Chapter 5

—LYSANDRA—

—

With my bags in my grasp. I look at the pack house one last time as the night draws nearer before taking a turn and finally leaving. This wretched house will never be missed.

I should probably just set the pack house on fire, maybe that way I’ll do them a favor of even becoming families in their afterlife. I glare at the mansion for a while, thousands of memories flooding into my mental screen until I shake my head and make my move.

As I wander more into the night, I decide to visit Dr. Lyeon and thank him.

Even if everyone does. He doesn’t deserve to be left in the dark about me leaving.

I knock on the door of his small wooden infirmary where I know he spends most of his nights sleeping on piles of research papers.

It takes three good knocks before I hear the door rattle open to reveal him, looking as sleepy as ever.

He studies me for a moment before tilting his head and letting me inside.

“You’re finally leaving him,” is all he says, shocking me as if we’ve both planned my departure when he’s only just learning of it.

I nod, wiping my tears.

“Do not cry,” he smiles gently. “You’re doing the right thing and I’ll do everything to support you,”

His words make me burst into tears. I put down my bags and let myself wail.

Lyeon lets me, gently patting my back as I crouch beside his desk. My body trembles as I sob until I finally get a hold of myself.

“You need to leave before the night grows older,” he says, his voice weary and desperate for sleep.

I nod.

He takes my hand, pulling a pouch of coins and a bundle of supplies from his pocket and placing them into my hands as though we planned this months ago.

“Dr. Lyeon, as much as I appreciate you, this is way too mu—”

“Don’t reject them, please,” he cuts me off. “It’s my gift. I know you have more than that, but I’m worried because an ill woman like you shouldn’t be traveling at night.”

Among the supplies is an old map that he opens for me.

“Now, Lysandra. Listen carefully. I want you to go to the Ironcrest Pack.”

I look at him.

“Why?” I whisper.

“They’re the largest and strongest pack in the north. And I believe they have the best medicines in their custody. They take in weak, homeless, and displaced women and children. They don’t leave people like you to rot.”

People like me…

“I am not displaced,” I say automatically.

He doesn’t argue. He simply nods, filling me with relief.

I sit on the edge of the bed while he gathers what little he thinks I should take. Lyeon has been kind to me until the very end. I owe him my life.

He presses bread and dried meat into my hand before I can refuse.

“You’ll need it,” he says.

I leave the infirmary and begin my journey. The road out of the territory stretches farther than it should. Each step feels like it costs something I no longer have. My body is weak, like it’s slowly forgetting how to exist properly.

But I keep walking anyway.

Because stopping feels worse, there is nothing behind me worth turning around for.

Two Days blur together after that.

I don’t remember how I’ve done this journey for two days but the fact that I don’t remember each day makes the horrible pain I face after each day less painful. I sleep under trees when I can’t keep my eyes open. I wake up cold, aching, and hungry. I eat when I remember. I don’t always remember.

Death for some reason feels so close it’s scary. Sometimes overwhelmed, I burst out crying randomly.

Sometimes Henry’s voice comes back without warning.

I hope Mom dies soon’ and it strikes me in the bones.

By the time I start to reach upshore north, the Ironcrest borders, my body feels like it is no longer obeying me at all.

My legs are weak and every step I take makes my body tremble but I don’t want to give up at all because about a mile away I can see their tall flags riding in the wind and high walls. I can see multiple people like me hovering around their border.

Hope fills me in and I drag my dying legs on the soil, making sure I get there.

My fingers are numb and I can barely feel my flesh.

I finally get to the border filled with people, especially women, getting checked in before they can get a pass.

Guards stand spaced along the border. Watchful and Unmoving.

I slow down without meaning to.

My knees start to tremble before I even realize I’ve reached my limit.

“No,” I whisper, but it doesn’t change anything.

My legs give out.

I hit the ground hard, dust rising around me. My hands scrape against stone and dirt as I try to push myself up, but my arms don’t listen properly. Everything feels too far away, like my body is already leaving before I am ready.

The pouch slips from my grip with my coins slipping out.

I try to breathe deeper but I can’t.

The sky above me wavers, too bright, too distant.

But then I hear a faint footstep approach.

It’s heavy, commanding, like someone who knows I shouldn’t be here and I’m about to get prosecuted.

I try to lift my head but I can’t.

A shadow falls over me and I feel the person kneeling. My vision starts to blur, but I still see enough to know he is close now. Close enough that the air changes around him.

He studies me for a long moment without speaking.

Then his voice breaks through the haze.

“It’s you…” He says as everything starts to go blank for me.

“My dear sister…”