The Cursed: Threads of Destiny

Skaidras - II

If someone had asked him, just a few centuries ago, what was that one thing constant in all of earth’s history since the existence of the first humans, he’d have probably said war. Because it is true. There has been a war since the first killing, if not continuously, then every few decades. It’s as if people cannot seem to stay away from it and war consumes everyone. When he was younger, he used to think peace came easily, that it came naturally. But as he grew, he found that to be untrue, and he was forced to learn the hard way.

His family had raised him to be kind, but with each passing decade and his extended life, he found that he was losing his kindness. And every time he looked at his reflection, whether in the water or in a mirror, he’d find someone his family would not recognize. He wasn’t raised in kindness, but they tried their best with all that was happening and had happened to them all.

The first memory he has of Dāsna is a few centuries old. He remembers burning without the heat of fire and a sting without a bee. More importantly, he remembers Dāsna’s tears and apologies, though he was at no fault. He was reluctant to go when they came to free him. A fear unknown to him plastered his feet to the ground, and they had to drag him away as he screamed.

He tries not to remember, but his suffering had led him to meet one of the most important people in his life and he would suffer again even if they hadn’t talked in the last century and a half. He knows that suffering is not a requirement to meet loved ones, it’s just how he met his people, however hard they were to find. Their company is worth the wait because it was under their care that he became what he is now, and he likes himself well enough.

He’d let his relationships rust because he refuses to be first to apologize, but can you really blame him if he was born the youngest of 5? Although it is foolish to think that he has time, he believes it. There is a war coming and he still believes he has time. He freezes, as dread fills his chest and whirls in his heart, to look at the glowing pendant sitting near the pen stand.

The presence of the spirits was something he was skeptical about until that moment. He thought it was just him hallucinating due to lack of…everything, but apparently not. He doesn’t particularly enjoy communicating with spirits. They give him strange visions and talk cryptically and mess his memories up more than they already are. They are the last resort he takes when he is truly desperate, and he is rarely desperate. There it is, he thinks, as he feels the rush he always does before experiencing visions.

He runs, reaching his limit and burning his leg, away from his brother. They were playing, and he could hear his parents trailing behind. His other siblings had opted to play another game and were somewhere deeper in the dark forest. He thinks hard, to remember why they were out and not training or studying some ritual.

His mother, who was an alpha of an ancient pack, was exiled for the crime of having a natural for a mate. His father’s voice echoes in his mind, telling the tale of how his mother’s people were actually planning to sacrifice them both and how they escaped. He never understood her crime. If it was the goddess who made all the matches with her divine touch, then how was it his mother’s fault for mating with his father? He asked his mother, who coldly commanded him not to question the goddess and her ways. It was the same tone his father used when he would question some things in the holy scripture. He would realize much later that it was simply curiosity and not some heinous act he’d committed by asking questions; much, much later.

He considers that this is a vision, but why would the spirits show him visions of the past? What good would that yield? It hits him then, just as his small body hits a tree. This isn’t a vision, it’s a memory. One he had forgotten. It was something they’d do once in a while, something their mother allowed once in a while. A simple holiday in the woods. They could run, draw blood playing, hunt, chase each other from one end to the other, and they would not hear one word of reprimand from either of their parents, who would be busy in their own world.

‘Liktenīgā saikne ir patērē, mans mazais vilks.’ his mother’s voice whispers in his ears.

“Mamma?” he says, grabbing the pendent as he looks around for his mother’s spirit. He wasn’t planning on sleeping, but now he won’t be able to no matter how much he wants to. The fallen pages that he has been anxiously reading are recent reports his representative and close friend, Scarlett, gathered during the latest investigation of SV7.

The last of the people living there were moved yesterday and another survey was conducted just to be sure that no one was left behind. Although they had suspected that the ‘rebels’ wouldn’t choose that certain settlement for nothing, they didn’t know the reason until now. SV7 is one of the most recent settlements that was built in the south-west area after it was cleared from all signs of radiation. The south-west area suffered from all the major blows in the war, and it seems that, instead of destroying the land and its resources, the radiation proved to be good for the area. He remembers a doctor discovering a cure for a supernatural illness in the very same area. Her work has saved thousands till date.

The thriving land has led to a staggering increase in wolfsbane growth, and not the mild kind. That explains the sickness in the soldiers, he thinks, grabbing the files and sitting on the floor. Something’s missing. He reads the files again and again, pulling up the holographic map of SV7, trying to find a link, other than the obvious. A knock on the door draws his attention. He sits straighter, not bothering to stand from his place on the floor.

“Come in,” he says, not looking as the person enters the room.

“Good evening, Your-” Zach’s voice greets him before abruptly stopping, “Your Majesty?”

“Down here.”

He hears footsteps, eyes not leaving the maps and papers, before stopping in front of him. Wolfsbane in small amounts can be used for k********g (no ransom request yet), but all kinds of supernaturals are kidn*pped, not just werewolves. Large amounts mean death. How many were kidn*pped from-

“Zach,” he says, “Where’s your father?”

“Oh- he just retired for the day, Your majesty,” Zach says, “May I be of any assistance in the meanwhile?”

The King looks up to consider his soon-to-be second-in-command. He needs his beta’s insights and opinion, but more than that, he needs information to form a theory and proof to prove the theory. And he needs it now. He’ll have to do, I suppose, he thinks, before nodding his head.

“Yes,” he commands, “I need the number of kidnappings that have occurred in SV7 and surrounding settlements in detail. Also, when did the sickness start in the soldiers stationed in SV7?”

“Around 6 months ago, sir.”

“Have there been any reports of killings?”

“All unaffected deaths, except for the occasional homicide cases, as far as I’m aware.”

“And all cases are solved?”

Zach pulls up the records on his holo-phone, which irritates him a little, but he can’t blame the younger generation for adapting to the new technology. He waits patiently as his future beta finds the reports.

“All but 3 solved, sir,” he says, answering an unasked question, “All werewolves.”

“Alright,” he says, exhaling. “I will request Scarlett to discreetly look into those cases and keep us informed. You will get us coffee and energy drinks. We have a long night ahead of us.”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect,” Zach says, restraining his excitement, “You must stop drinking that much-”

“It is an order, Zach.”

“Do you prefer a particular brand?”

“Bring everything we have,” he says, eyes settling back on the map, imprinting it in his mind.

“Yes, sir.”

He moves to call Scarlett as soon as Zach steps out of the room and closes the door. She doesn’t pick up right away, and he looks at his watch, wondering if she’s asleep. Given her situation, she doesn’t sleep much, but naps every chance she gets. He’d really hate to wake her up.

“What do you want?” she says harshly in a ragged voice. And he’s woken her up.

“There were three homicides committed in SV7 that have not been solved yet,” he says, and before he can continue she interrupts him.

“You want me to play detective?”

“If you’re willing,” he says in a commanding voice, “I have a hunch, but I’m not sure.”

“Report straight to you?”

“Yes, thank you, Scarlett.”

“Don’t say thank you. Let’s talk about that early retirement.”

He opens his mouth to reply but in vain as she hangs up. He isn’t sure that the feeling he gets of not feeling like a King when he talks to her is good or bad, mostly because he isn’t sure if it is her lack of respect or his lack of command. He doesn’t dwell on it. Either way, Scarlett’s work is brilliant and if it takes her to disrespect him to keep her in the chain of command, then he’ll take it.

Zach enters the room again with his arms full of energy drinks and a cup of coffee in each hand as he babbles about something that he isn’t paying attention to. A discomfort settles in the back of his head in the form of his mother’s voice and her words and what they meant. He scratches his head before accepting the drinks given to him.