Chapter 10: Old Wounds

POV: Lila

The Scar That Burns

The smell of my own blood and damp ground fills the night air. I stagger through the thick woodland, feeling a stinging ache in my side with every step. A gash along my ribcage, Cassian's farewell gift, hurts every time I move. Although the wound itself is not deep, the agony of shame is.

I stop near a fallen log and apply pressure to the bleeding wound with my hand. The fabric of my shirt sticks to the wound like a reminder of my failure as the sticky warmth seeps through my fingertips. Cassian has never been known to hold back, so I wasn't surprised he went that far. For the first time, I noticed the doubt in his eyes, those recognizable blue tones that had been overflowing with judgment.

I mumble to myself, "Curse you, Cassian," my voice a whisper in the wind. "Always the hero, aren't you?"

I try to ignore the agony that nags at my chest by shaking my head. I've been made to feel weak by him before. It aches harder this time, though. It's not the actual injury, but rather what it stands for: his belief that he is more skilled than me at this game. Despite everything I own, he has never witnessed me fight.

Silver shadows are cast on the woodland floor by the moonlight that seeps through the canopy. In a nearby puddle, I spy my reflection. The tempest raging within of me is reflected in my furious and determined eyes. A snarl curls my lips. Doubt and self-doubt are out of the question.

I say to the night, "This isn't over," the words slipping out of my mouth like a promise.

Disloyalty Among Allies

Tucked down in the middle of the forest, hidden by tall trees and dangerous terrain, is the Crimson Hideout. The familiar smell of my pack wafts toward me as I get closer, blending with the smokey perfume of the fire pit that never goes out. At least some things never change, as the sound of the flames crackling serves as a reassuring reminder.

Ignoring the pain in my side, I push through the thick undergrowth. My thoughts are racing, planning my next course of action. The fact is, I have to maintain my concentration. I must restore my composure before the pack notices my vulnerability.

A multitude of voices greets me as I enter the hiding place.

One of the warriors exclaims, "Lila's back!" in a tone that is a mixture of relief and mistrust.

Another asks, "What happened out there?" as she looks around for any indications of damage.

"Did you find her?" More optimistic than anything else, a third voice adds its voice.

I silence them by raising a hand. Their worried and inquisitive gazes pierced me, but I refuse to let them know how deeply this upset me. I refuse to let them see me struggling.

"It's done," I say in a firm, unflinching voice. "She's dead."

A whisper reverberates throughout the gathering. Some give approving nods, while others exchange doubtful looks. Seth, the tall, broad-shouldered leader of the pack, advances with a frown on his face.

"Are you sure?" he asks in a careful, low voice. "We heard rumors..."

I gave him a stern look and interrupted him. "I said it's done."

Silence descends on the room. I don't want them to see any flaws in my façade, but their eyes dart with uncertainty. I want them to trust me. I want people to think I am in charge.

"Now," I add, hardening my voice, "we concentrate on our next action. Avoid any distractions. Ghosts are a waste of time for us.

The room hesitates a little, but they don't ask me any more questions. Seth returns to the crowd after nodding. The sound of boots on the wooden floor and the occasional crackle of the fire take the place of the murmuring.

"What's the plan, Lila?" One of the younger warriors, Kira, asks. Her eyes are wide, looking for guidance.

I look at the others, then at her. "I'm not sure yet," I offer. We'll follow the trail, though. Mira is still out there, and she will regret it if she tries to reach the eastern caverns."

Thoughts on Retaliation

Later that evening, I stood in front of a broken mirror by myself in my quarters. My face is covered in flickering shadows as the faint candlelight flickers. My ribcage scar serves as a continual reminder of my run-in with Cassian. It is painful. Emotionally as well as physically.

I run my fingertips over the sensitive flesh as I trace the contour of the scar. It is an indication of failure. A testament to my decline. In my mind, I can practically hear my mother's voice, her words reverberating through the room's quiet.

"Never allow somebody to make you feel inferior. You are more powerful than this.

Even after all these years, her voice still haunts me like a chilly reminder. She was correct. I've allowed far too many individuals to believe they can manipulate and destroy me. Cassian won't be the last; he wasn't the first. But, this scar will serve as a reminder to me. It serves as a reminder that I cannot afford to be weak. Not right now. Never again.

Once more, in the candlelight, I see my reflection. My eyes were icy, cunning, and brimming with a fierce desire for vengeance. They look like hers. My mom's.

I recall what she said and the teachings she instilled in me about power, strength, and never displaying weakness.

I whisper to my reflection, "Make her suffer," the promise becoming more firmly ingrained in my heart.

I'm startled and frightened out of my reverie by a knock at the door. My heart is pounding as I cover the wound with a shirt and open the door to see one of our scouts gasping and staring.

"What is it?" I demand, hardly controlling my annoyance.

He gasps, "Mira," his eyes wide with fear. "She's been spotted heading toward the eastern caves."

A lazy, rapacious smile appears on my lips. caverns in the east. Even if they are dangerous…even cursed…I've never shied away from a challenge. What about Mira? She's going to find out how far I'll go to achieve my goals.

"No more games," I declare in a stern tone. "This ends tonight."

The Search Starts

caverns in the east. a maze of passageways and rooms that are said to be haunted by ghosts from the past. Mira is desperate…or stupid…but few dare to go there.

I hastily grab my equipment, throwing a bow over my shoulder and strapping a knife to my thigh. I can still hear Cassian's voice as I get ready to depart.

"She won't survive another fight."

Something nags at me, like remorse, but I push it away. There is no space for uncertainty. There is no space for hesitation. Stopping now would be equivalent to conceding defeat, and I'm not ready to do that.

The cool night air rushes into my lungs as I go outdoors after grabbing my cloak and making my way to the door. My skin tingles from the cold, yet I accept it. Although I've been there before, the route to the eastern caverns is dangerous. Like the back of my hand, it is familiar.

The trees tower over me, their gnarled limbs extending like bony fingers toward the sky. I have keen senses, and every sound and smell leads me to my target.

Hours go by. The air is denser with the smell of earth and damp moss, and the terrain becomes more rocky. The trees split apart, and the entrance to the eastern caves—a gloomy and ominous abyss in the mountainside—looms before me.

I stop and listen. From within, I hear the faint echo of footfall. Her steps.

She is present.

I stride forward, the blade of my dagger cold on my palm as my hand grips the hilt. My senses are being sharpened by the adrenaline that is rushing through me. But, a sound from behind me causes my heart to skip a beat as I take another step.

A low grumble. Deep. Caution. With my dagger at the ready, I turn around, but nobody is there.

However, the shadows are shifting.

I'm being followed by something or someone.