The Lykos Chronicles

7 - Myths and folklore

Moira

“Wow,” Ronan gasped as we stood at the water’s edge.

Our walk around the pack, as I introduced Ronan to friends and showed him what our little village held, had been wonderful. It didn’t matter that Ronan would be the future King; he was such a down-to-earth man. He was thrilled to meet new people and listened when I explained our ways and traditions.

“Ronan, have you ever heard of the Kelpies?” My eyes sparkled with mischief as I spoke. Ronan and I stood side by side, the cool evening air brushing our faces, the tranquil loch stretching out before us like a mirror to the star-studded sky.

We had little time left before my brother and Bonnie’s mating ceremony. But the time we had left was special. I knew Ronan would be leaving the following morning, and I was still to tell him that I couldn’t go with him.

Part of me wanted to, but the other half of me couldn’t bear to leave everything I had ever known for strange lands.

What would I do in a place I knew nothing about?

How would I adjust to their customs?

Who would I be there?

‘You’d be Queen, Moira.’ My Lycan said.

‘I’m not Queen material, Morag. I would mess up, and I would never wish to cause shame to Ronan.’

‘You would not cause shame to anyone, Moira. Ronan was made for you, and he would help you learn all there is to know about becoming Queen. But that aside, can you honestly let him go?’

My heart and gut ached. I was torn when I should not have been. It should have been easy to leave with my mate and never look back. But it was not. Not then, at least. I could not answer my Lycan, and she sighed inside my head but said nothing else.

“Only in passing,” Ronan replied to my question, his curiosity piqued. “They are some sort of Scottish water spirit?”

I chuckled softly, my hand playing with a lock of auburn hair that had escaped my ponytail. “More than that. Much more,” I said, my voice carrying a hint of the Highlands. “Let me tell ye how it all began.”

The moon hovered above the horizon, casting a silver glow upon the loch. A gentle breeze whispered through the surrounding trees, carrying with it the faint scent of heather. Ronan leaned in, eager to hear the tale that I was about to weave.

I could smell his scent so strongly, and my eyes almost rolled in desire. There was no denying how attracted to Ronan I was. Not just because of the mate bond, but everything about him appealed to me. Handsome, intelligent, and so incredibly kind.

How could I not want him for my own?

“Long ago,” I began. “Before living beings even knew to fear the waters, Sleipnir, the eight-legged steed of Odin, wandered the earth. He was a creature of legend, swift and powerful, the son of Loki. One day, his journey led him to this very loch.”

My gaze grew distant as I spoke, my voice painting a picture of a time when myth and reality danced together in the shadows of the world. The stories were legends within our pack, and I had imagined them so often when I was a child that I could almost see them happening before my eyes.

“Sleipnir looked into the loch, and what did he see? A shadow, just beneath the surface, playing in the waters. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered. A creature of the deep, one that called to him with a Siren’s allure.”

I looked at Ronan, staring at me while engrossed in my tale. It made me smile because no man other than my brother had ever listened to me so intently before. This was just another reason I was falling in love with him.

With a dramatic flourish of my hand, I continued, “And so, the great steed waved his mighty hoof, and from the depths, the shadow grew legs and emerged. It was the first Kelpie, born from the whispers of the water and the breath of Asgard. With a flick of his hand, a male Kelpie was born. The two were mates, and many offspring would sprout from their loins.”

Ronan’s eyes searched the still surface of the loch as if expecting to see the mythical creature break through at any moment. “What happened to them?” He asked, his voice hushed.

“Ah,” I smiled. “That’s where the Witch comes in. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First, you must know that the Kelpies were creatures of beauty, with coats as black as the night and eyes that shimmered like the stars above. Sleipnir would leave them behind as he returned to his duties with Odin, but he would return whenever he could, though not often.”

The air grew thick with anticipation; the only sound that could be heard was the occasional lapping of water against the shore. I took a deep breath, my eyes shining with the excitement of the story I was about to share. I had told the story many times to the pack’s cubs, yet the adults would tell them to pay me no mind. They were just stories, after all. But they were so much more than stories to me.

“The Witch,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “A lonely woman, who lived beyond the Highlands, saw the female Kelpie alone without her mate or babies and knew that she could be a tool of great power. Or a weapon in the wrong hands.”

With each word, I sensed Ronan could feel himself drawn further into the world I described, the ancient magic of the loch seeming to pulse just beneath the surface of the modern world.

“What did she do?” Ronan breathed.

My gaze grew intense. “She waited,” I said as my eyes locked with Ronan’s. “For the right moment to reveal herself and to make the Kelpie an offer it couldn’t refuse.

“The Witch, whose name had been lost to the annals of time, approached the Kelpie with a cunning smile. ‘Your beauty is unrivalled,’ She crooned, her voice sweet as honey. ‘But your power is untamed, like a wild river without banks. Very soon, others will come for your children. They will use and bend them to their will, and you will lose them forever. Why not serve me, and I will show you how to wield your power and save your children?’

“The Kelpie, young and naïve, was intrigued. It had never felt the touch of malice, nor had it understood the concept of power. It simply knew that it was different from the other creatures that called the loch home. She was loved and loved her mate and children. Like any mother, her need to protect her children overtook all sense and reason. And so, she listened to the Witch’s whispers, her promises of greatness, and her assurances of protection.

“The Witch taught the Kelpie the art of illusion and temptation. She showed it how to lure humans to their doom in the guise of a lost pony. The creature grew in strength and cunning, its eyes now gleaming with a darker intent. It became a creature feared by all who knew its true form, a symbol of the loch’s mysterious depths.

“The story became folklore. However, the folklore,” I reminded Ronan with a knowing look. “Was not entirely true. For while Kelpies could indeed be dangerous, they were not inherently evil. Like all things,” I mused. “They are a reflection of the world around them. And sometimes, that world is cruel.”

Ronan nodded thoughtfully, the gravity of my words sinking in. He looked back at the loch, wondering what secrets it held. “And what of the Witch?” He asked, his voice a murmur in the quiet night.

My smile grew sad thinking about it. “The Witch grew old, and her power waned, as all things do. But she had set in motion a legacy that would echo through the centuries. The Kelpies, once free spirits of the water, had become tainted by her influence. Some say she still lingers in these parts, watching over her creations, ensuring they never forget their purpose.”

The loch’s surface rippled, a disturbance that could have been a fish or the stirring of something more. I watched Ronan shake his head as if he felt a shiver run down his spine, the story feeling eerily real in the moonlit silence.

“But remember,” My hand rested gently on Ronan’s arm, and he looked at me. “Not every Kelpie is a monster. Some still hold the purity of their origins, the joy of Sleipnir’s creation. It’s just that the darker tales are the ones we tell to keep our children from the water’s edge.”

“But how could Sleipnir allow such a thing to happen to his creations?”

I smiled because Ronan was so adorable. He asked questions as a child would, but I did not mind at all.

“It is said that Sleipnir returned to this place and gave the Kelpies a choice. Either run with the Witch and forever suffer the consequences or return to him and be free. Some stayed with the Witch, but many returned to their God.”

“But what happened to the female Kelpie and her mate?”

I sighed. “The female went mad with the power she gained, and her mate left. It is said that he did not agree with her ways and wanted nothing to do with her any longer. Half their offspring joined their mother, and the other half left with their father. Thus creating both villainous and righteous Kelpies.”

“Wow,” Ronan mumbled while nodding his head. “How can we tell the difference?” He asked, breaking the stillness. “Between the Kelpies that are good and those that have turned?”

I tilted my head, my expression thoughtful. “It’s in their eyes,” I said, my voice barely a murmur. “The innocent ones hold a light, a spark that even the darkest waters cannot extinguish. But the ones who have chosen the “Witch’s path... their eyes are as cold and as deep as the loch itself.”

My words lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the duality that existed even in myths.

Ronan looked into my eyes, and I found comfort in the warmth that was absent from the loch’s gaze. “And what do we do if we encounter one?” He questioned, the edge of his curiosity sharpened by a hint of fear.

My smile was gentle, but my eyes were fierce. “If you ever encounter one, you would indeed be a very lucky man.” Kelpies were not as widespread as they would become in the future, and not much was known about them outside the myth. If a person saw one, they needed to proceed with caution. “You must be wise,” I instructed. “Kelpies are clever, but they can be outsmarted. If it’s one of the lost ones, offer it kindness, but beware, it’s trickery. Sometimes, a kind heart is the strongest defence against the shadows.”

Our conversation was interrupted by the distant howl of a lone wolf echoing through the valley. It was a mournful sound that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand forgotten stories.

Ronan looked into my eyes and gasped. “I see it in your eyes.”

“See what?” I whispered, though I knew to what he referred.

“The Kelpie from your tale.” His eyes were transfixed on me. “How is that possible?”

I saw no reason to lie to the other half of my soul. “On the day I was born, my mother bathed in this very loch as most of the pack did and still do. Labour snuck upon her, and there was no time for her to run home. Labour was so fast she says it lasted no longer than three minutes. So, she had no choice but to give birth in the water.

“Her screams could be heard far and wide. As my father and some of the others raced toward my mother, I slipped from her body, and she wasn’t quick enough to catch me. I sank to the bottom of the loch."

"What?" Ronan gasped while laying his hand on my face. “What happened, Moira?”

“The story goes that my father dived into the loch to look for me. With the strength of his Lycan, Father continued to swim deeper and deeper. He was almost out of air when he saw a giant black Kelpie swimming toward the surface, using his nose to lift me into the air.

“Father was so shocked, but he swam to the surface just in time to see the Kelpie hand me to my mother. The Kelpie transformed into a large man who smiled at my mother when she thanked him repeatedly for saving her baby girl. Father was curious to know how I had survived. The Kelpie told my parents, as the rest of the pack watched, that as I had never breathed air, I was able to survive underwater long enough for him to save me.

“Father couldn’t thank the Kelpie enough. But the Kelpie simply smiled, kissed my head, and spoke in a language unfamiliar to the pack. A light shone all around me as the Kelpie blessed me.”

“Blessed you?”

I nodded at Ronan. “Yes. He gave me the ability to breathe underwater, though I cannot breathe under saltwater.”

“Remind me not to throw you in the sea.”

I laughed loudly while playfully slapping his chest. “I should hope you wouldnae want to do such a thing.”

He stroked my face with the back of his hand. “I would never hurt you, Moira. Please believe me.”

I smiled. “I know ye wouldnae hurt me. I can feel it.”

He took my face between his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. I bit my lip to hide the smile. “You are so beautiful.”

“You said that before.”

He smiled. “And I will say it every day for the rest of our lives.”

Ice filled my veins, and I closed my eyes. I had to say something now. It could not wait any longer. I had minutes before my brother’s ceremony, and I had no idea if I would get another chance before Ronan left in the morning.

“I want to meet your Lycan,” Ronan whispered. “I want you to meet mine.”

Ronan had every right to want to meet Morag, and the Gods knew I wanted to meet his Lycan. However, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to string him along any longer.

“Ronan, there’s something we need to talk about.”

He kept his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, and his chest heaving. My heart was breaking with what I was about to do, and tears fell from my eyes.

“Please don’t say it,” He whispered, which further broke my heart. “Please don’t.”

His whispered pleas tore through me, and I knew at that moment that nothing would ever be the same again.