Episode 2: the outcast
1164 Words
Isolation wasn’t just a word—it was a suffocating silence that wrapped around me like a second skin.
The fringes of the Crescent Moon Pack weren’t a place anyone willingly lingered. It was where the unwanted were sent, a shadowy no-man’s land between the heart of the pack and the wilds beyond. It was a place for the broken, the shamed, and now, for me.
My feet crunched against the underbrush as I wandered aimlessly through the dense forest. The trees here stood taller, their gnarled branches twisting like skeletal hands. No one came out this far unless they had no choice, and now I was one of those unfortunate few.
The once-familiar scents of the pack—wood smoke, freshly turned soil, and the faint tang of pine—felt distant, as though I no longer belonged to their world. And I didn’t. Kael had seen to that. His rejection severed more than our bond; it had exiled me from the only family I’d ever known.
A low growl rumbled in the back of my mind, my wolf stirring restlessly. They don’t deserve us, she spat.
I swallowed hard, unsure if I agreed. But what I did know was that I couldn’t live like this—ignored, feared, whispered about. I needed answers, and the only place I could think to start was with the elders.
The elders’ den sat at the base of a jagged hill, carved into the rock like a fortress. It was said the walls whispered the pack’s history, though I doubted the truth of that now. If they did, they’d whispered nothing of my family’s curse, nothing that could have prepared me for the power that had erupted from me last night.
I hesitated outside the entrance, my palms sweating despite the chill in the air. The elders didn’t welcome interruptions, especially not from someone like me. But I couldn’t turn back now. Steeling myself, I pushed aside the heavy curtain of moss that veiled the entrance and stepped inside.
The den smelled of damp stone and aged parchment. A fire crackled in the center, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Three elders sat in a semicircle, their faces lined with time and the weight of countless secrets.
“Aria Nightshade,” one of them said, her voice like dry leaves rustling. “You have no business here.”
I clenched my fists. “I need to know about the curse. My family’s curse.”
The three exchanged uneasy glances, and the air grew thick with tension.
“It’s not for you to know,” the eldest of them said, her milky-white eyes fixed on me as though she could see straight into my soul. “Some truths are better left buried.”
“But it’s not just my burden anymore!” I snapped. “You saw what happened. The pack saw. If I don’t understand it, how can I control it?”
“You can’t,” she said simply. “It was never meant to be controlled.”
Her words were a dismissal, but I couldn’t leave it at that. “Then tell me where it came from,” I pressed. “Who cursed us? Why?”
The elders remained silent, their faces unreadable. Frustration bubbled in my chest, and before I could stop myself, I slammed my hand against the stone wall. The impact sent a jolt of energy through me, and for a moment, the firelight dimmed as if something dark had sucked the warmth from the room.
“You’re afraid,” I said softly, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “You’re afraid of me. Just like the rest of them.”
The eldest elder leaned forward, her expression hardening. “Leave this place, child, before you awaken things best left sleeping.”
Her warning sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to let it show. Without another word, I turned and stormed out of the den, the weight of their silence pressing against my back.
The journal wasn’t where I expected to find it.
I had returned to the tiny cabin my family once called home, a forgotten relic on the edge of pack territory. It had been years since I’d stepped foot inside, but the memories hit me like a tidal wave. The worn wooden floors creaked beneath my feet, and the air was thick with dust, but it still smelled faintly of my mother’s lavender soap.
I didn’t come here for nostalgia. I came for answers.
The journal was tucked away in a loose floorboard beneath my parents’ old bed. The leather cover was cracked with age, the pages yellowed and brittle. My hands shook as I opened it, the familiar scrawl of my mother’s handwriting greeting me like a ghost from the past.
"To my Aria," the first page read. "If you’re reading this, it means the curse has begun to wake. I’m sorry, my love. I wanted to protect you from this, but some battles can’t be avoided. You must understand the truth, even if it frightens you."
Her words sent a chill racing down my spine, but I forced myself to read on.
The journal detailed the origins of the curse, piecing together a story I could hardly believe. Centuries ago, an ancient being—one of immense power—had been wronged by the Crescent Moon Pack. My ancestors, desperate to save themselves, had made a deal with it, offering a bond that would forever tie my bloodline to its dark power.
But the deal had a price. The being didn’t forgive, and it didn’t forget. Each generation was marked, cursed to carry its rage. And now, that rage had found me.
I flipped through the pages, my mind racing. The further I read, the more I began to understand that this wasn’t just about me or my family. This curse was bigger than all of us, and it was only a matter of time before it consumed the pack entirely.
But as I reached the final entry, my blood ran cold.
"Beware the shadows, Aria. The curse isn’t the only thing tied to our bloodline. There is someone—something—that watches, waiting for the moment to strike. Trust no one, not even those you think you know."
A branch snapped outside the cabin, the sharp sound cutting through the silence like a knife.
I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. Slowly, I closed the journal and rose to my feet, every instinct on high alert.
“Who’s there?” I called, my voice steady despite the fear curling in my stomach.
No answer.
But I could feel it—someone was watching me, their gaze heavy and unrelenting.
And then, from the shadows, a figure stepped forward, their face hidden but their presence unmistakable.
My breath caught in my throat as
recognition hit me like a blow.
It was someone I thought I’d never see again.
- Writer
