Page 87 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)
Viktor
Viktor faced the unseen enemy he had to overcome. No, it wasn’t the magical barrier. It wouldn’t last against the symbols tattooed on his back by Rafael. It was himself.
The trial exists in your mind, Viktor. You are both the accused, the prosecutor, and the judge. Only you. Rafael’s words had etched themselves into his thoughts as deeply as the tattoos had into his flesh.
For all these years, he had never judged in his own favour. Now, he was about to do something that would tip the scales. He refused to accept the finality of Mrita Hara . This couldn’t be the end.
He would force him to return – his animal spirit, his will, his inner drive – until they became one again, a cohesive whole.
“I’ll see you on the other side,” he said to the others in a fake light tone.
But his resolve was genuine. Ever since he’d discovered the power of his tattoo, he’d wondered why Rafael had given it to him.
Had Rafael foreseen the need for it in that cavern in Alberobello?
Or had he anticipated this very moment – a magical barrier Viktor would have to breach to save the Hospital and Amelia?
Whatever lay behind Rafael’s intentions, Viktor had to act now.
“Take cover once you’ve removed the stone. Don’t face the reptilians alone!” Presiyan warned, facing the upper Hospital levels. The screams coming from inside tore at Viktor’s heart – voices that belonged to friends and allies.
“We’ll see each other on the other side, my friend,” Mikhail said, his expression strained with tension.
The manticore paced restlessly near the magical barrier, his movements wild and desperate.
Some agents were firing at the harpies, but the distance was too great for their shots to hit.
The creatures inside the Hospital were dying, while those outside, trapped by the barrier, could do nothing but watch.
Viktor would change that. With a determination he hadn’t felt in years, he moved along the barrier, heading towards where they believed one of the stones was located.
He cast one last glance at the building before stepping back a few metres. Then, he sprinted in the direction of the barrier. His first and second attempts failed to carry him to the top, but on the third, he vaulted over, gripping the sharp spikes with his hands.
For a moment, he froze, his heart pounding in anticipation.
The barrier didn’t fry him. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Pulling himself up, he balanced precariously on the narrow ledge beside the spikes. They were packed tightly, obstructing his view of the courtyard. He climbed higher, risking his future ability to father children – not that he planned on having more.
When he landed on the other side, sweat clung to his brow, but his efforts paid off.
He immediately spotted his target. Still perched on the barrier, he gripped the spikes with one hand while drawing his gun with the other.
He aimed at the draconium stone – a slender, crystalline column about a metre tall, its pale pink surface shimmering in the dawn’s light.
From the shadow of a nearby tree, a colossal figure emerged. Viktor’s attention faltered for just a second, but it was enough to miss his shot.
As he realigned his aim, the figure leapt onto the magical barrier in front of him. If he’d had the time, Viktor might have cursed.
The last thing he saw before being shoved down into the courtyard was an enraged golden demon.
***
Amelia
Amelia called upon the necrosis, begging it to flow from her hands and decay the ropes binding her wrists. Her prayer swelled into a silent scream in her heart – a scream no one answered. Sevar stepped behind her, his claws digging into her shoulders and pinning her in place.
For a fleeting moment, she met the cold, swirling eyes of the ayradjakli. Then, swallowing the bitterness rising in her throat, she focused on the Queen. She would stare into those elliptical pupils during her last moments.
Her heart clenched, then galloped, sensing its end had come and frantically searching for a way to outrun fate. Amelia struggled to steady her breath, to stop trembling, to keep the tears at bay. But they fell anyway, wetting her cheeks.
She had failed. She had failed Mikhail and all those she had promised to help in stopping the Queen. She had failed every one of the prisoners in the Hospital, whose hearts were being ripped out at that very moment to power the opening of a portal to war.
The final hundred metres. The last challenge. A dizzying failure.
The Queen examined Amelia’s blouse as if calculating where to make the incision. Then, suddenly, her attention veered far ahead. “Sevar, what’s going on? I ordered the harpies to ensure no one left the building alive!”
“No one is leaving, Your Majesty. The harpies are taking the hearts and gathering them in the designated spot,” came the reptilian’s impassive reply from behind Amelia.
“The barrier – is it still active?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The Queen pointed at something with the knife. “Then who is this interloper, playing cat and mouse with the Commander?”
Amelia turned her head to follow the Queen’s gaze.
In the grass near the barrier, the masked figure was fighting a man.
They all observed the scene unfolding in the distance.
The masked figure struck relentlessly, but the other man dodged every attack, ducking, leaping backwards, or slipping sideways to avoid the blows.
“Where are the Chosen?” the Queen demanded, her voice sharp.
“At their posts, Your Majesty, guarding the gathered hearts,” Sevar said.
“Send one of the Chosen to assist the Commander!”
“There’s no need, Your Majesty. Everything’s under control.”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed, and she glanced over Amelia’s shoulder at Sevar. “I said send someone .”
Sevar’s claws dug deeper into Amelia’s shoulders, gripping the fabric of her shirt. “As I said, everything is under control,” he repeated, his voice unyielding.
Several gunshots rang out above the screams, causing everyone to turn their attention to the fight near the wall. A pink object shattered into fragments, scattering across the grass. The unidentified man broke away, running towards the centre of the courtyard.
The energy in the air shifted, as if a pressure was lifting from the courtyard.
“Under control, is it?!” the Queen’s voice leapt up in fury. “The barrier has fallen! If they think they can stop me from taking the hearts, they’re gravely mistaken. Order the Chosen to attack!”
Amelia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man who’d brought down the barrier with his shots.
It was Viktor.
***
Viktor
The masked figure grew increasingly enraged with each passing second that he failed to catch him.
Viktor’s entire body was numb from the exertion, his heart pounding in his ears.
Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him as he baited his pursuer, but the surge of adrenaline flowing through him was intoxicating.
His inner spirit had to be alive – he could almost feel it stirring within his soul.
He still didn’t know whether he’d succeeded in knocking down the barrier. He’d fired all his bullets at the stone, but had it worked?
The pursuer caught up with him, tackling him to the ground. Viktor was a large man, but the other was bigger, and the collision forced the air from his lungs. His heart pounded even harder.
Come on! he willed the wolf.
The masked figure tried to pin him down with his weight, but Viktor slipped free and flipped him over. With frenzied energy, he started raining blows on the mask. He couldn’t see the damage his fists were causing, but the scent of blood filled his nostrils.
The moment his opponent stilled, Viktor ripped the mask off his face and hurled it into the grass. He would retrieve it later to present to Presiyan. The real Tribunal leader would appreciate the blood-soaked interior.
Then he resumed his assault. Every punch landed with the force of stolen time – of nights he’d lost with the woman he loved, of the child he’d never held.
Of years spent in anger and violence. Of the victims he’d gutted in his gluttonous thirst for blood.
Of Rafael, who had inked the symbols on his back.
Of the times he had tried to be someone else, ashamed of who he was inside.
Of the restrictions he had placed on Alex and Grigor – especially Alex – deluding himself that he was protecting her, only to rob her of the joys of her early life.
Most of all, each strike carried the weight of centuries of self-hatred for something that wasn’t his fault.
When his blows ceased, the man underneath him lay motionless.
The ground trembled with the roar of rushing footsteps. Viktor glanced towards the central gate. Creatures were flooding through. He had done it! The barrier was down!
The flurry of wings drowned out the sound of footsteps, accompanied by the grating caws of harpies. Screams of battle erupted in the courtyard as Viktor tried once more to transform.
A growl echoed nearby. Although he knew it wasn’t from his own throat, for a fleeting moment, he thought the wolf was back.
The masked figure stirred. He was a lycanthrope, just like Viktor, but unlike Viktor, he had control over his inner spirit. And he was transforming.
A clawed paw lashed out at Viktor’s face. He dodged the first swipe, but the second struck its mark. Searing pain tore across his cheek and lips. He smelt his own blood, then tasted it in his mouth.
The lycanthrope pushed him to the ground. Viktor struggled to crawl away, but a massive paw pinned him down. Jaws gaped above him, and saliva mixed with blood dripped onto his face.
Come on! he screamed in his mind, lacking the air to voice it.
He was calling to the wolf in his heart, to the part of him that was both his greatest weakness and greatest strength. He’d spent years trying to suppress it, yet since driving it away altogether, he had felt incomplete – crippled.
The jaws snapped above his head, the lycanthrope toying with his helplessness.
Come on!
The wolf couldn’t have abandoned him! Mrita Hara had to be a fabricated fear… The animal spirit was an integral part of him – it couldn’t be dead while Viktor still lived. It was there, buried deep in his heart, waiting to awaken.
The lycanthrope lunged, sinking its jaws into Viktor’s throat. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, a searing agony that pierced his very soul, accompanied by a gurgling sound of torment.
When the jaws withdrew, they took a piece of his flesh with them, and fresh blood spilt onto his face.
His vision blurred. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.
A woman’s cry rose above the surrounding chaos, loud and piercing, as if the mountain itself were crying out in anguish.
Then everything fell silent.
Viktor kept his eyes open until the very end. In the final moment before his life ebbed away, something plunged into his heart – sharp and unavoidable – burrowing deep inside, hiding.
He became one.