Witch in wolf's clothing - Namaari

Chapter 58: Aralithia

The stark contrast between the beauty of this place and the grim, suffocating underground cell I had been trapped in feels almost surreal. Every corner of this palace, or rather, this estate, is intertwined with nature—lush greenery cascading down walls, vibrant flowers blooming in every direction, and trees whose branches stretch toward the sky, framing the architecture like something out of a forgotten dream. It’s a living oasis, untouched by the desolation of the surrounding desert.

But the desert... it wasn’t always a desert.

I replay the words of the ancient history I’d spent hours reading in my opulent guestroom. The lush gardens and intricate water fountains here are only a pale echo of what this land used to be—centuries ago, this entire region was a sprawling oasis, so green and fertile that the courtyard I had seen earlier paled in comparison. At that time, the land was ruled by the Fae. They called their realm Aralithia, a vast and thriving kingdom of courts, each presided over by a Fae queen or king.

Aralithia was surrounded by dense forests, long coastlines, and towering mountains. Those marked the boundaries of werewolf and witch territories, regions the Fae rarely ventured into. They had no need to—their magic made them powerful, self-sustaining. Witches stayed away from the Fae as much as possible, fearing their immense powers. Yet, despite the unspoken tension, the werewolves were eventually drawn to the richness and enchantment of the Fae lands. At first, they stayed within their boundaries, cautious, knowing the Fae were formidable, their powers untouchable. They existed in a careful balance. Werewolves who meant no harm were treated as guests but no more.

But over time, the lines blurred. Some werewolves fell in love with Fae or even discovered their fated mates among them. Bonds formed. Bloodlines mixed. The courts, once devoted to keeping their lineage pure, began to fracture. Only the royal lines of the courts held firm to the belief in their sacred blood, marrying within their own kind, and trading children between courts to maintain their heritage.

It wasn’t enough to stop the change.

As the old records described it, a few courts grew more militant, determined to preserve the Fae’s purity at all costs. Others saw no reason to resist the tides of change. And thus, war erupted—courts turned against courts, brother against brother. Werewolves, halflings, and Fae alike perished in the conflict. The destruction was so complete that the ‘pure’ Fae all but vanished, their once-grand palaces left in ruins, their magic forgotten by all but a few. No one knew where they had gone, whether they’d fled or simply disappeared.

In the aftermath, it was the strongest werewolves and their Fae mates who rebuilt. But instead of courts, they formed packs, ruling over what was left of the land. Those who still possessed Fae blood were prized, their magic capable of fostering life—creating fertile land, pure water, and endless greenery. Yet, as the centuries passed, the Fae blood grew thinner, and so did their magic.

The oasis that had once been Aralithia withered. It became a barren wasteland—a desert. In a desperate bid to protect what little remained, the last packs pooled their powers to make the desert treacherous, deadly, ensuring that no one from the forests, coasts, or mountains could ever reach them. They hoarded what little green remained, unwilling to share the last vestiges of their once-great kingdom.

And so, the Fae were forgotten by the packs outside the desert, reduced to nothing more than bedtime stories for children, a distant myth.

The history swirls in my mind, the weight of it sinking into my bones as I step onto a wide patio. It’s another breathtaking space, with arches that open into a stunning courtyard. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the sprawling garden, fountains bubbling softly in the background, as if the world had forgotten its own ruin.

At the center of the patio sits a long table draped in white, adorned with plates of fresh fruits, roasted meats, and various delicacies. Luna Vireena is already seated at the head of the table, her posture regal, yet relaxed. With a graceful motion of her hand, she beckons me to sit.

I glance at the two warriors flanking me, their presence commanding but somehow comforting now that I’m more familiar with them. As we approach the table, they take their seats beside me, one on each side. I frown slightly, curious.

“Luna Vireena,” I say, my voice hesitant but steady, “is it common here for ordinary pack members to dine with their Luna? Not that I mind, of course, just... unusual.”

To my surprise, the two warriors chuckle softly. It’s the first time I’ve really noticed how striking they are—both of them with golden curls and the same piercing blue eyes as their Luna, though their features have a rougher, more rugged charm. Still, no one comes close to the pull I feel toward my mates.

Luna Vireena’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “These are no ordinary pack members, Princess. This is Alpha Damar,” she gestures to the man on my left, “and Alpha Jahir,” she motions to the one on my right. “My sons.”

My mouth falls open slightly as I look between them, stunned. Alpha Damar and Alpha Jahir? Of course, they had the commanding aura of leaders, but to be Luna Vireena’s sons… I quickly recover, nodding respectfully. They both incline their heads slightly in return, their eyes twinkling with amusement. “Princess,” they greet me in unison, their voices deep and smooth.

We begin to eat in silence for a few moments, the delicate flavors distracting me from my racing thoughts. Then, Alpha Damar breaks the quiet.

“So,” he begins, his tone casual but curious, “you’ve learned by now that Fae aren’t just stories for children, yes?”

I swallow the bite of food I had been chewing and nod. “Yes,” I answer, and then after a moment of thought, I add, “but there’s something I don’t understand.” I glance toward Luna Vireena before continuing, “According to your books… there’s supposed to be very little magic left. But, Luna Vireena, you… this place… it radiates magic. How is that possible?”

The two Alphas exchange a glance, and Luna Vireena gives them a subtle nod, granting them permission to answer. Alpha Jahir speaks first. “Every pack still surviving in this desert, every pack that has even a scrap of greenery, of fruit, owes that to their Alpha or Luna being descended from a Fae bloodline. Some possess more magic than others, but none as much as our mother, because she is...”

His voice trails off, and he casts a quick look at Luna Vireena, who remains silent, her expression thoughtful. He doesn’t finish his sentence, leaving something unsaid.

Alpha Damar picks up the conversation, his gaze focused on me. “The packs don’t trust each other, Princess. They’re jealous. If one Luna or Alpha has more magic than another, it stirs envy. And any child born with even a spark of Fae magic, no matter how small, is bound to the pack. They’re forced to stay and strengthen their own.”

Luna Vireena sighs, her fingers gently tracing the rim of her cup as she speaks. “Some packs take it even further. They raid other packs, hire mercenaries to kidnap halflings who still carry Fae magic in their blood, no matter how weak. They’re desperate to bind any trace of magic to their own. And there are packs that have lost all traces of Fae blood entirely. They’ve adapted to the harsh desert, but those are the most savage packs, Princess. The ones who fight not just for survival but for dominance. They don’t want halflings with magic, they kill them.”

I take it all in, absorbing the complex web of alliances and betrayals that have shaped this land. I realize now that their struggles aren’t so different from the ones I’ve seen outside the desert. Conflicts over power, bloodlines, and survival seem to transcend borders.

“So,” I begin slowly, piecing everything together, “you wouldn’t wage war beyond the desert, not when you already have so much to defend and lose here. Why would you start a conflict with the packs outside the desert?”

Alpha Damar frowns deeply, his eyes narrowing as he speaks. “My uncle hasn’t attacked any pack. It was you who came after him.”

Alpha Jahir nods in agreement. “We’ve always warned that his pack was too close to the border, and even the protective sandstorm wasn’t a guarantee of safety from outsiders. And look at what happened.”

I feel a wave of confusion. What are they talking about? Everything I’d been told by my own pack painted a different story. Luna Vireena’s voice cuts through my thoughts, calm yet firm.

“I understand your confusion, Princess Namaari,” she says, her gaze locking with mine. “I’ve seen it in your mind. Alpha Flint and his pack have fed you a distorted version of the truth. In reality, it’s Alpha Flint who has been spying on the Duneshadow pack for over a year now.”

I blink, my mind racing to keep up. “Spying?”

Luna Vireena nods, her expression turning cold. “He’s sent many of his pack members to infiltrate and observe us. My brother managed to capture one of his spies and handed him over to me. I read his mind, and that’s when it became clear. Alpha Flint wants de Duneshadow pack for one reason—he seeks the Earthstone.”

My brow furrows, embarrassment creeping up as I realize just how little I understand. “Uh… I could use a bit more explanation here.”

Alpha Damar chuckles softly at my confusion, though his expression remains serious. “Every pack that still holds a patch of green has an Earthstone. That stone ensures the fertility of the land within a certain radius, as long as it’s regularly infused with fae magic. Without it, the desert would have swallowed us all by now.”

Luna Vireena continues, her tone even and controlled. “Alpha Flint wants that stone to expand his own territory, to have his own source of fertile land and wealth. How he learned of its existence… we don’t know yet.”

I swallow hard, my mind reeling with this new information. Everything I thought I knew about the packs beyond the desert, the conflict, and Alpha Flint’s intentions—had it all been a lie? My stomach churns with unease as I realize just how deep this web of deception goes.

“Please,” I say, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “You have to believe me. The Silvermist pack and the Stormfront pack would never have joined the attack if they knew this. They thought you struck first, that your brother’s pack was the aggressor. And... please, I need to return to the coastal packs. I have to confront Alpha Flint—who knows what else he’s planning.”

Luna Vireena regards me with a serene, almost amused expression, taking her time as she selects another bite of food. “All in due time, Princess Namaari,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “There are still things for you to discover here, about yourself. Once you’ve uncovered those truths, you will be free to leave.”