ChapterFour
1105 Words
The forest feels different now.
It’s as if everything within the forest is connected to me. I can hear water flowing down the stream from miles away, and I smell rain even before it falls. Even the wind speaks to me.
The power that surged through me up the hill is still lurking.
I feel light, stronger than I have ever been, I move fast, barely touching the ground. The cut is healed completely.
Something else is within. A voice or maybe a memory, whispering thoughts to me.
“Rise, blood of the first moon.”
It feels ancient—the voice.
I force myself to focus, shaking off the thought. The hunt is still in play.
The air is filled with heavy mist. I crouch, focusing my ears on the surroundings. I hear a heartbeat, not far from me.
Before I can think, my instincts react. My claws emerge from my fingertips while I spin to attack, I watch my new claws in slow motion as they erupt from my fingers. I hold my breath for a moment.
Someone appears from the shadows.
He looks old, eyes golden but not so bright. He has a cloak covering his body and in his hand, a staff covered with shiny metal.
“It took you long to wake,” he says.
I move a few steps backwards. “Who are you?”
He smiles faintly. “Eryndor. Keeper of what’s left of truth.”
“ You should stay away from me,” I warn.
“ I mean no harm and if I did, you’d be gone already,” he says.
His words make my feet cold, sweat dripping down my body. It must be an illusion. I try to shake it off but he’s still here.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say. “The Hunt—”
“It's a lie,” he interrupts. “They did this to keep you bound. To kill what they fear.”
My heart skips one beat. “And what do they fear?”
He locks eyes with me. “You.”
I blink, unsure if I heard him right. “Why would they fear a weakling like me?”
“Your true self is coming to the fore—your Lycan blood.” He steps forward, slams his staff to the ground. The earth responds—it hums. “You carry the mark of the first Alpha, the one who defied the Moon herself.”
“You’re insane,” I say.
“Do I look insane?” He squints his eyes. “You felt it, didn’t you? The glow under your skin? The earth beating with your heart?”
I raise my eyebrows and blink.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“Your awakening was written in stone before you were conceived, and I’ve been waiting for you, my child.”
The way he says these words makes my pulse rise. “I don’t believe you, old man.”
He smiles,” Those who feared that the Lycans might return one day destroyed everything tied to you. You’re without a pack, memory, or name.”
A memory flashes all of a sudden—someone singing softly, a woman—I snap back.
“You’ll understand everything in time,” he says.
The sound of howls from far hit my ear, and the sound closes in. It’s the hunters.
Eryndor remains static like he heard nothing or doesn’t even care. “You must come with me or perish here,” he utters.
“You want me to trust you just like that?”
“Your blood already does,” his calm voice cuts in.
Before I can counter, he smashes the base of his staff against the earth and it splits open. A tunnel leading deep down into darkness unravels.
This has to be a trap.
I feel the hunters getting closer.
I look back at the forest, then at him. He seems to know what my answer will be.
My jaw tightens.
“If you try anything funny…”
He cuts in. “You can snap my neck.”
I take a few steps towards the edge of the hole. The tunnel is endless. I descend, my claws scraping the rough stone walls. The air gets cooler as I descend.
As I touch the bottom, flames on torches light the hall. Blue flames hang freely in the air. It’s an ancient ruin.
Eryndor lands behind me without sound,"This is what is left of the world before the Goddess took it.”
I turn back, and the chamber is vast with pillars made of the same material as his staff. A stone altar is at the center, cracked, yet still gleaming.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“It’s the stronghold of the Lycans,” he whispers. “Buried after the fall. Hidden from the packs.”
I stroll forward towards the altar. Air hovers around me. My ribs squeeze in— the power surge I felt in the forest spikes through me again. My fingertips brush the altar.
A vision floods me all of a sudden. Wolves running under a full moon. A huge figure standing tall— a woman with golden eyes, her voice sends the world rumbling. A crown that lights the world on her head.
Then I see fire, people held in chains, screaming.
I stumble back, gasping.
“What was that?”
“Vision from your past,” he says.
I lock eyes with him. “We both know that’s impossible.”
“Impossible?” he says in a soft voice, “that’s what they want you to believe.”
The sound of claws on stone breaks the silence.
“They must be tracking your blood,” he says. “ Stay and fight, and you may die, leave and you must conceal your real identity until it’s time.”
“ What time?”
“When the moon bleeds again.”
He presses a pendant into my palm— a cracked moonstone. “It is your mother’s.”
I freeze. “Are you—?”
“Go, now!” His voice cuts through.
The wolves draw closer. It's raining dust.
I turn and look at him for the last time." Why are you helping me?”
“ The world can only be safe during the next Blood Moon with you in it.”
He slams the base of his staff against the ground, and the earth splits between us, sealing me off from him completely.
His dim golden eyes are what I see before darkness consumes my sight.
- Writer
