Dreams
821 Words
Catherine knew she was dreaming.
She was staring at a wall of crystal clear water— it was wrapped around her on all four sides, cascading down and shimmering with every color imaginable. She could feel the drops from the spray against her face. She looked up, hoping to see something above her, but nothing was there— the circular waterfall surrounding her stretched up farther than her eyes could see, with nothing but a dark pit at the center above her head. Beneath her feet were river stones— smooth and rounded.
Tala? She reached out for her wolf in her head. What is this?
She got no response. She couldn’t feel Tala clearly, either— as if her wolf was there, but locked into a deep slumber. She could feel her beneath the surface, but she knew Tala couldn’t hear her.
Confused, her eyebrows pulled together.
She tenderly stuck her hand through the cascade of water, feeling a cool breeze on the other side. She shivered slightly.
Come, child. We haven’t time to waste.
The high, ringing voice sounded gently in Catherine’s ears, causing her to suck in a breath. The voice was.. familiar, somehow, yet not familiar at all. And it felt.. safe. Comforting.
Catherine couldn’t explain why— but unable to resist the urge, she stepped right through the cascading water.
And then she was falling.
Her stomach seized as she started free falling, nothing but pitch blackness around her. There was no bottom— nothing to grab onto, just an endless journey into the depths.
And then she started to see images.
Her vision warped, although her body was still falling— and she was seeing scenes in time before her, as tangible as if she were the one living them.
They flashed quickly— so quickly she couldn’t make sense of them. A little boy with black eyes, a woman with long dark hair— staring at him with cruel eyes full of hatred and malice.
Another image— Killian Black, his hands transformed into his wolf’s talons as he ripped out the throat of a teenage soldier, who looked to be only sixteen years old.
Flashes of violence danced in front of her eyes— all Killian, all of the helpless werewolves he’d slaughtered. She could practically feel the blood spray across her face as he mutilated them.
She was hyperventilating, sweat beading on her forehead, when the imagine changed and everything slowed.
Killian was on his knees in a grassy field, looking up with hatred at an ethereal woman in a beautiful white dress with solid white hair curled around her shoulders.
His voice, buttery and rich and seductive as always, echoed around her. “You cannot hate me as much as I hate myself.”
The woman stared at him, her pale and beautiful face blank. Finally, after a moment, she reached out to cradle his cheek, her skin glowing where it touched his.
And she turned her head and made eye contact with Catherine.
Catherine sucked in air, trying to breathe when she met eyes the color of Celestine. Practically luminescent— glowing the palest shade of blue.. just like hers.
The moon goddess.
I gave you a piece of me with those eyes, young wolf. Catherine could barely breathe now. It was the voice— the same one that told her to step through the waterfall.
The gift of discernment— you have eyes that see the soul. It’s for you to decide, child.. is he wicked, or is he lost?
Catherine bolted upright in bed, her chest heaving, covered in a sheen of sweat.
She’d had strange dreams her entire life— sometimes they felt like omens, but none this direct. She dug her nails into her palms so hard they broke the skin, blood trickling outside of her clenched fist.
She was being tested by the Goddess, and she didn’t know how to pass this test.
She’d known her entire life that she was blessed by the goddess. Some wolves had it— extremely rare— only two she’d heard of in her lifetime other than her. Sometimes it was a mark on the skin; a rare ability.. for Catherine, it was her eyes. She had eyes that mimicked the eyes of the moon goddess in every depiction she’d seen. She’d heart hushed whispers her entire life, claiming she was blessed by the moon. They say it means Celeste has a grander plan for you— some divine destiny you are meant to fulfill, but Catherine never felt grand or divine.
She didn’t want to be.
Catherine heard the knock on her door, and winced when the twins barged in, laughing. “Today’s the day! It’s time for the first spar. Rise and shine!”
Catherine watched the cuts on her palms heal as the goddess’s words echoed in her head.
Is he wicked, or is he lost?
- Writer
