Misguided Wolves

6. Stars and Prophecies

In the shimmering basin, scenes flickered like memories from a distant past. Hova’s voice, steady and ancient, wove through the images as she explained their meaning.

“Long ago, the ancients spoke of the sun and moon falling in love, bound inseparably. But one day, the moon betrayed the sun by lying with the morning star…”

Elliott rolled his eyes, shifting impatiently. “What’s this got to do with anything? It’s just a bedtime story for pups.”

Hova’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “Patience, young wolf. All will become clear.” She continued, “After the betrayal, the sun and moon were doomed to part, the moon forever chasing the sun. Yet, during an eclipse, they briefly reunite.”

As Hova spoke, the basin’s water depicted the Moon Goddess and Fenrir, their forms radiant yet tragic. Elliott’s attention sharpened—Fror revered the Moon Goddess, while Logi followed Fenrir, the sun’s avatar. Two stars appeared: the morning star, a male with a spear, and the evening star, a female with a golden staff, both encircled by serpents. Hova glanced at Elliott, her glowing eyes piercing, before continuing.

“There’s more to the tale. The morning and evening stars, brother and sister, craved chaos over peace.” She waved her hand, revealing the spear-wielding man. “The morning star hungered for war and violence.” Another wave showed the woman with the staff. “The evening star thrived on discord. Together, they schemed to sunder the sun and moon forever. The evening star urged her brother to seduce the moon, and he succeeded, shattering the celestial harmony.”

The water flashed with images of a devastating war, kingdoms torn apart. Hova’s hand moved again, showing Skoll’s present-day lands. “Prophecy foretells that the sun and moon will have another chance to mend the past, restoring harmony to the world.” Another wave revealed a bloody conflict erupting across the continent. “But not all is as it seems. The two stars will return, sowing discord to ignite another war.”

The basin shifted to Logi’s castle in its prime, its stone walls gleaming, a stark contrast to its current weathered state. “The first king and queen of Logi built this castle not for themselves but for the sun and moon’s return, a sanctuary where they might reunite and heal the land. Over generations, they chose guardians to protect Logi until that day.”

Hova took Jackson’s hand, her smile warm. “This is why Jackson rose to power. Trained since childhood, he is the most promising guardian yet.”

Jackson blushed, rubbing his neck. “Only because I had a great teacher.”

Kyle cleared his throat, skeptical. “So why tell us this? What’s the point?”

Hova’s glowing eyes locked onto Elliott, her hand grazing his cheek, her touch like a spark to his soul. “Because you are special, young wolf. I cannot reveal all, but trust your wolf, Leo. Those close to you may not be what they seem. Choose your allies wisely.”

Elliott’s brows furrowed. He mind-linked Kyle, “These two are nuts. We need to watch our backs.”

Kyle nodded subtly, his eyes wary. Hova sighed, shaking her head as if she heard their thoughts. “Stubborn, but clarity will come.” Her symbols and eyes dimmed, and she replaced her blindfold, retreating to her shadowed chamber without another word.

Jackson grinned, undeterred. “I know it’s a lot, but Hova’s wisdom is true. She’s ancient, despite her looks—she raised me from a pup!” He clapped his hands.

“Enough heavy talk. Let’s drink and relax!”

He led them to a cozy sitting room, its worn couches warmed by a crackling fireplace. They traded tales of hunts, past loves, and family, the mead loosening their tongues. Hours later, Kyle passed out, snoring softly. Jackson draped a blanket over him, yawning. As he shuffled toward the door, he paused, glancing back at Elliott. “We may sound mad, but we’re your allies. We’ll follow you as our future king.”

Elliott froze, stunned by Jackson’s words. His mind spun as Jackson left. Needing air, he wandered toward the castle gardens, but the apple-cinnamon scent hit him again, stronger now, laced with warmth like a hearth in autumn. Leo’s excitement surged, tail practically wagging. “Follow it!” Leo urged. “Find the source!”

Elliott grinned. “Hova did say to trust you.” He followed the scent, each step intensifying its pull, until it led to the kitchen. Through a cracked door, he heard voices—a woman’s, light and angelic, and a man’s, gruff with worry.

“You’re such a worrywart,” the woman giggled. “I’m fine. Tomorrow, we’ll meet His Majesty and sort things out.”

“Fine?” the man retorted. “That poison nearly killed you. Your father would’ve had my head if I lost you. And you’re already trusting a stranger? Things are looking up—your father sounded hopeful.”

Before Elliott could hear more, a small hand touched his. He jumped, startled, not sensing Hova’s approach. “F*ck!”

Hova pressed a finger to her lips. “Hush, child. It’s not time yet. Sleep now—your fate awaits when the sun and moon align.” Her voice was a lullaby, and Elliott’s eyelids grew heavy. He didn’t know how he reached his room, but he collapsed onto the bed, sleep claiming him as the scent of apples lingered in his dreams.