Chapter 630: Fight
BEAST IS SAYING GOODBYE (Sob) and because of that, Reth doesn't need your powerstone or Golden Ticket votes anymore! If you'd like to support me as an author, please consider transferring your votes/GT to my new book "Rise of the Dark Alpha." But if not, then use them on a different author/book because they're FAR more valuable to a book that is ongoing! Thank you for ALL your support this year. I am humbled and amazed!
*****
RETH
It had been years since he'd sparred with the strong, wiry lion. But Reth didn't even think about why he'd stopped fighting with Brant. He didn't consider Brant's age, or his respect for the male. His head sang with the need to keep the words from tripping out of Brant's mouth.
He could not speak it, and make it true.
So he threw himself at the male—slightly taller, but not nearly as broad as Reth himself. Brant had always looked more like an Equine with his long body and limbs. And he'd always been underestimated by those who sought to fight him. Because he'd never wanted to take true dominance, never desired the responsibility of King, Alpha of All, Brant had always sought to keep peace. Always preferred to fight with his mind, rather than his fists—choosing wisdom over force, and words before fists.
But Reth would not let him this time. He would force the male to submit. He would not hear the words the older lion wanted to say.
They both growled as Reth landed on him, but while Reth stretched, trying to take a grip on Brant's neck, to lock him in and force him to submit, Brant twisted, side-stepping the body-blow and turning too quickly for Reth to see, to come up behind him again as Reth stumbled forward—then immediately turned, finding his balance, and launching again.
"I won't let you do this, Reth," Brant said quietly, arms hanging just out from his sides, weight on the balls of his feet. He'd seemed to become more frail in the past year, but Reth saw none of that—no hesitation, no wavering. Brant stood ahead of him, rock solid and prepared for his attack. And as soon as Reth leaped for him, Brant was suddenly at his side and slapping his arms away so Reth stumbled past again. "I won't let you ignore the truth. It has never been your way."
Reth snarled and twisted around, not even finding his balance before throwing himself at the male again—and he was quicker than Brant had anticipated. He almost caught him—hooked a hand on his shoulder, forcing Brant to break his grip instead of setting himself up for another defense.
But still, with the slippery ease of a snake, no matter what Reth tried, he couldn't get a grip on Brant—and, even more frustratingly, Brant wouldn't engage. Reth swipes met sleeves, or empty air. His thrusts ended impotently in the space where Brant had once been. And his kicks were smacked away as the older male kept himself free again and again.
Reth was panting, his breath heaving and he roared with frustration. He needed to fight! He needed to win! He needed to keep this male's mouth SHUT!
But Brant, almost effortless, evaded him. And then he began to speak.
"I know the fear Reth. That gut-wrenching fear that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something just to prove to yourself that you can."
Reth growled and tried to catch Brant's ankle, but the male danced away again.
"I know you believe if you lost her, you would never recover, and it's true a part of you wouldn't. But you would be surprised what the Creator can do with you, with your life, if you let him."
"SILENCE!"
"No, Reth," Brant said calmly. "I will not let you deny the truth. I will not let you ignore the questions. And I will not fight you. If you want to fight, wrestle with this: Sometimes the Creator ushers the greatest pain imaginable into your life. And if He chooses it, you cannot avoid it no matter how hard you try. If you do not face that truth, if you do not ask Him why—what good could possibly come from it—you will spend every day of your life in bitterness and rage—or abject terror. This is not a moment for denial, Reth. He made you a fighter… fight for the truth. Do not turn from it."
"Stop!" Reth bellowed, launching himself, but he was too wild, too loose, Brant side-stepped, hooking his ankle and twisting him around, so they landed together on the dirt with a grunt, Brant's arm braced over his throat.
The older man, his eyes red and shining, leaned into Reth's face and forced him to hold his eyes.
"Either His plans are the best that can be for you—either they ultimately walk you to victory, Reth, or they don't." His voice was hushed and urgent. "Do not step into the mire of halfway faith. If He would choose it for you, does He choose for your good, or not? And if He does, submit! Surrender yourself to His mercy instead of forcing the world to your own. If you lose those you love most, you must never turn your back, you must keep asking why every day until you understand the answer."
"There can be no good that comes of losing my mate and our child! None!" Reth spat in his face.
Brant didn't flinch. "Do you see no good has come from my life, Reth?" he asked quietly.
Reth froze. Then his entire body shuddered. "Of course not, but… I can't… Brant, I can't," he rasped. "Don't ask me to… I can't surrender to that."
"You must, Reth. Surrendering to the Creator's chosen path does not mean inviting ruin. It means finding peace in the storm. His plan for you will not change. What will change is your heart in it. That is where you find comfort. That is where you find strength. Do not be swayed from that path, Reth. Throw yourself at His mercy, accept what He brings, and rest in His arms—whether you lose your family or not."
Reth roared his pain and anger and fear. He roared for the injustice of this life that had forced him to face the mortality of his mate every day since she became his. He roared for the sheer rage that he felt for death, for its finality. And he roared for his daughter who might never see him smile simply because she existed.
The roar reached to the very edges of the WildWood, raising the eyes and perking the ears of every Anima who stilled in their work, their conversation, or their rest, their hearts swelling with compassion for their King, for his pain, for his fear, and for the strength he had but could not use.
And as one, the Anima raised their voices in response, calling to their King… the roars, groans, howls, and songs reminding him in the tongue of every people, that he was not alone. That he would never be alone.
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