Prologue Till Death Do Us Apart

AGGHHH!

Cyrus slashed the man's chest with his claws, his blood splattering on the wooden floors and Cyrus' face in angry patterns. He moved quickly, snapping the man's neck.

Cyrus gasps and kneels in pain, bracing himself on the floor while clutching his right side. He looks down, noticing the worrying amount of blood seeping through his dark purple robes. His muscles twinge at the excursion from moving, and he hisses at the sharp pain on his shoulder. Glancing back, he sees a small dagger sticking out.

A loud gasp rings out behind him, " Oh no! My lord!" A young man, still in his late teens, appears in Cyrus' blurry vision, startling Cyrus badly enough to almost claw his face off. 

Thankfully, the boy moved out the way, his face horrified, his brows quickly wrinkled in worry as he visually categorized the wounds bleeding from his lord's body. " My lord! It's me, Feren! Please calm down!" Feren yells, cautiously keeping his hands up in the universal sign of being unarmed.

"Where's my son!!??" He growls angrily. Cyrus can hear his own heartbeat with how hard his breathing is. Why is Feren here without his son?! There could still be assassins here! His son should not be alone right now!

Before Cyrus can start bolting out of the room, Feren jumps in front of him. "No, my lord, he is safe. I left him with Olga, y'know she can protect him. I came here for you!" 

"You shouldn't have, you idiot! Ugh, let's go, I finished with the last one after me." Cyrus stands up, stumbling a bit. He refuses Feren's help. He knows the boy must be shaken and scared even if he is putting up a brave front. 

Cyrus' mind is rapidly going into overdrive. He's covered in blood from head to toes,his  black hair matted in dried blood. His tail and long ears, which are usually hidden away from public view with a spell, are visible, heightening his hearing and sharpening instincts for potential danger. Despite killing the assassins after him and his son this late in the night, and his concerning critical condition, his body was still working-albeit slowly, but efficiently. He'll rest when his son is in his arms safe and unharmed.

Feren was talking to him, muttering about his wounds and how Olga-Feren's older sister and Cyrus' only servant apart from Feren- is going to have a heart attack due to his wounds. Which were healing far too slowly for Cyrus' tastes. However, Cyrus doesn't care at the moment. Nothing else matters except his son.

"-I just don't understand why those guards at the main house haven't arrived yet!? We may be living a bit further from the main estate, but that doesn't mean they should take their time!" Feren's hands moved expressively, most likely due to his anxiousness taking over as they walked outside and towards the home housing Cyrus and his son with Olga. 

When they arrived at the house, it only took a few seconds for a woman holding a child to burst from the building. The child wiggled from Olga's embrace. The moment his feet  touched the ground, the five year old bolted towards Cyrus. 

"Baba!" 

Cyrus gritted his teeth at the impact of his clingy son colliding to his thighs, causing his wounds to ache and burn, but he didn't show it past a loud hiss. He is thankful for wearing dark clothes that conceal the red stains covering his torso and back.  He ignored the pain, especially the burning one on his shoulder, and bent down to one knee, checking his son for any injuries. Though he trusted Olga with his child safety, he has to see for himself that there is nothing wrong. 

His son's gray eyes-similar to his own stare at him, shiny and red around the corners from crying. When the light of the moon hits his son's eyes, they shine red like little rubys, indicating the child's paternal genes and none of the werewolf characteristics that should've shown from birth.

"Baba-" Leo sniffs loudly, his tiny hands tightly grasping onto his sleeves as if he'll disappear the moment he lets go. "Why's there so much blood? I don't like it." Cyrus gently shushes him, hands  clasped onto his son's thin shoulder wishing he could just whisk them both away to his family home and not come back, unfortunately that's all just wistful thinking and unlogical. If those assassins can enter the Strauss Estate, then his family home is no better. 

He comforts his child by drying his tears with his slightly cleaned hands, kissing his temple, and keeping the young sobbing boy close enough in his embrace, but not enough to physically touch.

He faintly hears Olga gasp behind him, distantly yelling something along the lines of "corrosive" and "not knowing how to heal it", but none of it doesn't matter, his child is with him, and all assassins are dead. His son moves away to look at the distance to his right.

"-I'll call the healer-Oh! The guards, I see them! My lord, help is here!" Feren yelled, Cyrus did not take his eyes from his distracted son, much less barely understood a word his servant said but nodded anyways. Feren face changes quickly to a confused frown. " Wait, is that- the second lord-" 

The hair behind Cyrus' neck stood on end, his sharp ears twitching behind him, catching the low crackle of an arrow being pulled back, ready to shoot-

He moved, pulling Leo forcefully towards his chest just at the last second as he felt blooming pain spread through his chest. The world seemed to dulled down, the distressed shouting of his loved ones becoming distant and clouded as though he was submerged underwater. He slowly looks down-

Cyrus' eyes widened, pupils shrinking in horrified shock, the arrow pierced his chest from the back to the front, the sharp point and part of the shaft coated deep red in his own blood, just mere inches from Leo's widened eyes.

The world turned on its axis, and before he could even grunt his body was already on the ground, this time unable to hide the blood seeping from his wounds, eyes blurring and  darkness creeping from the edges of his sight.

His heart ached, and it was hard to breath the blurry sight of his son crying and shouting his name in pure desperation and anguish hurt him more than any wound, regretfully Cyrus'  arms were too tired to comfort him.

 "...I'm sorry, Leo, baba..has to go ….Please.. live." He felt tears stream down his face, whether it was his own or his son he didn't know.

Just before darkness fully enveloped his sight, he saw a tall familiar silhouette running towards them.

He inhaled and sighed, breathing his last breath before finally submitting to the cold embrace of death