Of Ashes and Vows

CHAPTER 2

That much was true. The prophecy didn't leave room for mercy. Either I found my destined mate and doomed the pack, or remained mateless and let our bloodline die. Either way, I lost. I rejected the fight, the fight killed me before.

By midnight they'd dumped me at the territory border. I crouched by the black lake, tossing stones into the water. Each ripple felt like another failure. I crawled to the water, seeing my reflection staring back at me from the still water. Bruised face. Broken nose. The last Hrothgar heir, barely able to lead.

I picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the surface. "Some legacy," I muttered, while most of my thoughts still focused on what I had experienced earlier. Did it happen? Was it a vision too precise to be real? Did I dream it? Did I actually die?

The water rippled long after the stone sank and then a voice stole all of my thoughts and with them, my attention.

"You always did throw like your mother."

The voice came from right behind me. I spun, pain shooting up my side, and saw an old lady sitting on a rotting log like she'd been there for hours. Her moth-eaten shawl flapped in the breeze.

I hadn't heard her approach. She looked frail but the air around her danced like something ancient.

"She could skip a stone clear across this lake," She continued, “quite sharp to know when someone sneaks up behind as well. Sharp enough to shift faster than any alpha in three territories at the scent of a threat."

I clenched my fists. "What do you want?"

The lady smiled, showing teeth too sharp for an old woman. "To ask you something, Hrothgar boy. Why are you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself when your mate's probably out there right now, wondering where the hell you are?"

The words hit me harder than any of Jarek's kicks. Jerek was the commander's disciplined wolf brother.

"I don't have a mate," I said automatically.

She chuckled. "That's what your pack keeps telling you. But I don't smell curse on you, boy. I smell something much more interesting." Her voice drew on and the sky mumbled. Her presence stank of something off this world.

She leaned forward and suddenly was before me, her breath warm against my ear.

"I smell a lie."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Her cracked lips curved. "You should have run, boy!” She spoke and I saw her eyes gleam. She was different, unlike me, unlike us, unlike a wolf. Then I felt her thumb on my forehead and my eyes opened to visions before my time…before this time.

The pebble slipped from my fingers. It hit the water with a sound like a hammer striking stone.

“Your ancestor bore the first wolf-kind, inherited the goddess's blessing upon Hrothgar, the gift of access to the astral realm, the upper lifespan, and immunity to mere wolfsbane and you are in a town that has tied down almost all of your abilities. Your mother knew better but knew it late, you should have run.”

“This is my home.” I frowned, and tried to fight her compulsion over me and I saw them, her eyes, bright as jackdaw. A mild wind swept from the angle she stood towards me and carried me easily into her visions. I turned over ready to strike at the lady but then I heard her speak, weirdly, what she wasn't supposed to know. I heard only her voice, her body was lost in the wind.

“The goddess blessed your eyes with dreams of night. The goddess knows your home and lets you know that it isn't here. The one you love, your mate,” She then appeared where my eyes fell and pointed behind me. I gazed over my shoulder and saw a tall white mist that divided a road. My wolf begged to approach like he felt the presence of something on the other side. “You should have run, run to the truth, at the end of the city where the fog divides.”

She spoke and I felt her presence getting closer, I couldn't bulge much, show no sign of fear even though it consumed me. My skin sizzled with each word she spoke until, “Dream it, Spark the flame.”

Fright consumed me when I felt an unearthen beast behind me. Quickly, I flung the blades in my pocket behind me but my eyes met no one there. She…she was gone.

~

FLASHBACK

Roderic's lip curled back, revealing sharp feline canines. "That thing you carry isn't my son. It's a curse." His voice cut through the chamber like winter wind.

Brie's hands flew to her swollen belly. "He's your child," she whispered. "Our blessing from the Goddess." Her knees hit the stone floor, trembling arms barely keeping her heavy stomach from the ground. "Why won't you love him?"

The Alpha's laugh held no warmth. "Love him? When every seer agrees he'll destroy the Triad?" He loomed over her, shadow swallowing her kneeling form. "Should I brand him rogue the moment he draws breath? Would that make you understand?"

Brie's nails scraped against stone. "They're wrong. The visions—"

"Are never wrong." Roderic turned away, his cloak sweeping the ground.

Her hands shook as she grabbed his leg, fingers twisting in the rich fabric of his robes. "No," she breathed, the word ragged with fear. "You can't do this."

He didn't slow his steps. She stumbled after him, her grip tightening. "This isn't about protecting the pack. This is about your throne, your pride!" Her voice broke on the last word.

Roderic stopped dead. When he turned, his face was carved like stone as his anger appeared patent with his frown. "Release me."

She held on. "You'd kill a child over rumors? You're not a king. You're a frightened old man."

The blow came fast. Her head snapped sideways, the sting blooming across her cheek before she hit the ground. She tasted blood.

Above her, Roderic straightened his sleeves with calm precision. "That boy will never wear the Alpha's crown. If I must tear this pack apart to prevent it, so be it." His voice never rose, but each word landed like a judge's sentence.

Her tears fell on the dirt as he walked away. On her knees, hands pressed to her swollen belly, she whispered to the life inside her: "I'm sorry."

Somewhere in that darkness, in her belly, I kicked.

~

My cracked lips parted as a gasp tore from my throat. My hands flew to my chest—no blood, no wounds. Just sweat-drenched skin and a heartbeat loud enough to rattle my ribs.

Moonlight spilled through the window. My window. In my cabin.

I was in bed.

"What the hell...?" The dream clung to me like cobwebs—Roderic's snarl, my mother's tears, the sickening certainty that I'd been there, listening from the darkness of her womb.

The sheets tangled around my legs as I stumbled to the washbasin. Cold water shocked my face but didn't clear the images: the old woman by the lake, her gnarled fingers gripping my wrist, her whisper; “You should have run, run to the truth, at the end of the city where the fog divides.” and the words she carefully said, “Dream it, spark the flame,” before the visions swallowed me whole.

My reflection wavered in the water's surface. Same scar above my eyebrow. Same too-sharp canines. But something in my eyes looked...older.