Xenoblade Chronicles Cross Novels & Stories

It's leaves are a vibrant red and catch the fading light beautifully. My mate wipes at some tears on her cheeks, then leans down to place a bouquet of wildflowers at the base of the tree. Celeste places a token of her own, a sealed photograph of her parents. I recognize the photo as one I saw on the walls of the Cross house ten years ago. A wedding photo of the happy couple, though this one is not splattered in blood. I have no idea where the young she-wolf got a copy of it from. Both sisters kneel on the dirt besides this shrine made to their parents. I can smell the salt of their tears, and my mate pulls her sister in close for an embrace.

He tried to touch the flower but recoiled as his fingers burned on contact. “Never,” he winced. “That's why we couldn't smell the blood. The mistletoe was blocking the scent.” “She got the scent,” Cameron pointed out. “She touched it. I remember stories my dad told me about his grandma’s brother who died from inhaling it. Mistletoe isn't as dangerous as wolfsbane, but it will do damage.” “She just touched a whole bunch of it,” Franklin crouched. “You know what this means, Tristan. If she can touch it, she isn't one of us.”

She sliced down her own palm and pressed our bloody wounds together. Lilac murmured something about this being wholly unsanitary. I never got the chance to voice my agreement. “I, Alpha Lyra Huxley, relinquish my title. I pass it, along with my lands and people, on to you, Alpha Nox Griffin and Luna Lilac Einar. May my people become yours. May they find peace and prosperity under your rule.” A rush of awareness filled my mind, illuminating the voices of hundreds of thousands. Emotions pelted me in waves. Rather than fight them, I let their waters wash over me. I embraced each one and could feel it through the bond as Lilac did the same.

She crossed to the far wall, fingers brushing over a row of cracked flowerpots. "You're late," she said softly. "You're early," Xavier replied from the doorway, stepping in like a ghost. His hair was damp, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and his hands held something wrapped in cloth. Blythe turned, eyes catching the glint of silver in the fading light. "What is that?" Xavier stepped forward and unwrapped it gently—a single wildflower. Pale blue petals like porcelain, trembling even in the still air. "It only grows on the cliffs near the eastern ridge," he said, voice low. "Almost impossible to reach. Took a broken nail and a bruised rib, but... here."

She shook her head in response to Blade’s questioning stare and tightened her lips to show how much she disapproved of it. I was left confused as to why Blade was requiring the old lady’s permission to reveal whatever was bothering him to me. I placed my other hand on our intertwined hands. “Please tell me, I am tired of being left in the dark. You just asked me to trust you and I do, why can’t you trust me?” His eyes met mine again and he leaned down to kiss my palm. “I trust you.” “Then tell me.” The old lady was seething inwards but Blade ignored her. “I have a condition.” He began. “I… I am somehow cursed.”