Page 15 of Shadowlands Omega

That is what I tell them, but that is not where I head. My legs grow beastly, morphing to their more lycanthropic shape. My claws dig into the ground and my hind legs explode the seams of my pant legs. I gather the Omega in my arms, clutching her close, and launch myself off of the ground with every ounce of my strength. I feel claws catching at my lower limbs and when I land, I crush an undead beneath me. I want them fucking off of me and so I leap and sprint again. I hold the Omega tight against my chest, trying to shield her as I fight my way free of the last of the undead at the same time that I run straight against a wall of water.

The rainy season is brutal and exposure like this won’t lead to anything but death for the Omega and I both if we don’t find cover. Her need is more urgent than mine. I would have no trouble making it to Orias with my Riders, but my Omega is already injured, breathing erratically, pulse weak, skin on fire. Already, we’re both soaking wet, my hair plastered to the sides of my face, water sluicing from it down my back beneath my cloak.

The rain beats with far too much force against the Omega’s bare arms and the result is that my concern for her beats far too loudly in my ears. It makes it far, far too easy to ignore the sound of the fighting continuing at my back. The zombie horde are still thrashing away, sure to be conquered by the rains soon if my Riders don’t get to them first. The undead will survive the rains, sure, but likely in pieces. We will recover and destroy the pieces when the rains relent, but that won’t be for some time. Time that my Omega does not have. She needs cover. I survey the trees before me, waiting for the right tree, waiting for the right time.

Heart trees are famous. They grow only here in the northeastern-most region of the South Island. They once covered the Shadowlands’ entire northern shore, but that was before my time. Before Paradise Hole. Even as a boy, I remember my first visit to the Heart Forest as a newly ascended Berserker. The infection of Paradise Hole had already begun to spread, but the Heart Forest was bigger then, still teeming with life. Now, despite my restoration team’s best efforts, anything that once was green has turned grey. The heart trees are all that remain. But, we will not lose the heart trees. Not while I remain Shadow Lord. Just as I will not lose this Omega.

My jaw clenches with renewed determination as I find what I’m looking for, as if the heart trees themselves have heard my vow and accepted my offering. Similarly to mangroves, heart trees have roots that bury deep into the waterlogged ground, however the roots are as thick as my biceps and their trunks are swollen at the bases, tapering up towards crooked branches. The roots keep the trunks and sparsely decorated boughs up off of the ground and, when the rains begin, the treesdancein abject delight.Trunks as wide as ten, twenty feet in diameter, like the one I stand before now,move,their roots physically carrying them great distances. Heart trees are known to migrate as far as twenty miles in a heavy storm as they seek out new pastures.

“Omega, brace yourself for the darkness.” She doesn’t reply and I don’t let myself be distracted with her wellbeing. I wait for the heart tree to take its first breath.

The trunk splits, revealing the darkened interior. I hear the sound of the Omega gasping in between the much louder sound of her teeth chattering. Yes, it is a beautiful sight. The heart tree lifts, its roots pushing deep into the swampy earth, and the Omega in my grip jumps, clinging to my cloak and shoulders as it rises up. It is a spectacular thing to behold, the Heart Forest coming alive.

Trees begin to slowly move, walking in all directions. The one before us takes its next breath, opening at the whorl on its front — its heart — and I use the opening now, which is just wide enough, to lift the Omega up and toss her inside. The rains arepunishingas I track the tree another dozen steps, waiting for it to breathe again so that I may join the Omega inside of it. My paws are sucked into the swollen soil on each step, making motion difficult. I snarl up at the skies, my chest tightening at the thought of her alone inside of the tree for all this time.

The tree inhales, the opening finally large enough for me. I launch myself inside, my legs twisting to those of my Alpha from those of my beast. I crash onto the ground, hands and feet scrambling over the smooth wood, trying to gain purchase. I worry I’ll crush her, and then I worry some more when my hands don’t find her at all.

“Omega,” I snarl.

She gasps and my hand meets skin. “Yaron…” she whimpers.Whimpers.

“Omega, come to me.” I haul her against my body, switching my sight to that of my beast so I can see her more clearly. She’s soaked and so am I, my heavy cloak and leather armor weighing me down. I unhook the clasp at my neck, liberating myself. My cloak squishes on the floor. I shove it behind me, remove my wet shirt and toss it into the pile. My boots and trousers were shredded throughout the course of my many transformations. I tear their remains away from my skin now.

I sink into the bowl-shaped hollow with my knees spread and my back against the heart tree’s interior wall. I grab the Omega’s thin shoulder and lift her up into a seat. I grab the material at the back of her neck and use one of my claws to carve a path through the wet cloth, following the line of her spine.

She shivers violently, her teeth chattering together. She tries to clutch the rag to her chest, or maybe, she’s so cold her arms have locked — in either case, I have to pull her between my thighs and wrestle the garment away from her. I toss it against the far wall, wrap both arms around her naked body and wrench her against my bare chest.

“Omega, calm yourself,” I order, but the longer I hold her against me like this, the harder her breathing becomes. Harder and more erratic, punctuated by involuntary whimpers and whispered moans, she’s shaking badly now. I hold her tighter. “Omega, I will not harm you,” I say, and the shock of what I’ve just told her hits me a delayed moment thereafter.

She is my prisoner. It is my duty to harm her. Have I…lied? No. No…I am the Shadow Lord. I do not lie. Perhaps, what I meant to say was that I will not harm hernow. Not until after Trash City has been found. Then she will be punished for her treachery.

Cold air slams inside of the heart tree on each of the tree’s deep inhalations. The Omega shakes violently each time. Rainwater has begun to fill up the basin of the tree — a reserve for the heart tree to draw on later, but right now it simply soaks us through to the bone. Outside, I see nothing but a dark grey wall of rain, no matter if I use my beast’s sight or my Alpha’s.

“Omega. Breathe. Follow my breath.” I take exaggerated inhales that she promptly ignores in favor of jerky breaths that make it sound like she’s drowning. The sensation burns into my chest, lancing me like a brand, every time. I worry that, in the dead of night, months from now, I will still feel the pain of that sound.

I feelunsettled. Scrambling now, I tell her, “The heart tree travels east towards Undoline but far before that, we will reach a hunter’s hole. It is dry. There is food. That is where we will ride out the storm.” Another violent tremor rocks her. My gut clenches. I need my beast to warm her better, but within this heart tree there is not space enough for that. “Omega, nod if you understand me.”

She nods and the slightest relief causes me to tighten my arms around her. “Good girl.”

She shivers even more exaggeratedly, but I merely fix my grip, fastening it around her unflinchingly. She does not relax, but shivers more wildly. My abdomen is clenching in panic. I feel fear — genuine fear — for the first time in as long as I can remember. I feel helpless to do anything to end her suffering, to save her life, if that is what is on the line here because she seems like she is falling to pieces. I have not felt helplesseverbefore now. And I cannot stomach it.I will not forget this sensation. It will torture me months from now. Years.

“Omega, do not show your weakness now. You, who threw flames from your fingertips to defend your family…” To defend me. “We are nearly there.” I peer out into the world on the tree’s next exhale and as the rain cuts down hard, I can only locate approximately where we are. “The tree will move us within walking distance on the next exhale, maybe two.” What I don’t tell her is that walking outside now, through the thick sheets of icy, pelting rain, will be brutal.

She nods so pitifully and yet it shoots heat all the way down my legs to the heels of my feet. She’s here. She’s hearing me. And yet, she’s so weak. My Berserker howls and bitches and moans, but I refuse to give him my voice. I say nothing, until, “Brace yourself, Kiandah.” Because on the heart tree’s next exhale, I jump down out of the heart tree and I carry Kiandah into the storm.

5 | Yaron

Heart Forest

The journey to the hunter’s hole was swift, but that does not save us.We still arrive beaten and abused. The storm wails ferociously as I force open the swollen, waterlogged door. The hunter’s hole is built into the side of a low hill, the spartan cabin set on the hunter’s line, a path now utterly indistinguishable from the swamplands surrounding it. It will be an undertaking to have it reestablished. It always is, and it needs to be maintained more often with how violently and frequently the rains come. The world is changing. Gatamora is getting darker. Something is coming.

I manage to find the latch and force our bodies across the threshold, the wind lashing our backs, water nipping at our heels, trying to drag us back. The majority of the structure is wood, but it’s largely reinforced by the earthen walls that form two of the four walls that make up the small space. I turn towards the rain whipping through the doorway and roar as the storm tries to force its way inside. I manage to place the bar across the door with the Omega in one arm, but I cannot batten the windows properly with her in my grip.

With the door closed, holding some of the rains at bay, I round on the cabin and quickly cross the short distance to the hearth. I find a pile of neatly folded blankets beside it and shake the first out, lay it before the hearth and then grab the second. I go to wrap it around the Omega, but my beast rears his head. The blanket smells of the hunters that came before. Three distinct scents, all male. I’ll lay this over her over my dead body…

Or hers.

Or hers. Fuck. I grunt and wrap the Omega up. I lay her down on the floor, hating the way her head thunks against the floorboards, even through the blankets. I quickly flip open the small metal box located beside the blankets, locate the firestarters and set flint to steel. I have a fire simmering — flickering — in the smooth stone hearth within a few moments. It takes me longer than it should. Even though the cabin is dry, the moisture in the air is enough to dampen the kindling, making it harder to catch.

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