21-Beginning of Chapter 7

Three loathed her more than the Alphas that gave him away for food and water.

The bellies of his Omegas—wrecked with scurvy and thin from malnourishment—were always filled with sawdust and stone.

There was a time when the harvest was good, when the fields were flooded with golden bushels of fat, meaty grain, rivers of honey and milk that spilled into coffers of gold. But an acid hailstorm had been the first of the signs, carried in by the confusion of winter and summer. It rained thick globes of heavy ice that killed and destroyed, pulverised food into ruined, poisoned ground.

In its wake was naked, stripped earth.

The country was ill and with the hail came the heat. The sun that followed burned every bit of moisture from what was left of the desolate wasteland, so unforgiving that it scorched all in its path and turned crops into withered dust, water into steam.

What was left of the wells was muddy, soil filled sludge that was thick with disease and ruined from the chemical waste of factories of the past. Crops no longer survived on his lands, topsoil ruined and lacking in nourishment; the earth so dry it created sandstorms that flayed fleshy lungs.

A phlegmy cough, raspy with silicone dust, was a characteristic of all his people.

But what truly ruined them was not the abuse of nature, but the idiocrasy of proud, greedy Alphas. As the men suffered, the women of his country thrived and feasted. They persisted in their overuse in a culture etched with servitude and wealth.

In exchange, Omegas were sacrificed.

They worked like slaves to fuel the Alphas' lives of waste, spreading their legs to feed their families. What they earned was barely enough for one, let alone the children they had to sustain. And yet all was given to the Alphas, who continued to exploit and squander as if all was well in the apocalypse.

Elysian might be a prince of the pack down South, but that didn't mean he lived free from the clutches of poverty and Alpha slavery. He too parted his thighs for the lives of the Omegas, spread his ass for Euodia so that the North would allow safe passage and trade to the South.

Elysian was a martyr, sent to die for his country, and Euodia had used him just as such. When his people had been murdered for their resources, his Omegas raped and killed, he'd cried and begged Euodia to end his hell. But she laughed and spat in his face as his country was burned to the ground.

In a lifetime of abuse, it was only natural that Elysian would be responsible for the death of hundreds and thousands of Alphas. It was only fair for him to prioritise the Omegas over Alphas.

After all, what use was there for abusers, rapists, and criminals?

*

Helios

His return was a celebration that he did not take part in. For within his soul was a fishhook sunk deep into his belly, reeled in, and floundering he was brought towards a figure concealed by the ripples of his illness. Its fingers caressed his cheeks and echoed laughter swept free from its lips. And yet its features were missing, its face a void of light.

Helios did not remember much of his time as a Lonely.

Like a distant dream, it escaped him, swept free with the bubbles of time. But what he could recall was his awakening, his body cocooned in the warmth of furs, silk, and satin. He'd roused, grouchy from sleep, fingers rubbing his eyes as if it were just another day, then growled at his mates to 'stop talking so loudly, because they were all so fucking annoying.'

Solar's lips had found his, the glorious sunny smile of his lover tasting so much sweeter than before. He could remember Rowan's loud laughter, Icarus's gummy smile, the tears in Elysian's eyes and the dimples on Klaus's face.

Zen had been in his arms for hours, trailed kisses down his neck and refused to leave his side. He was spoon fed by Icarus, something that did not happen ever. And there was no haughty reprimanding from Elysian, not even when he poked his sides and made fun of his hair.

It was as if he'd passed, left the mortal realm, never to return. And they'd told him it might as well have been, because Helios had been so close to death his escape from its clutches could not be possible. His funeral had been prepared; his casket was already made despite the vehement protest from his mates.

The kingdom had been ready for him to die.

He didn't believe them at first, not until he laid his eyes on the solid, polished wood engraved with silver and ivory. He'd brushed his fingers across the pillowed inner layer, perfect for him and his wings. Then, had stared at his back, with sun-drenched skin that lit his entire being, at feathers that no longer dripped with blackened cursed blood but were now a fresh snowy shade of purity.

Behind him, Solar had been silent, stared straight into his looks of confusion. But he asked no questions and in exchange, no answers were given. Helios decided Solar thought it best for him to be kept in the dark, that in the future perhaps this knowledge would be his undoing.

But within the deepest recesses of his mind, hanging at the door to his soul like a generous gift of life, was a peach. The juiciest, sweetest thing he'd ever tasted in his life. A taste of spring that quenched all thirst and ended all hunger. It had been divine, ambrosial-like, God-worthy. It had been his only memory of his time in the wastelands.

He asked for it in bed, tucked carefully by Solar within the warmth of down and cashmere, with Elysian curled against his side and Zen at his other. The candlelight had been warm, the sweetness of his Omega mates so overwhelming that it made his head grow fuzzy with love, and within the toasty setting of home, he felt nothing but peace and acceptance.

The situation changed nothing, and the bond between him and his mates was the same, that much he was certain of.

'You gave me a peach, right? In the wastelands,' he'd mumbled through sleepy eyes, swallowed thickly when the words left him. It was a touchy subject that they did not speak of. And weeks into his healing, he'd yet to truly understand what had truly happened. 'It helped?'

'A peach?' Solar's brows had furrowed, something lighting on his face. A queer sense of understanding that Helios did not like. He blinked, expression faltering, a smile stretching into an awkwardness that did not reveal the heart of his lip. 'I did.' He agreed with a slow nod. 'I guess, I did.'

'It was good,' Helios had answered, and suddenly a hunger stretched sharp across his belly. But it wasn't the same as the feelings he'd experienced as a monster. It was a thirst that came from knowledge, a thirst for a memory. It was warmth that fizzed in his chest and then begged for something more. 'It was so good,' he'd licked his lips, suddenly parched, 'can I have it again?'