Noctisardor Bypass kneel

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, assaulting his ears each time she opened her mouth; had she always sounded like that, he wondered? It did not matter, none of this mattered—she was nothing more than a stranger to him now, whatever life they’d once shared gone and impossible to reclaim. Even the word husband sounded sour and foreign coming from her mouth, further confirming that there was nothing left between them. He did not feel drawn to her, her reckless and crude antics that he once found endearing now but mere hindrances on his livelihood; he could not imagine a life with her any longer, for all he saw when he thought about what could have been was his own, lifeless body sprawled out on the forest floor. She was a beast—a merciless monster that could be satisfied by none, either in body or spirit. And so at her his lips upturned, incisors glistening with soundless threats.

“Husband?” his voice rose, the word like venom on his tongue. “I am not your husband, Nemesis. In fact, I never was—we were living in a delusion, which you shattered.” He never loved her, for how could he offer his affections to a heartless creature? When he found there was nothing to be returned to him, no feelings reciprocated, he did what any wise man would do: he left her. Their union ended just as quickly as it’d begun, the false image that they’d spent countless nights creating shredded and left in utter ruin—and it hadn’t hurt him at all. “Damien was always destined to rule over the woods, whereas you were just a snake that somehow slithered your way into the throne,” he growled, face warped and expression twisted into something unrecognisable. Perhaps he was no longer Kove, perhaps he was someone else—or maybe his patience had finally run out after all these years, and all that remained was the travel-worn phantom of rage.

The words continued to fall from her mouth, but he found truth within none of them. She had been all those things, though it was only ever by title—not once had any of those brands delved any deeper than the surface of her flesh, incapable of reaching out to a heart that was not there. “You were nothing to me. Do not stand there and pretend as if you were anything more than a treacherous bitch.”—the insult carved its way down his tongue, leaving a searing pain in its wake—“You wore those titles but they never meant anything to you—neither I nor even our children were ever anything more to you than pawns to help you climb through the hierarchy.” He was truly ashamed of her. Ashamed that he’d allowed her to get so close to him, that he’d allowed for her to carry and bring into the world children that were never meant to be loved, only used as weapons. They should never have been born, not from Nemesis, and not into a life of servitude; it was unfair to them and, even to this day, he regretted having allowed them to live.

A low, humourless chuckle rose from his throat when she accused him of jealousy—did she, even now, still not know the truth? “I was never jealous of you, Nemesis. How could anyone be jealous of such a lonely and secluded creature?” It was almost funny to think that she believed his words to stem from such a pathetic emotion. “I pitied you, my dear wife. I have always pitied you—the woman who is always alone, who could receive love not even from the children she once carried in her womb. What a sad life to have.” Never had he loved her, not like he loved Scarlett. He had given her as much affection as he could when it counted for something, but their time together was short-lived and the emotions absent from their coupling.

More lies spilled from her mouth, false claims that had his expression hardening and body growing stiff. “You cannot fix something when the pieces were tossed away so long ago,” he stated lowly, gaze narrowing into a glare as she approached. And whilst he did not respond to her question, his ears did perk at the sound of her own answer—lies. “You never took the time to learn anything about me,” he began, the sentence drawn out as he slowly made his way through the words. “You never stopped to consider what I might know, how it was my usefulness that granted me access to the woods and not just history alone.” He tilted his chin downwards, bringing his muzzle next to her ear; he let his breath fan out over the air before saying, “Voices change when the speaker lies.” Immediately after he growled at her, the sound guttural and nearly everlasting: “Get away from me.”

There was no pause between the command and the snapping of his teeth, further warning the woman away from him. He did not want her near him—touching him—and made his disdain for her clear as he just narrowly avoided clamping his jaws down around her neck. There was no waiting for her to speak against him, no opportunity for her to try and lie her way out of this—no, the ghost did not allow for any of that. With the snapping of his jaws and snarls unlike any he’s ever unleashed before, the usually calm wolf had the last of his patience with her worn away and gave chase, ridding the area of her presence. He would chase until she was several territories away and still running, before turning around and returning to the bypass.