One Ember, Two Hearts

CHAPTER #3: DEATH ROW

EMBER P.O.V.

"Ember, wake up!" I hear Harley's voice, frantic yet laced with familiarity.

The cool crisp spring mountain air, mingling with the dampness of dawn seeps through the rotten wood to the slave quarter. My eyes jolt open, panic squeezes my heart, as fear settles in ever since I came to this nightmare.

Sweat drips down my brow, as I gaze around the dim room. I find solace in the sight of worn, ragged walls that have become my prison. I wish this nightmare would come to an end, but the reality is always waiting, lurking in the corners just as it has for the past seven years.

What little sleep I do get never eases the torment of my soul. Not when every moment of it is shadowed by the bitter chains of my existence as a slave in the Mystic Forest Pack.

Harley helps me sit up, her gentle hands guiding me as I tremble uncontrollably, the aftershocks of my nightmare still clinging to my skin. Warm tears fall silently down my face. I take a few deep breaths, reminding myself that I’m still here, still alive.

"Are you alright?" She asks, her voice softer now, less frantic and more comforting.

"Ya." I reply, forcing a chuckle through my shuddering breaths. "What time is it?" I murmur.

"It’s still pretty early to start breakfast. Try to get some more sleep," She replies, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead.

Suddenly, my stomach growls loudly. It's warning reverberating through the haze of confusion. Linus, our grumpy roommate, glares at me from his corner of the room.

"Didn't you eat dinner?" He snaps, his voice grating and unyielding. He hates being woken up before it's time for work.

"I wasn't hungry." I reply, shrugging.

"When was the last time you ate?" He asks, his eyes softening for just a second as he studies my face. The question hangs in the air, heavy, as I drop my gaze to my lap.

“Three days ago?” I say with a humorless chuckle because I couldn't remember. Harley places a hand on my knee, a gentle reminder that I’m not alone, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

“I can’t keep rescuing you from your own mind if you’re not willing to meet me halfway.” She says softly. “You need strength, Ember.”

The Mystic Forest Pack is a twisted revelation of how beauty can harbor atrocity. With every sun-drenched morning, their laughter would cascade like the sound of chimes, and the sweet scent of pine would mask the reality that lay beneath. The pack members are a facade of family, community, and tradition. All the while, I am the invisible shackled soul, always reminded of my place.

"What’s the point? In two weeks I’ll be dead anyways!" I said. Her desperate eyes look at me like I am just throwing myself into the abyss. She goes to argue with me, but I stopped her. “I’m going to go for a walk to help me get tired.” I say, hugging her tightly. “I love you, mama wolf.” I whisper. She sighs, wrapping her arms around me.

“I love you too, baby cub.”

I step outside feeling the night air wrap around me like a cool embrace. The stars gleaming like distant diamonds scattered across black velvet. The moon lights my path as I step away from the quarters.

There was a time when I relished these moments of peace and quiet, but not anymore. Every night feels like a countdown, a reminder that my days are numbered. It's not because of fate or illness, but because of my refusal to accept Lucian's offer. He is a monster in every sense, and the thought of being his wife fills me with despair.

Out here, away from the pack’s oppressive hold, I can almost remember what it felt like to be free. The trees whisper their secrets to one another, their leaves rustling softly in the soft night breeze. I walk on, deeper into the woods, each step pulling me closer to my audacious plan. The moon watching silently. Its glow casting an elegant light, making the shadows dance around me.

I wish I could transform into my wolf. I've seen how freeing it is for them running through the woods. I sigh, feeling the cold creep its way into me. It's not hard with the raggy clothes I have to wear.

Two things are stopping me from changing. You only get your wolf at the age of eighteen is the first issue. Normally at two weeks before someone changes, it's an exciting time. Not for me though. I won't see my eighteenth birthday.

Even if I do and Lucian doesn't try to force me into marriage, my body still can not change. The iron collar around my neck binds me to this form. The magic imbedded keeps us in check. These collars are badges of our servitude.

The deeper into the woods I go, I find myself feeling guilty the more I think about my death. Two weeks is a long time filled with dread. There is only one way to reclaim my freedom, an unthinkable thought, but desperation claws at me like a wild animal.

I close my eyes, dreaming of the freedom I had before Lucian slaughtered my entire family. It's the only way I can take my revenge for my family.

I keep thinking about Harley. It feels as though thoughts of her have become a permanent fixture in my mind, wrapping around me like a shroud. From the moment I arrived at the pack, she’s been a beacon of warmth in a world filled with shadows. More than just a friend, she's been like a mother and a big sister to me. Yet, knowing her story only deepens the ache in my heart.

Harley has this incredible resilience that fascinates me. She can smile through everything, her laughter mingling with the distant howling of wolves in the night. But the truth behind her cheerful façade is a horror that grips me every time I think about it.

Her father sold her to Lucian as if she was no more than a useless piece of furniture. A twisted transaction done only to settle debts accumulated from nights spent drowning sorrows in bottles of cheap whiskey and cards.

I can't fathom how a parent could commit such a betrayal. The anger I feel towards him seeps into me every time I watch her happy demeanor falter. She told me how her father had blamed her for her mother's death. It is insane and so surreal, that the very child born from that tragedy should inherit all the blame, as if she’d somehow had a say in the matter. Her mother died during childbirth, and the horror of it all only feeds my need to unleash rage upon him. If I ever meet that bastard, I will rip his heart out and make him eat it.

I often wonder if there is something fundamentally broken in me as well, that I find myself harboring thoughts so dark. The world around me is cruel. It forces us to harden our hearts to survive. No matter how many thoughts I have of revenge for Harley, they become silent echoes fading into the backdrop of my own unending despair.

Two weeks remain before I celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Instead of anticipation and hope, all I can feel is an unquenchable heaviness, a finality that creeps closer with each breath. I wonder if it's like this for people on death row.

I keep going over the same scenarios in my mind. The thought of jumping off the pack's manor crosses my mind often. But Raven, another good friend and fellow slave, cautioned me that at four stories high, I might not achieve the clear end I seek. I would only have a fifty percent chance.

I can’t bear the idea of waking up with an even greater pain, a failure in my attempt to escape this anguish. Instead, I lean toward the idea of slashing my forearm from wrist to elbow. It seems to promise relief, a means to fall into a peaceful slumber.

Just then, a sudden rustle pulls me from my thoughts. My eyes find a figure emerging from the shadows. My heart races.

"Who’s there?" My voice is steadier than I felt, a practiced tone that masked the panic ravaging my insides.

The figure steps into the moonlight, tall and imposing, casting long shadows around him. I feel a chill crawl down my spine as I recognized the smirk plastered across his face. It is Caleb, Lucian’s strongest enforcer and the beta's son, and the embodiment of my nightmares.

The night deepens around us. The darkness thickened in response to his presence. My breath catches in my throat as I struggle to compose myself.

“What are you doing out here, little wolf?” He taunts, his voice smooth like silk but laced with danger. “Shouldn’t you be with your precious mama wolf?”

Caleb thrived on his role as the enforcer of Lucian’s will, and I was one of his favorite playthings. The memories of how he has toyed with me are etched into my soul, more torturous than a hellish nightmare.

“I’m just taking a walk.” I reply, trying to hide the fear surging within me.

With every confident step he takes towards me, I can feel my resolve slipping. His smile vanishes, replaced by an intensity that sends my heart plummeting. My body begins to tremble as sweat trickles down my back.

He is circling me, his eyes raking over every inch, as if I were a sumptuous feast laid out for his amusement. He moves closer, his presence overwhelming.

“Why?” His sinister voice washes over me like ice.

“I just couldn’t sleep.” I manage to mutter. But even as those words left my lips, I feel the weight of his gaze crushing me. Caleb circles around to stand behind me, his breath warm against my ear.

“I have a lot of ideas that can make you tired.” He chuckles sinisterly.

My heart thunders at his words. Tears stream down my face, the memories flashing in vivid detail. Each memory is an indelible mark on my soul.

“You know you shouldn’t be out here alone.” His voice makes my skin crawl. “It’s a dangerous world.” There is a moment of silence as he inspects me, his amusement dimming. “Get back to bed!"

I take off running back to the quarter. I don't even dare to question as to why he is showing me this act of kindness. Thankfully, I make it back without any trouble.

As I slip through the creaky door of our makeshift home, I’m greeted by the dim glow of a flickering oil lamp. Harley’s face, expressive and full of concern, reminds me how much I treasure her company.

"Are you alright?! Where have you been?!" Her voice cuts through the damp heaviness of the air, and I can see the worry etched in her brow.

“I was walking around the woods.” I respond, a smile creeping onto my face, masking everything that clings to the back of my mind. Harley’s eyes nearly pop out of her head, and I can’t help but chuckle.

"You were going to the waterfall! You know that place is cursed!" She exclaims, pulling her knees up to her chest and looking at me with wide, worried eyes. As if speaking the word “curse” could beckon the very dark magic that keeps so many of us shackled to our fates.

I sigh, lying down next to her on our worn mattress, a relic discarded by someone whose life had been more privileged. The scent of dust and despair lingers in this space, but it is our sanctuary, and here, I feel safe. Harley’s body warms the air around us as she scoots closer. We huddle together, sharing body heat in a world that offers us none.

“Do you ever think about what life could be like?” I ask, gazing at the crumbling ceiling above.

There’s a warped plank that allows me to see the stars on clear nights. The air is thick with promise and adventure, a stark contrast to the life of servitude I know.

“Every day.” She whispers.

“I want more than anything to be at the waterfall.” I confess softly as I hear Harley begin to snore.

The place has become a symbol for my yearning, a dream of escape, a glimpse of beauty that reminds me there’s more to life than simply existing day by day. The waterfall represents everything we long for. Hope. Freedom. Love. It pulses through me like a living current.

I always found solace at the waterfall, a hidden gem nestled deep within the forest. Just beyond the ancient trees, the sounds of the cascading water shimmers like a sweet whisper, calling me home. I do know, when I finally set my plan in motion, I want to be standing right there, surrounded by mist and shadows.

It’s strange how a place can feel like both a sanctuary and an omen. Yet, in this pack, it stands shrouded in an eerie aura, a remnant of a tale older than time itself. A tale of a powerful witch named Ingrid and her unfinished business with the spirits.

The legend of Ingrid was always more than just a story to scare children, it has history, steeped in violence and betrayal. Supposedly in the early 1100s, when the Norse landed on what is now called Newfoundland. The Beothuk tribe had greeted them warmly, except for one man, Machakw, a young warrior who looked into the future and saw omens of doom.

In a way, his fears were justified. He foresaw death trailing the white men like shadows in darkness. One by one, the settlers begin to disappear into the unknown. But destiny has its way of biting back, and Machakw soon stumbled upon Sven Fenrirson, a menacing figure with the blood of wolves coursing through his veins. Sven was part of the Bloodmoon Howlers pack, the largest werewolf tribe in the old world, and Machakw’s plans crumbled before he knew it.

In a clumsy attempt to end Sven silently, a sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down Sven’s spine, waking him just in time to counter Machakw’s attack.

The two men clashed, resulting in Machakw lying on the forest floor, bleeding out under a canopy of trees. With his last breath, amidst the disappearance of the stars over a treacherous betrayal, he vowed vengeance, his spirit ignited with centuries of rage against wolf kind. Thankfully, when Machakw's chief saw all this, he offered half his lands and winter surplus for this power.

Well, the Bloodmoon Howlers would send members over on boats. Eventually, members were able to find their mates in the tribe and forming a very powerful alliance with the Beothuk tribe. For over six hundred years there was peace.

Even when the government tried to run off the tribe, the once Bloodmoon Howlers now turned into the Mystic Forrest Pack, bought all the lands and gave the Beothuk lands back to them. Unfortunately, smallpox broke out among the Beothuk. Sadly any human tribe members died.

Well, Ingrid was a very powerful witch. She was part of the Sisters of the Eternal Light coven. It is the oldest coven and one of the five original covens, beginning from early Christianity and still holding strong to this day.

Ingrid's task was to go to the Mystic Forrest Pack and offer them the removal of the curse. You see witches love absorbing curses. It helps strengthen not only their magic but the magic of the coven.

No one truly knows how Ingrid became possessed by Machakw's cursed soul. All I can remember from my mother's stories is that it united witches and werewolves in an alliance when they killed Ingrid by drowning her at the waterfall. As a result, the urban legend of Machakw's curse came along.

So many stories I have heard over the years of my stay here. If they are true, I have never heard or seen anything in my time coming to the waterfall. Hell at this point of my life, as long as she keeps people away, then I won't bother her at all.

It's the reason why I want to die here. It's the last place people will look for me. Those few minutes could be me dying and finally be free or alive and imprisoned for life.

The moon is shining bright tonight. It only makes me hate it more. I curse at it every moment I see it. How can a goddess let any one of her people suffer like this?

The moment I die, I will demand answers from Selene. Whether or not she tells me the truth, I'm still going to knock her teeth down her throat!