Chosen by the Fates

A Prayer Answered

Aisling ~

I couldn’t be sure I was right, and I didn’t feel comfortable sharing my plan with Cian until I was sure. What I was about to do, by all rights, was pretty insane. I am just the girl who doesn’t remember anything, who might be a traitor, and who hasn’t slept in far too long. It all might sound like sleep deprivation, or faulty logic and he might insist I stay. I just don’t have the energy to argue why I should leave right now.

Especially since the brothers had already explained magic is mostly extinct on our world.

And not to mention how it will look to Sol if I’m wrong. I cringe at the thought.

So instead, I explained to Tiffa and Cian that I needed to go get stronger coffee and to get out of the penthouse just to keep myself awake.

Almost as if she could sense something was up, Tiffa agreed as long as I let her drive. I didn’t argue, she had actually managed to get some sleep during all of this, and because of everything going on I didn’t want to be driven by a stranger. Cian would stay behind to keep watch for his brothers.

After explaining everything to Tiffa in the car she just laughed unexpectedly. I can still hear her voice on the way here, “Listen girl, I’ve got your back. I’ll hit up the drive through, and then be parked over here if you need me.” Tiffa parked a ways away, where she could keep an eye out.

When I finally push through the door, the ringing sound makes me jump. Every one of my senses feels raw with so little sleep. I am overwhelmed with the intoxicating scent of sage, pine, and the forest just after it rains.

The scent brings up fond childhood memories of hiking through the forest and playing in the underbrush. A time when my friends and I used the woods for our games of tag, and sticks were our swords for duels.

My heartbeat picks up, my skin feels a little too warm. I chalk my wandering memories up to sleep deprivation and focus my attention on the crazy task I am here for.

I can see what looks like Sol with his back to the door. He has left the seat I like near the fireplace open, and is sitting beside it. I feel my heart swell with appreciation, even knowing he couldn’t have possibly known to do that on purpose. He’s a player. You’re here to talk about the wolf. I remind my sleepy wandering focus.

Ordering happens faster than I expect, and coffee finally in hand I take a deep breath before facing him.

I am not prepared.

When my eyes meet his, my heart stops. My skin feels as if it’s on fire. The part of me that I am no longer shoving down rushes through me in elation.

Had I forgotten how beautiful he is?

His scent floods my senses, and my mind almost instantly feels calmer as he holds my gaze.

My focus is entirely on him. His impossibly deep blue eyes. The lines of his jaw as he sips his coffee. The motion of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. The rise and fall of his chest with each breath. The curves and edges of his body, and his languid posture.

It feels as if I haven’t seen him for decades, but it’s been a few weeks at best.

I can’t bear the thought of leaving his side again. But Why?

His unusually cold smile snaps me out of whatever moment it was. It feels disingenuous. I don’t know why; I just know the cool nature of it reminds me too much of Ashleigh’s walls. My heart squeezes in my chest.

I’m too tired for all these extraordinary things, and I can feel it expressed in my own attempt to return his smile in greeting.

Something shifts behind his eyes, his features soften. His baritone voice kickstarts my heart, “Aisling, I owe you- “

I hold up my free hand. He doesn’t owe me anything.

No one does.

When I walked through that door, it was with one goal. To embrace an insane theory, and to ask him for help I haven’t done anything to deserve. Help he may have already given without asking for any recognition, or thanks.

 “Stop.” My voice is as tired as I feel. “Please let me speak first?”

Nodding, he takes another sip of his coffee. My heartbeat picks up.

Glancing around, I realize I don’t feel comfortable doing this where anyone could overhear. He might not be honest with me at all, but he’s even less likely to if others are around. And more than that, if I am wrong, I don’t need anyone to witness me being off my rocker.

I sigh, bundling my scarf even closer, even though I feel as if I am burning up, “Walk with me?”

Walking out, I can feel his eyes on me. His footfalls are soft and quiet even on the crunching snow outside. The cold ravages my bare hands, drawing the heat away rapidly. Navigating my cup, I begin to pull on my gloves. Even being warm inside, I get cold too quickly not to bundle up.

Wordlessly, Sol takes my cup from me so I can finish putting my gloves on. He really is so thoughtful. I shush that part of my mind. I don’t need any distractions from what I’m about to try to talk about.

He returns my coffee to me, and I lead him to the forest at the far end of the parking lot. There is a trailhead here that I sometimes enjoy because it is rarely used, even by the locals. Most people don’t even seem to remember it is here.

Sure enough, the snow is untouched by any tracks.

“This should be good.” I mutter, more to myself. I lead us a way down the path, gathering my courage. Who cares what he thinks if I’m wrong? I never thought I’d see him again anyway, right?

The crunching of snow under our feet is the only sound for several long minutes. It gives me time to build up arguments for why I need to go out on a limb and ask what I am about to.

Finally, I get out, “This is going to sound insane…”

I can’t think of the words. I need to. I need to just spit it out. Are you a werewolf? “I… Are you-“I stop, spinning to lock eyes with him.

As our gaze meets, my heart picks up pace. Every part of me feels pulled toward him. Deja Vou fills me, drawing to the surface of my mind the memory of a dream. One where I am in my nightgown, surrounded by similar woods. Across from me is Sol, naked, every part of him bathed in moonlight. And then we are running.

I can’t think.

He steps closer, “Am I?”

My breath catches in my throat, my heart rate picks up.

My exhaustion causes me to sway on my feet, my knees feel weak as I star into the depths of his oceanic eyes. He is looking at me in a way that pools heat between my thighs and twists my stomach into fluttering knots.

It is his scent that brings my focus back. Say it.

“A wolf?”

A startled laugh escapes him. Followed by a long and thoughtful gaze, almost as if he is appraising me.

His voice is level, “That’s an unusual question. May I ask what prompted it?”  

My heart falters. Was I wrong? I chew at my lower lip, eyes darting away. If I am wrong, how do I find the wolves? Because that is my backup plan. With my final plan being to try and dive into the dreaming myself somehow.

What else am I supposed to do about being a gateway to actual real monsters?

If Sionainn’s hypothesis is right, that is what I am now, Isn’t it?

My thoughts spiral until I feel a warm pressure brush against my shoulders, startling me back to present. Sol is standing close, his hands stroking my shoulders as if to offer some measure of comfort.

I say what I am thinking out loud, “You aren’t wearing gloves…”

His reply is quiet, “No.” His low voice sooths my worries. I know what I felt in my dreams.

And I know those dreams can be very real.

Something my dad used to say tugs at me, “You need to give trust to earn trust, Aisling.”

Mustering my emotional courage, I follow that advice, “They said it wasn’t possible. But I still believed it was. Because every time I see you, all I can think of is the golden wolf. It’s like every part of me just knows.”

Is it just my imagination? Or did the depths of his blue eyes …just glint gold?  

His expression gives nothing away, his voice is a neutral tone of questioning, “They who? Golden wolf?”

I heave a sigh. They say people hallucinate when deprived of sleep for too long. “The brothers.

It’s a wolf I’ve seen near our house, and in the- “I hesitate. How can I even trust this inexplicable part of myself to be right about Sol, if some other supernatural part of me is a traitor that turned me into a monster gateway?

Because I don’t have much of a choice. I gather my nerves and continue, “– in my dreams. The trouble is, I don’t know how to find the wolf, and I need to.”

“Why?” His inquiry is quiet.

I find myself staring at his question. He isn’t looking at me like I’m crazy. Instead, he is regarding me with serious regard to my question.

Is he being polite again? Just like that first night. I realize I don’t trust myself, or my ability to read him. I was wrong about him before, why wouldn’t I be again? “I’m sorry. This all must sound so weird. You met with me to apologize, and here I am leading you into the woods to ask you nonsensical things.

I don’t know what I was thinking…” My weak explanation trails off with a nervous laugh. I feel closer to tears than I’d like, and suddenly I just want to hide under a rock somewhere. 

What he says next cuts my insecurities short, “I know of the wolf you speak of- “

He knows the wolf. But how?

His baritone is gentle, and solemn as he finishes,“-but I need to know why you are looking, Aisling.” 

Hearing my name out loud in his voice stirs that part of me that is constantly calling out for him. My pulse quickens, my skin feels like fire. I feel something within me move, and I feel something else brush against it. Something that feels exactly the same way Sol feels in my dreams.

My heart stops, and I know without a doubt, regardless of whatever he is or isn’t sharing. It’s him.

My next words spill out of me, “I think the wolf is the only one able to fight the void.”