Chapter 6
1264 Words
“IZZY!” Ivan yelped, tossing his book into the air as his little sister popped into existence right beside him.
Isaldora laughed, a bright, bubbling sound, her small frame practically glowing with mischief. “I’m getting better,” she grinned, eyes sparkling.
“That’s not better, that’s annoying,” he groaned, stomping off toward the royal garden. “Mom! She’s doing it again!”
Isaldora's mother, Queen Dorathe Aetherwyn, radiant in a flowing emerald gown, looked up from her book, her serene smile dimpling her ageless face.
“Isaldora,” she called, her voice soft but amused, “must you always startle your brother?”
“I’m practicing,” Isaldora said with a twirl, her golden hair catching the light. “Besides—” she vanished in a blink and reappeared behind her mother “—he’s fun when he’s mad.”
Ivan tackled her from behind, making her squeal. “Got you!” tackling her to the grass. She squealed and teleported a few feet away without missing the beat, reappearing with a triumphant giggle.
“Cheater!” Ivan laughed, lunging again, and the two tumbled across the garden until a tall shadow fell over them.
Her father, King Doewan, stood watching them with silver eyes that softened at the sight.
“So fierce, until your brother catches you,” he teased as Isaldora scrambled into his arms, still breathless with laughter.
“She’s too powerful for her age,” Ivan huffed, brushing grass from his tunic.
“Ah, but power is nothing without spirit,” Doewan said, resting a hand on his daughter’s head. “And she has more spirit than all of us combined.”
Isaldora’s smile was so bright it seemed the whole garden basked in it. The golden warmth of that moment lingered—her family’s laughter echoing like music—until the edges of the memory began to dissolve. The colors bled into shadow, the sounds fading into silence.
Isaldora stood now in the center of a clearing under a vast, star-pricked sky, her breath forming pale clouds in the cold air. Across the open field, a massive white wolf loomed, its fur gleaming like frost. She could almost feel the ground tremble beneath its weight. Even at this distance, she could imagine its sheer size if it drew near.
The wolf lifted its head and howled—a deep, raw sound that ached in her chest as though it carried pain too heavy for words.
She took a step toward it. The wolf’s head snapped toward her, eyes locking on hers and she froze. Those eyes… they were unlike anything she’d ever seen before, a shade that didn’t belong to this world. Unique. Hypnotic. Familiar.
She didn’t even realize she was moving until the wolf charged toward her, swift as a storm wind. Her breath hitched, strength draining from her limbs instantly. She stumbled back, hitting the ground hard just as the wolf leapt—fangs bared—her eyes closed—
—and next moment her eyes flew open to the dim ceiling of her room, looming in the faint glow of moonlight. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, the echo of the wolf’s gaze still burned into her mind.
She had been seeing that white wolf for two years now, and still, she couldn’t decipher its meaning. She didn’t know why she kept seeing it, why those eyes felt like they could strip her bare. They were familiar—achingly so. She couldn’t place them, couldn’t remember ever looking into eyes like that, and yet… she knew them. Somehow.
She exhaled slowly, letting the pounding in her chest settle before turning her head toward the clock. It was still too early.
Pushing herself up, she tied her hair into a messy bun and swung her legs over the side of the bed, and got up, feet brushing against the cool floor, and wandered towards the window.
Isaldora sat on the cushioned ledge by the window, knees drawn up, her gaze fixed on the full moon.
And then, as it always did in these still hours, the ache crept in. That sharp, hollow, the kind no amount of time could dull. She missed them. Every day, she missed them. Their voices, their laughter, the way the halls of home used to feel alive.
She could almost feel them—not in any tangible way, but in the soft, impossible warmth that came only in dreams.
In those dreams, they laughed. They held her. The world felt whole again, if only for as long as she stayed asleep. And every time she woke, the emptiness hit sharper, like falling through ice.
Grief stirred in her chest, but she didn’t cry. She never did anymore. Her eyes felt long emptied of tears, as if they had all been spent on that one night.
A heavy sigh left her and she stood moving to the bathroom. She needed a shower to settle her thoughts.
The bathroom’s heat welcomed her as she turned on the shower, steam rising quickly. She stepped out of her clothes and into the glass enclosure, letting the water beat against her skin.
When she stepped out, she reached for a towel and caught her reflection in the fogged mirror. At first, she barely noticed—but then she froze.
Her breath hitched.
She rubbed her hand on the mirror only to stare at eyes she always hid under the glamour. And also the same eyes from her dreams, the ones the wolf had.
Moonlight silver-violet. The most unique shade indeed, and now it clicked why they felt familiar because she had the same eyes.
But it didn’t make sense. No, it was impossible. Her thoughts were jumbling. She looked back at the mirror. The resemblance was undeniable, yet how could a wolf’s eyes mirror hers so perfectly?
She tore her gaze away, jaw tightening until it ached, forcing her lungs to draw in steady, controlled breaths. The steam rose between her hands, warm and soft against her skin, but it couldn’t chase away the cold coil of unease winding through her chest. She didn’t have the time for puzzling over riddles. Not when her list of enemies was still too long, and still had names left to cross off.
Each one would fall in turn, and she would watch them break as her coven had been broken. Focus was her weapon—and she would not set it down, not for anything.
Pushing the thoughts aside she stepped out and glanced at the clock and sighed. Yup, still too early for anyone sane to be awake.
She sighed, knowing there was no point trying to go back to bed. Sleep wasn’t coming. So without bothering to change out of her bathrobe, she wandered into the kitchen.
She started making coffee—something she liked to do for herself. The simple ritual always steadied her. The hiss and low hum of the machine filled the silence, and the warm, rich, dark aroma began to curl through the air, wrapping around her like an invisible blanket.
Her shoulders eased without her noticing. She closed her eyes, breathing in deep, and exhaled slowly.
Yes. This. This was what she needed.
Taking her coffee, she settled into the chair by the window again, fingers wrapped around the cup, and sipped, the bitter taste enveloping her. Today was the day she would step into the public eye. The day Aether would show its face. She took another sip staring out at the breaking rays of dawn.
- Writer
