Chapter 338: _He’ll Come Back To My Head
Elian’s POV
*****
The moment the sky craft touched down on the refugee camp grounds, his eyes dimmed. Smoke and the familiar scent of blood clung to the night air.
People screamed, running anywhere they could for safety. Guards yelled frantic orders, most of them falling on deaf ears. The lights from spells and laser guns sparked erratically throughout the campgrounds.
Elian’s fingers tightened around the railing of the craft ramp. "Gods below..." his eyes scanned through the smoke. All of a sudden, he felt something tug at his senses.
Okay, not exactly a ’tug’. More like a flicker, a signal of its existence. A presence he got the urge to search for. So when his eyes locked with those of a man standing close to a tent far ahead... he blinked with a frown.
The man’s gaze met his as well, something he couldn’t name glinting in his eyes. Dull yellow blazer. Golden brown skin. There wasn’t anything peculiar about this person.
Yet... he felt so familiar...
He took a couple more steps down the ramp—and that’s when the man’s eyes fluttered shut. He fell flat to the ground, snapping Elian back to the chaos around him.
"Elian?!" Lucian tapped his shoulder from behind, his hand slipping to his waist. "Come on."
The Alpha King guided him down the steps, holding him close as if afraid a stray spell would hit him. As if Elian couldn’t handle it himself if that happens.
’Girl, you know the drill already.’ he reached out to the system the second he and Lucian touched down on the grass.
[On it.]
[Scans suggest the assailants are all witches. Ascendant cored.]
’How many?’
[Fifteen.]
His gaze narrowed, attention trailing back to the direction of the man who felt so ’familiar’. The running figures and smoke made it hard to spot him.
But soon he did.
He was still on the floor, seemingly unconscious. Then—he jolted, lifting himself off the ground until he was sitting. That familiar light was gone now, replaced by fear and a lot of confusion.
Elian’s fingers slipped away from Lucian’s. "I have to check something out."
Lucian caught his hand again. "It’s not safe yet. Wait for the guards to—"
"I can protect myself, Lucian," Elian moved away, sprinting past the screaming civilians and the injured struggling on the floor.
He nearly stopped for a few who seemed badly hurt. But he couldn’t. Not until he figured out why he got that feeling from that man earlier.
"Stop him!" A soldier shouted beside him, making him snap his neck there—
—Just in time to witness a male witch using fire magic to burn down tents, simultaneously holding back two Lunarian soldiers with an energy blast.
Elian’s eyes glowed with a faint light.
A spell was activated, conjuring vines that wrapped around the witch’s ankles, creeping higher to his thighs within a couple of seconds.
[Look at you showing off.]
He tore his gaze away from there completely, fortunately avoiding a soldier he almost bumped into. Once he got to the man in the yellow blazer, he lowered himself to him.
"Hey," he whispered, stretching a hand cautiously to him. "Are you okay?"
The man just sat there, lips trembling as he peered into Elian’s eyes. As if trying to ground himself. Make sense of everything happening.
Elian’s jaw ticked. "Why don’t you..." He grabbed his hand, attempting to help him up. That’s when he felt it. Not the same feeling of familiarity as earlier.
No. This was different.
A trace. Residual magic left behind. Magic that didn’t belong to the man.
He withdrew his hand as if he had touched hot iron, squinting at the man. "... What happened to you...?"
The chaos, yelling and explosions around them died down, replaced by his pounding heart. Anxiety and adrenaline took over, making him shove the man on his shoulders.
"Hey? Hey, listen to me." He inched closer, voice lowering. "Something happened to you. And I need you to think deeply... and tell me what. Can you do that?"
Sadly, he didn’t get a response.
What he got instead were tears trickling down the man’s cheeks. He shuddered, shaking his head as he placed his hands on it.
"No—he... he’ll come back." He stuttered.
Elian frowned. "He? Who are you—?"
"He’ll come back to my head." His eyes widened with urgency as he caught Elian by his elbows. The latter stiffened, heart in his throat while the man continued. "Don’t let him come back. P–Please!"
Terror gripped Elian to the spot so much that he couldn’t even compose himself enough to move.
"That’s enough," two hands yanked him out of the man’s grip from behind just then, followed by the strong scent of Lucian’s cologne.
He cut his eyes to the Alpha king’s face as he led him away. "Wait—Lucian, he was trying to say something," he looked back, watching how a few soldiers picked the man off the ground and whisked him away.
It was then that he realised the odd silence around them.
The explosions and fighting had ceased, and the culprits were probably all apprehended or brought down. Pained moans and cries for help resounded from every corner.
Elian tapped Lucian’s shoulder. "Did you get to talk to the soldiers? What happened here?"
Lucian finally stopped in front of a random tent, brushing back strands of his black hair. "Arcadian spies. Fifteen. Each of them was skilled in magic and shouting things that didn’t make sense."
After adjusting his outfit, Elian blurted. "Things like what?"
The Alpha king scoured the camp, biting his bottom lip with frustration. "Things that make me think this wasn’t just a planned attack," he paused, head inclining to Elian. "The High Matron is behind this."
Chills ran through Elian’s blood. "What?"
"She definitely sent them." Lucian nodded with certainty. "To get rid of the refugees. The people threatening to ’taint’ her image to the rest of the continent."
The tightness in Lucian’s words made Elian feel uneasy. "Lucian, chill. We aren’t sure of that yet. Why would Amara make such a reckless move—"
"Because she doesn’t care anymore." Lucian snapped. "She’s not playing by the rules. She never has for the gods’ sake!" His silver eyes hardened. "She’s underestimating me. And this is the peak of what my patience can take."
Before Elian could say something else, Lucian stormed away from him, heading for a Lunarian soldier who seemed like one of the captains.
’Something is wrong here.’ Elian inhaled. ’The attack is too... convenient. It seems planned but at the same time it’s way too reckless.’
[You suspect some kind of foul play?]
He nodded, head pivoting to the tent that the male witch had been in moments ago. He was no longer there, of course, but his words still stuck.
"He’ll come back to my head..." Elian repeated it, his neck arching until he stared at the cloud-covered night sky. "Who was he talking about?"
His thoughts didn’t get the chance to go far.
[REMINDER: Host still has approximately 27 days to get pregnant with one of his mates.]
Elian clicked his tongue. ’Fuck you and your horrible timing...’
[Just keeping you on your toes, fruitcake. Although—I guess this latest conundrum is already doing a great job with that...]