CHAPTER 2: Mother’s Warning About Fate
1251 Words
The night before I left Surigao, my mother did not sleep.
Neither did I.
The wind was restless, carrying the scent of rain and old magic. The moon hid behind thin clouds, like it didn’t want to witness what was about to happen. I sat by the small wooden table, tracing the cracks on its surface, while my mother packed the few things I was allowed to bring.
“Travel light,” she said. “Memories are heavier than weapons.”
I watched her hands, steady, practiced, and scarred. These were the hands of a Luna who had once ruled beside an Alpha. These were the hands that raised me alone.
“Mother,” I said quietly, my voice betraying me. “What if I don’t find him?”
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned to face me, her eyes glowing faintly silver in the dim light. That glow always appeared when she spoke of fate, or fear.
“You will,” she said. “The moon never loses what belongs to it.”
I swallowed hard. “And if he doesn’t want to be found?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, she looked not like my mother, but like someone wounded long ago.
“Then you will learn who he truly is,” she replied. “And that knowledge will protect you better than any claw.”
She reached into a wooden chest beneath her bed and pulled out a small object wrapped in cloth. When she placed it in my palm, I felt its power immediately—cold, sharp, alive.
A crescent-moon pendant, carved from white stone, glowing softly.
“This belonged to your father,” she said. “He gave it to me the night he swore me as his Luna.”
My breath hitched. “Why give it to me now?”
“Because it will react to truth,” she answered. “And to lies.”
I stared at the pendant, my fingers trembling. “Did he ever love you?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
My mother closed her eyes.
“Yes,” she said after a long pause. “That’s what makes betrayal so dangerous.”
Silence filled the room, thick and painful.
Then her voice softened. “Janeth, listen to me carefully. Fate is not kind to those born with power. You will meet people who smile while sharpening their blades. Some will love you for what you are. Others will want to own you.”
“I can protect myself,” I said, though doubt gnawed at me.
She stepped closer and placed her forehead against mine. “Your strength is not the problem. Your heart is.”
My wolf stirred uneasily at her words.
“There will be a bond,” my mother continued. “One that pulls you toward love, and another that pulls you toward blood. You must never confuse the two.”
“What if they are the same?” I whispered.
Her grip tightened on my shoulders. “Then you must be strong enough to break what harms you, even if it shares your blood.”
The air grew cold.
Outside, a distant howl echoed through the mountains, answering something ancient and unseen. My chest tightened as Nyx shifted within me.
She speaks truth, my wolf murmured. And warning.
Before dawn, my mother braided my hair the way she always did before battle. She tied the pendant around my neck and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“Remember who you are,” she said. “You are not just his daughter. You are mine.”
I hugged her then, holding on like a child afraid of the dark. When I finally stepped outside, the sky was painted in pale gray, the mountains standing tall behind me like silent guardians.
I did not look back.
Because if I did, I might never leave.
As the road carried me away from Surigao, one thought echoed in my mind, heavy and unyielding:
Fate was waiting for me in Zamboanga.
And it was not coming alone.
The mountains disappeared behind me as the bus rolled forward.
I watched them through the dusty window until they became nothing more than shadows against the sky. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to look ahead. My mother had warned me.. "don’t look back."
Looking back made you weak.
Zamboanga City greeted me with noise.
Engines roared, horns blared, voices clashed in a language of impatience and haste. Tall buildings replaced trees, concrete swallowed the earth, and the salty scent of the sea mixed with something sharper, wolves.
So many wolves.
Nyx shifted uneasily inside me.
This place is claimed, she murmured. Every breath smells like dominance.
Southern Pack.
I stepped off the bus, my bag heavy on my shoulder, my mother’s moon pendant warm against my skin. Eyes lingered on me as I walked past—some curious, some dismissive, some openly hostile. A few noses flared slightly before their owners turned away, pretending they sensed nothing.
I kept my head down.
My mother taught me that in pack territory, confidence was survival—but arrogance was death.
The school loomed ahead, larger than I expected. Students gathered in clusters, laughing, complaining, living lives that felt unreal to me. I felt out of place immediately—like a stray wolf walking into a guarded den.
As I passed through the gates, laughter erupted behind me.
“Hey, mountain girl.”
I stiffened but didn’t turn around.
Another voice followed, sharp and amused. “She looks lost.”
Nyx growled softly. Ignore them.
I did.
Inside the halls, the air was thick with overlapping scents—alpha blood, beta sweat, human fear. Lockers slammed, footsteps echoed, and whispers followed me like shadows.
That was when I saw her.
She stood near the stairwell, surrounded by girls who watched her like she was the moon itself. Blonde hair perfectly styled. Uniform crisp. Her posture screamed authority.
Her eyes met mine.
She smiled.
It wasn’t friendly. It was measuring. Like she had already decided what I was worth.
Danger, Nyx warned.
I looked away, heart pounding, and kept walking.
Class passed in a blur. I answered when called on, stayed quiet when mocked, and pretended not to hear the murmurs about my accent, my clothes, my silence.
By lunch, I was exhausted.
I sat alone under a tree in the courtyard, the city noise pressing in from all sides. I closed my eyes, breathing the way my mother taught me—slow, controlled.
You are not weak, Nyx whispered. You are simply surrounded.
That was when someone stopped in front of me.
“Mind if I sit?”
I opened my eyes.
A boy stood there, tall but unassuming, his presence calm—almost invisible compared to the others. His scent was strange. Not weak. Not strong.
Different.
“Go ahead,” I said cautiously.
He smiled, gentle and sincere. “I’m Andrew.”
Something about his eyes made my wolf pause.
Not growl.
Not retreat.
Just… watch.
As he sat beside me, laughter echoed from across the courtyard. I glanced up just in time to see the blonde girl again, her gaze locked on us, her smile gone.
Her eyes were cold now.
And for the first time since leaving Surigao, I understood something clearly:
Zamboanga City was not just where my answers lived.
It was where my enemies, and my fate, had already found me.
- Writer
