POV - Luahn
No respondí.
No por orgullo, ni siquiera por desafío.
Sino por miedo.
No a ellos.
A lo que podría desatarse si abría la boca.
Porque su pregunta no era solo una burla. No era solo un insulto disfrazado de curiosidad. Era una sonda, una trampa, una chispa arrojada a un campo lleno de cosas que prefería mantener enterradas.
"¿Qué hace un humano con los perros de Sephros?"
Esa frase. Ese veneno disfrazado.
No era una simple acusación, era un dedo que señalaba el lugar que más dolía.
Hacia el rincón oscuro que ni siquiera yo me atrevía a explorar por completo.
Hacia ella.
Mi madre.
No podía hablar de ella, no allí, no delante de ellos.
Después de todo, ella no era como los demás en el clan.
No había nacido en la ciudadela sagrada de Sephros, ni tenía sangre de lobo.
Había venido de fuera.
Estaba sola, herida y sin recuerdos.
Nadie supo nunca qué pasó antes de su llegada. Y aunque la mayoría se acercó a ella, muchos más la miraron con sospecha.
Con cierto miedo.
Con la misma desconfianza que ahora ardía en los ojos de estos hombres.
Si hablaba, si les daba alguna información que los llevara a ella, si siquiera sospechaban que algo en mí podría ser útil por quién es ella...
No.
No.
Preferiría sangrar, preferiría que me golpearan hasta hacerme papilla.
Pero no iba a arrastrarla a esto.
El silencio fue mi única respuesta.
Se dieron cuenta.
El hombre frente a mí, el de la cicatriz y la mirada podrida en sus ojos, frunció los labios en una mueca amarga.
No le gustó mi decisión, no le gustó que no me quebrara a la primera.
"¿Te han tragado la lengua, hijo de puta?", murmuró entre dientes, y sin previo aviso, me agarró del pelo.
Su mano me apretó con una fuerza brutal y empezó a sacudirme la cabeza de un lado a otro, con una violencia seca y sucia, como quien sacude una piedra para ver si se rompe.
Me retorcí, gruñí por lo bajo, pero no hablé.
No dije ni una sola palabra.
La nuca me golpeaba contra la pared de piedra con cada sacudida. Los ojos me ardían, el cuero cabelludo me picaba, sentía cómo se me crujían las vértebras... y aun así me aferraba al silencio como a una cuerda.
"¡¿Quieres hacerte la dura, eh?!", espetó, y entonces vi su puño cubierto de energía.
Era yin.
Un aura oscura y azulada que se deslizó por su antebrazo como una serpiente mojada, envolviendo su puño en una especie de cristal helado.
No era refinada, mucho menos técnica.
Era salvaje.
Y fue directa a mi cara.
El golpe fue como un trueno.
Sentí el impacto antes de poder procesar el dolor. La cabeza me dio vueltas violentamente hacia un lado, la mejilla me ardía y algo caliente me corría por la nariz.
Sangre.
Vi todo borroso por un instante.
El mundo me daba vueltas.
Y entonces lo oí reír.
"Míralo...", dijo con una risa ronca.
"¡El muy cabrón aguantó! Ni un grito, ni un gemido, ni una maldita palabra. Te daría una medalla si no me dieras tantas ganas de partirte la cabeza".
Me agarró la barbilla con fuerza, obligándome a mirarlo. Tenía la cara tan cerca que podía oler su aliento, a alcohol rancio y carne ahumada.
"¿Lo has montado todo?", continuó.
"Con ese maldito hielo tuyo. No mataste a ninguno de mis hombres... pero dejaste a varios llorando como niñas. Uno perdió la mano. Otro la pierna. Dos más siguen convulsionando. ¿Eso es lo que te enseñan en tu clan de bestias, eh? ¿A ser asesinos con cara de mártires?"
Su rabia crecía con cada palabra.
Y su puño volvió a alzarse.
El siguiente golpe me dio en el estómago.
Me quedé sin aire.
Me doblé por la mitad, jadeando, las cadenas tintineando con el movimiento.
Antes de que pudiera recuperar el aliento, llegó el tercer golpe.
Y luego el cuarto.
Y yo... no pude soportarlo más.
Pero no iba a hablar.
Entonces oí el sonido.
Metal.
Las cadenas de otra persona.
Levanté la vista ligeramente.
Vi a Inaé.
Estaba forcejeando.
Como un animal salvaje, como una madre herida.
Temblaba por todo el cuerpo, con los dientes apretados, los ojos llenos de rabia.
No pude soportarlo.
No podía seguir viéndolos golpearme.
Vi que sus muñecas empezaban a sangrar por la fricción. Cómo se doblaba, se retorcía y se levantaba en un intento desesperado por arrancar las cadenas con fuerza bruta.
Y entonces la vio.
El bastardo que me estaba golpeando se giró, con una pausa repentina.
Y sonrió.
Una sonrisa que no era humana.
Una hilera torcida de dientes rotos y ojos iluminados con una malicia que heló la sangre de todos los presentes.
"Oh... ¿qué es esto?", dijo con voz ronca.
"¿La gran zorra quiere proteger al cachorro?".
Los demás mercenarios rieron. Uno silbó levemente, otro murmuró algo que no pude oír, y el tercero dijo:
"Quietos, porque si siguen así, me van a dar ideas. Ideas muy desagradables... para ustedes".
Inaé hizo oídos sordos. Su mirada era puro fuego.
"Tch..." The man in front of me dropped his jaw, licking his lips in disgust.
"I love it when they play the brave one."
And I, still panting, still with blood on my lips and heat on my face, felt something inside me begin to tear.
It wasn't anger.
It was something else.
Something deeper.
Something I no longer knew how to contain.
*
The air changed.
Not in an obvious way. Not with a sound or a draft. It was more subtle. More raw.
As if something inside the cave had suddenly rotted. As if the stone itself knew what was going to happen and refused to look.
A chill ran down my neck, slow and sticky.
I felt it before I saw it.
And I knew I wasn't the only one.
Because the instructor also stopped.
Inaé, who seconds before had been writhing in fury, froze completely. Her eyes widened, not out of anger this time, but out of something else. Something you only feel once, and hopefully never again: that dark intuition that runs through your body before the nightmare begins.
The looks changed.
The men stopped mocking me.
Now, their eyes were on her.
And then one of them spoke.
"Shit... this bitch is well built, huh?"
His tone left no doubt; it was not a casual comment.
It was a statement. A threat disguised as a compliment.
"I always wanted to know if the Wolf Clan really howl when you give it to them hard," said another, letting out a laugh that sounded hollow, rotten, like a corpse laughing.
"I've never fucked one of these," added a third, rubbing his neck.
"They say they're strong... that they bite you if you make them come."
The laughter exploded like fireworks of disease.
Crude.
Inhuman.
Inaé remained motionless, but her lips trembled.
And I...
I felt something in my stomach split in two.
One of them approached. The dirtiest of them all. A man with a greasy beard, eyes injected with vice, and a smile so crooked it looked like a distorted reflection.
He stopped in front of her.
"We're going to have some fun, aren't we, beauty? Since your little student doesn't want to talk, you'll have to entertain us in another way," he said, taking her face in his gloved, filthy hand and squeezing her cheeks.
Inaé spat in his eyes.
Or tried to.
But the gag only allowed her to spit out thick saliva that barely fell down her side.
"Oh, really?" he laughed. "You like rough games, then."
And without warning, with a mechanical movement, he tore the top of her uniform.
The sound of the fabric tearing was as brutal as a gunshot.
Her breasts were exposed to the light of the torches, and the whole group roared with excitement.
"What a piece of meat!" shouted one.
"Move that shit, I want to see her properly!" added another.
"Look at her trembling. She's playing tough, but she'll be begging for one soon," spat another, licking his lips.
Inaé was trembling, not from cold or anger.
From terror.
The guy grabbed her by the neck. He didn't squeeze... yet. But his fingers were ready.
"Get ready, guys. We're going to take turns with this bitch until she loses her voice," said the man, as he began to pull her toward another section of the cave.
That's when the leader spoke.
The same one who had hit me, the one who seemed to be in charge out of respect or fear.
"Enough. Take her to the other chamber. I don't want our merchandise to be damaged in front of the others. The middleman will be here soon. Let him see that we have discipline."
Inaé struggled desperately. She tried to kick, twist, and shoulder him, but it was useless. Her chains prevented her from doing anything. She only managed to make noise. She only made them laugh more.
"Careful! This bitch bites!" one of them sneered as he slapped her on the back.
I couldn't watch anymore.
I couldn't keep watching this.
My wrists burned from the friction of the chains, my arms shook as if moved by fury alone, without a brain.
I pulled.
And pulled.
And I kept pulling even though my flesh was tearing, even though the links were cutting into my skin.
I screamed.
Or I wanted to.
My jaw was shaking.
The world was spinning.
Even though none of this was my fault, they didn't know I existed, they came for our clan, "someone wants to use us," I thought with a mixture of rage and horror.
But even so... I couldn't help feeling it.
As if their pain were my punishment.
As if everything that was happening now were being built on my broken back.
And then... came the blow.
The strongest of all.
I didn't see it coming.
I just felt the explosion.
The impact on my temple.
The white pain.
And then... nothing.
I fell to the ground like a doll.
Half unconscious.
Half awake.
The light from the torches became blurry, liquid. The voices mingled as if they were underwater.
But amid all that noise, I heard something.
A dull sound.
Tearful.
It was her.
Noeli.
I felt her approaching.
Crawling as best she could.
Her little body moving forward over the wet rock, as if she didn't care about her injuries, as if she needed to be close, as if she needed me alive.
I heard her try to say my name.
Over and over again.
But the gag prevented her from pronouncing it; only her sobs could be heard. Her broken sighs, her muffled cries.
And even though I couldn't move...
Even though I could barely open one eye...
I wished with all my remaining strength that she could hear me.
"I'm here.
I haven't left.
I'm not going to leave you alone.'
*
POV - Noeli
When I closed my eyes, I tried to remember something that didn't hurt.
I tried to go back to my first day at the Academy, when my mother combed my hair with patience and pride, tying my braid with a ribbon that I still have. When my father told me that wolves don't always growl, that sometimes they protect with a glance, and that being strong wasn't about fighting well... but knowing why you fight.
It was a bright morning, the sky was clear, and I was afraid, but I also had a warm knot in my chest. I wanted to become a warrior. I wanted to be like her.
Emilia.
I always admired her.
Even before I entered the Academy. Ever since I heard her name in the central square, ever since I saw how people moved aside when they saw her pass by, not out of fear, but out of respect. They say she shone when she fought.
That yang energy seemed to envelop her like armor of fire, that she was brave, determined, and smiled when she helped her own. She wasn't perfect, of course; she had a reputation for being stubborn, for saying what she thought without filters. For being tough.
But I... I only saw strength. And light.
And that's why, when I joined, I wanted to be like her.
That's where I met Lecia.
My best friend.
So restless, so lively, as quick with her words as she was with her feet. We entered on the same day. We slept in neighboring bunk beds, laughed during training, stole bread rolls from the kitchen on full moon nights.
She always said she was going to be the fastest warrior in all of Sephros, and I believed her. She told me I would be the noblest. And I just laughed, because I didn't feel special at all.
Until I met him.
Luahn.
Of course I already knew who he was. We all did. He was the "human," the "odd one out," the one who was always with Emilia. Rumors flew like thistle seeds: that he had no control, that he was dangerous, that he was weak, that he was an aberration. But it was also said that he was kind, that he took care of the little ones, that he trained without complaining, and that he never got into trouble, even when provoked.
I saw him from a distance, sometimes with Emilia, sometimes alone, sometimes laughing with the younger children.
And then, that day, the day of the medicinal plants...
We teamed up.
I didn't ask for it. Neither did he, it just happened.
And it was... nice.
We walked through the forest. We talked.
We laughed when Lecia tripped over a root and pretended it was part of the plan.
Luahn asked me if I liked open fields or caves, and I don't remember what I answered, because his voice sounded calm, and that was enough.
For the first time, I felt that I wasn't with someone I should fear or admire... but with someone who listened to me, who was present.
And then...
Everything broke.
The ambush.
The fire.
The screams.
The captors.
Luahn protected us.
I saw it.
With his ice, with his body, with his will.
But it was too much.
And he went out.
And now... now I'm here.
In this dark place.
With this gag.
With these chains.
With this fear that envelops me like a snake.
I woke up surrounded by stone, by familiar faces, but all distorted by terror. I woke up crying without knowing why... until I saw him.
Him.
Luahn.
At my side.
Breathing.
Bleeding.
But alive.
And without thinking, without knowing how, my body crawled toward him.
As if I were a little girl seeking refuge in the only blanket that still had warmth.
As if his mere presence could break the darkness.
I curled up against his chest without asking permission.
And he... he leaned toward me too.
We found each other.
And for a moment... I felt like I could hold on.
But then...
The real nightmare began.
I saw them beat him.
I saw them take him as if he were nothing.
And I couldn't scream.
I couldn't do anything.
My tears fell with painful persistence, not like violent, desperate crying, but like a quiet, constant rain, the kind that soaks silently without asking permission, sliding down my cheeks as I felt my heart pounding in my chest with such force that it hurt, as if each beat were a reminder that I was alive in the midst of this nightmare, as if my own body didn't know whether to resist or give up once and for all.
I wanted to do something, anything, to get up, to scream, to stand between them and him, to stop those blows that fell again and again on the only one who had protected us, on the only one who had made me feel safe since I woke up, but my body wouldn't obey me, my throat was trapped behind the gag, and my hands, tied like broken wings, could only tremble as I watched in complete horror as the violence turned into a spectacle.
And then, I saw him fall.
Not like someone who stumbles.
He fell like a wounded tree in the middle of the forest: slow, heavy, inevitable.
The final blow left him motionless on the stone, his breathing barely visible, his body hunched over as if the pain had emptied him inside, and his face, that face that was still trying to remain firm while they beat him, suddenly went blank, leaving me frozen, paralyzed, my mind blank and my heart collapsing in my chest.
At that moment, I knew that something inside me had also broken.
And then she came.
Inaé.
Our instructor.
The woman who guided us firmly but with a voice that knew when to soften, the same woman who corrected us patiently, who carried the responsibility for all of us on her shoulders.
I saw how her chains sounded different.
How her gaze lit up, no longer with rage, but with panic.
I saw the terror in her eyes when those men, those monsters disguised as humans, began to talk about her as if she were an object, a thing they could use, tear apart, display, destroy.
I heard their disgusting laughter.
I felt the revulsion in every word they said.
And when they tore her clothes, when her body was exposed to those rotten eyes, I felt the air leave my chest as if an invisible hand had suddenly strangled me.
I wanted to scream her name.
I tried with all my strength, with all my body.
But the gag only let out a muffled, broken sound, a moan that was stifled before it was born, trapped in my throat, buried in my chest.
I screamed with my eyes.
I screamed with every muscle that twisted.
With every tear that kept falling like a promise of despair.
But no one heard me.
Not even those around me.
Because we were all trapped.
Each in our own hell.
And she... she was taken away.
By force.
Amid laughter.
Amid words that should never be said.
And I... I could only cry.
Cry for her.
For Luahn.
For me.
For everyone.
And when the last of those men walked away with his hyena smile, when the torches stopped moving with the passing of their bodies and the echo of their voices was lost in the stone walls, only silence remained.
A silence so thick it hurt.
And in that silence... he was still there.
Lying there.
Motionless.
Wounded.
My only refuge in the midst of collapse.
Then my body began to move again, slowly, as if every inch I dragged myself forward was an act of resistance, a desperate attempt to put back together the pieces that fear had shattered.
I approached him.
Crawling.
Blinded by the tears I could no longer hold back, by the trembling that clouded my vision and tore at my muscles, by the anguish that pounded in my temples like a war drum.
I wanted to touch him.
To know he was still breathing.
To feel that I was not alone.
To see that he was still there.
"Luahn... please... wake up..."
I couldn't say it.
But I thought it so hard that I felt the thought could scream for me.
My chest burned.
Every breath was a struggle.
The chains cut into my wrists, the soaked gag suffocated me.
But I didn't stop.
Not for the pain.
Not for the cold.
Not for the darkness.
Because if I lost him...
If he left too...
Then there would be nothing left.
Nothing to hold on to.
Nothing to give me strength.
Nothing to keep me going.
And in that moment, crawling on the ground, crying silently, my heart broken and my body numb with fear, I knew that he was all I had left.