Chapter 16
2121 Words
Chapter Sixteen – Old Friends and Older Promises
Christa’s P.O.V.
The Council Chamber remained silent.
Anna stood between Carlos and me.
Her shoulders were squared.
Her chin was high.
The silver remnants of Aaliyah’s broken concealment spell shimmered faintly across the curve of her exposed stomach.
No one looked away.
No one could.
Marcus Blackwood slowly rose from his chair.
“I believe…”
His voice echoed through the chamber.
“…that today’s proceedings have become larger than the Council anticipated.”
He looked around the room.
“Several months ago, reports began arriving from every corner of our territories.”
He gestured toward the stacks of documents spread across the table.
“Unexplained magical disturbances.”
“Ancient sites awakening.”
“Sacred lands responding.”
He paused.
“We believed those events concerned werekind alone.”
Marcus slowly shook his head.
“We were wrong.”
He lifted his hand toward the great chamber doors.
“They may enter.”
The massive oak doors groaned open.
Every Alpha turned.
Every Luna followed.
Two figures entered side by side.
The first was an elderly gentleman whose posture remained impossibly straight despite the polished black cane resting in his hand.
Silver hair.
Crimson eyes.
An impeccably tailored charcoal suit.
His face was lined with centuries.
His gaze with millennia.
The chamber stood.
Every Alpha.
Every Luna.
Even Marcus.
The old vampire inclined his head politely.
“Please…”
His voice was deep and refined.
“…sit before these old bones decide they’ve walked far enough.”
A ripple of restrained laughter passed through the room.
Even I smiled.
Marcus gestured toward the empty chair prepared beside the Council table.
“Council Elder Lucien Valerius.”
Lucien acknowledged the room with a single nod before taking his seat.
His eyes found Anna only briefly.
Then drifted to the child she carried.
Something unreadable crossed his face.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Beside him walked a woman who appeared no older than sixty.
Though every person in the room knew appearances meant very little.
Long silver braids rested over a forest-green cloak.
A worn leather satchel hung from one shoulder.
Ink stained her fingertips.
Several rolled parchments poked from the top of her bag.
She looked less like the most respected witch alive…
…and more like a professor who had wandered into the wrong building.
Marcus smiled.
“High Matriarch Elowen Ashbourne.”
Unlike Lucien…
Elowen ignored protocol completely.
She looked around the chamber once.
Then her eyes landed on me.
Her entire face softened.
“Well…”
She smiled warmly.
“There’s the little girl who refused to stay little.”
The room went still.
I blinked.
“You know me?”
She laughed.
“I knew you before you could know anyone.”
She stepped closer.
“I knew your mother.”
Every sound in the chamber disappeared.
Very few people ever spoke about Christa’s mother.
Fewer still had actually known her.
Elowen studied my face for a long moment.
“You have her eyes.”
I swallowed.
“You really knew her?”
“I did.”
“We became friends many years before you were born.”
Her smile became wistful.
“I spent several days here with her before she went into labor.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“She wouldn’t stop talking about you.”
The chamber disappeared around me.
All I could hear was Elowen’s voice.
“She showed me the nursery.”
“Asked me whether wolves made good mothers.”
A soft chuckle escaped her.
“I told her no one truly knows until they’re holding their child.”
My eyes burned.
Elowen reached out and gently squeezed my hand.
“The last time I saw your mother…”
“…she asked me a favor.”
I stared at her.
“She said…”
Elowen’s own eyes glistened.
“‘If you ever meet my daughter as a woman…’”
She smiled.
“‘Tell her I loved her long before I ever held her.’”
I closed my eyes.
For a moment…
I wasn’t Alpha.
I wasn’t La Diabla.
I wasn’t the woman who had just sentenced a guard to die.
I was simply a daughter.
One who had spent her entire life wondering what her mother might have sounded like.
Carlos quietly rested his hand against the small of my back.
Grounding me.
Elowen straightened.
Then looked toward Anna.
“May I?”
Anna looked to me.
I nodded.
Elowen stepped carefully in front of her.
She did not touch Anna immediately.
Instead, she bowed her head.
As though introducing herself.
Only then did she gently place two fingers a few inches above Anna’s stomach.
She never made contact.
She simply closed her eyes.
The chamber waited.
Seconds passed.
Then another.
The air grew strangely warm.
Elowen opened her eyes.
Slowly.
She removed her hand.
Then looked directly at Marcus.
“The child is healthy.”
A collective breath escaped the room.
“But…”
She looked around the Council.
“You have all misunderstood the prophecy.”
Murmurs broke out immediately.
Lorenzo frowned.
“In what way?”
Elowen rested one hand on her satchel.
“You have spent two centuries reading it as though it were a warning.”
She smiled sadly.
“It was never written as one.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…”
She looked toward Anna once more.
“…that fear has been interpreting hope.”
Complete silence.
Then Lucien Valerius spoke for the first time.
His ancient voice filled the chamber.
“I agree.”
Every head turned toward the vampire elder.
He regarded Anna thoughtfully.
“I have walked this earth for longer than any person in this room.”
He folded his hands over the head of his cane.
“I have witnessed empires rise.”
“I have watched species nearly destroy themselves because they feared what they did not understand.”
His crimson eyes swept across the Council.
“Do not make that mistake again.”
No one spoke.
Marcus finally stood.
“This Council will adjourn until tomorrow morning.”
He struck the ceremonial gavel once.
“The representatives of each bloodline will reconvene after time has been given for reflection.”
The chamber erupted into quiet conversation.
Chairs scraped across marble.
Groups began forming immediately.
Politics had resumed.
As Carlos moved toward the gathering Alphas, Elowen slipped her satchel over her shoulder and smiled at me.
“Doña Isolde still makes that wonderful rosemary bread?”
I blinked.
“I… think she does.”
“Excellent.”
She tucked a loose braid behind her ear.
“Then I believe the three of us have quite a bit of catching up to do.”
For the first time that day…
The weight on my shoulders felt just a little lighter.
Christa’s P.O.V.
Doña Isolde refused to eat in the formal dining room.
She always had.
“No one tells the truth at a table that expensive,” she’d often say.
Instead, she led us into the old family kitchen tucked away behind the Alpha House.
The room smelled of fresh bread, rosemary, roasted garlic, and simmering tomato sauce.
For the first time all day…
The Alpha House felt like home again.
Elowen smiled as she looked around.
“Some things never change.”
Doña Isolde chuckled.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m relieved.”
The old witch removed her satchel and placed it carefully on one of the wooden chairs.
“I’ve attended Council meetings for nearly six centuries.”
She looked around the kitchen.
“They all start in rooms like yours…”
She gestured toward the palace.
“…and every important conversation ends in kitchens like this.”
Even I laughed.
Doña Isolde cut three thick slices of warm rosemary bread before placing one in front of each of us.
“I figured you’d still like this.”
Elowen tore off a piece before answering.
“I’ve outlived kings.”
She smiled.
“I’ve never outlived good bread.”
Doña Isolde rolled her eyes.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve worked very hard at it.”
For a while…
No one mentioned the Council.
No prophecies.
No unborn child.
No rumors.
Just three women sharing lunch.
It was strange.
Comforting.
Almost normal.
Almost.
Finally, Elowen looked at me over the rim of her teacup.
“You’ve spent your whole life wondering about your mother.”
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t need to.
She already knew.
Elowen smiled softly.
“She was nothing like you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It should.”
Doña Isolde laughed into her tea.
“Your mother couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.”
I blinked.
“Really?”
“Oh, goodness no.”
Elowen laughed.
“If she bought Carlos a birthday gift in January…”
She shook her head.
“…he knew about it by February.”
I frowned.
“Carlos?”
Doña Isolde smiled.
“She means your father.”
Elowen nodded apologetically.
“My mistake.”
The smile slowly faded from her face.
“Your mother loved to laugh.”
“She laughed loudly.”
“She laughed often.”
“And when she laughed…”
Elowen looked toward the kitchen window.
“…everyone else usually did too.”
I stared at my untouched tea.
“I don’t remember her.”
“I know.”
“I’ve spent my entire life trying to imagine what she was like.”
Elowen reached across the table and gently rested her hand over mine.
“Then stop imagining.”
She smiled warmly.
“I’ll tell you.”
The room became still.
“She hated embroidery.”
I frowned.
“What?”
Doña Isolde burst into laughter.
“She absolutely did.”
“She was terrible at it.”
Elowen nodded.
“One afternoon she insisted she was going to make blankets for the nursery.”
“And?”
“And by sunset she’d sewn two blankets together…”
“…and accidentally trapped herself inside them.”
I laughed.
A real laugh.
One I hadn’t expected.
Doña Isolde pointed at me triumphantly.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“That laugh.”
She smiled through misty eyes.
“That’s your mother’s laugh.”
The words hit me harder than any punch ever had.
I lowered my eyes.
“I’ve never heard anyone say that before.”
Elowen’s expression softened.
“There are a thousand things I could tell you about her.”
“She was brave.”
“She was stubborn.”
“She believed every problem could be solved with enough patience…”
She glanced toward Doña Isolde.
“…or enough food.”
Doña Isolde shrugged.
“I still believe that.”
The three of us laughed again.
Then…
The laughter faded.
Elowen became quiet.
Carefully, she reached into the worn leather satchel resting beside her chair.
She hesitated before drawing out a bundle wrapped in faded blue cloth.
Doña Isolde’s smile disappeared.
“You kept it.”
“I promised I would.”
My heartbeat quickened.
Elowen placed the bundle gently on the table between us.
The cloth was old.
Fragile.
Its edges had yellowed with age.
“I’ve carried this for twenty-nine years.”
My breath caught.
“What is it?”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“A promise.”
Slowly…
She unfolded the cloth.
Inside rested a weathered leather journal.
It wasn’t large.
No title marked the cover.
No family crest.
Just years of careful use.
I reached toward it…
Then stopped.
Almost afraid to touch it.
Elowen smiled.
“The last afternoon I spent with your mother…”
Her voice grew softer.
“…she handed me this journal.”
I looked at the worn leather.
“She told me she had begun writing letters…”
“…for the child she hoped would one day read them.”
A tear escaped before I could stop it.
“I never knew.”
“No one did.”
Elowen gently slid the journal toward me.
“She asked me to keep it.”
“‘If my daughter grows into the woman I hope she’ll become…’”
Elowen swallowed.
“‘Give it to her only when she needs her mother more than she needs answers.’”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Outside, I could hear the distant sounds of DeL Sol preparing for another day of Council meetings.
Inside…
The world had narrowed to one old journal.
One promise.
And the voice of a mother I had never known.
With trembling hands…
I finally lifted the cover.
- Writer
