then he would have a better chance. Even now, when the creature he was fighting had his back against the wall, his 'honor' was something he still held close.

In her opinion it was honorable anymore, but just reckless and stupid. She made a mental note to confront him about it later. For now, she was concentrating on trying to void her mind of all the negative outcomes that flooded it.

Behind her, Veltar began talking with Jhinto - but she didn't pay a lot of attention to what they were saying as her eyes were glued on her husband's deadly dance with the now monstrosity Silas had become.

To see him sway his long arms that lacked muscle definition was really off-putting. It looked like he had been smooshed together to look like his mortal self and his wolf form, but like a patchwork of different parts.

The extra teeth inside of the jaw of the monster stuck out and dripped with something that smelled foul and filled the room with a sulfur-like odor. Something like this was legend - it wasn't a practice done in their bloodline anymore, and it was terribly taboo.

She had to suppress the desire to jolt towards Metas as he hit the ground with so much force that there was an audible thud, and unable to bare the sight any longer she turned her head and put it against her brother's shoulder, who leaned into his baby sister with support and affection.

It was now that Jhinto and Veltar's conversation hit her ears....they were arguing about Metas... As she tried to drown out the sounds of her husband being whipped around, she focused on their words instead.

"What do you mean you want me to get that purple stuff? Do you have any idea what that did to me?" Veltar asked indignantly.

"We will need it to bring back Metas. If I know him - and I think I do, he's going to even the fighting grounds and step into the dangerous. That powder is often used in meditation for us mages. It shows you your deepest desire, and implants it in your very soul. Much like a motivator, but when mixed with green fog and red mist- it can help anyone solve the most complicated issues. What we want is to draw him back after he goes over the edge... Ergo, we need the purple haze to draw out his deepest desire after he kills Silas." Jhinto explained calmly.

"So...it shows you your hearts desire? ...Oh, well..." Veltar didn't finished his sentence, but his face felt flush and hot under his fur. "I'll just go get it, then," he followed up in a much higher pitch than he started with.

Jhinto just smiled knowingly. He was a young male once, too. He could only imagine what a young wolf in the middle of a war would yearn for, but he brushed it aside - it wasn't his business.

Myranda on the other hand had eaten up the conversation as though it had been sent to her in a letter for review. What did he mean to bring him back? Metas surely wouldn't.....

She whipped her head back to the makeshift arena and watched the end of one of the Alpha King's attacks that ended in disappointment. The Luna knew better - and although she doubted what she knew his next actions would be, her fear fully blossomed as he turned to look at her momentarily.

"Bring me back," he instructed softly as his ears bent back just a little.

"Metas, no-" Myranda tried to argue as fast as she could, but before her objections could be taken between his ears, he had already begun the similar transformation that Silas had, only his eyes weren't glowing - and his body was looking to be far more proportionate.

The large beast he turned into was bigger than anything anyone in the room had seen - save for Vincent - who merely looked on with a grin as though everything were fun and jolly.

It made Myranda hate him that much more as he looked so smug as Metas evolved into something unrecognizable.

No one was expecting that other than Jhinto. While everyone else looked horrified, he kept a straight and serious face as he watched the boy he protected for so long put himself into danger. He had faith in his 'son', but it was still something he hated to have to see.

Metas' form towered over Silas' again, and unlike his counterpart - the Alpha's arms were large and long, and instead of it looking like two thin sticks with arms attached - his wrist flowed gracefully into his two large hands.

Once again they were even, but Myranda hated what it took for Metas to even decide on such a thing. She understood - she just didn't like it. Hopefully she'd never have to see him like this again.

The claws on the end of each 'finger' seemed to grow directly from the flesh instead of being a nail - and when the great black wolf brought it down across the chest of Silas - this time there was a wound, but it didn't bleed red - it bled...green? A thick, dark, gooey green that smelled as bad as his breath did.

All around them audible sounds of 'augh, ugh, ew, and awhk' spurted through the crowd as the stench hit their noses.

Somehow, it felt fitting for him to stink on the inside as badly as he behaved on the outside.

"What in the hell?" Jyriah asked as he looked at the viscous liquid oozing down Silas' leathery chest. "What is wrong with him?"

"Radioactivity." Jhinto said plainly from behind him as he looked on with the same straight face. "Harbinger was doing lots of experiments on the boy throughout his life, and this is the result."

"Why?" Jyriah followed up with a twisted nose.

"To have a super soldier when he finally doused the land in death. Just in case." Jhinto answered with a sad sigh. "Power and madness are a fine line - one Harbinger crossed a long time ago."

"Psst" Lara hissed and turned her head to Jyriah with a glare. "Shush. I'm trying to watch this to study later."

The red and black wolf just looked at her with raised eyebrows and an expression that was a mix of surprised and offense from being 'psst' at.