Chapter Seven

2101 Words
That night with the Prince ended exactly how it should have. Later that very eve, I was chosen to be the next Luna once he was of-age to claim the his grandmother’s title. That gave me eight years to prepare myself; I had to finish studies, begin my training at a dojo…and come to terms with my new husband. Our wedding day, however, would be much sooner. As soon as I was eighteen, we would be wed beneath Aoibh’s full moon. Five years away. So, I spent the next five, long years swallowing my distaste of the Prince. We spent much time together; I often studied in the palace libraries side-by-side with him to prepare myself for becoming the next Luna. We would walk around the territory together, letting the rumors naturally flow of our arranged marriage. We mingled with commoners to do exactly what Luna Bleeding Heart hoped; to improve the royal family’s standing among the pack. My love of dancing faded. I danced because it was a safe space for me amidst the confines of nobility, of anger over my parents, of grief over Cillian, of guilt over Sorcha… Dancing was freedom. But it felt dirty now; I didn’t want to dance to manipulate people’s favor. I didn’t want to take advantage of them for the sake of politics. I tried to distance myself from my once-favorite hobby, but my parents – and the Luna herself – noticed. I was forced to dance. Another obligation, another leash. Another rack of pain clubs me back to the present, and I heave over the toilet. Mother strokes my hair fondly as I gasp and drool, clutching my stomach. I hate that I feel comforted by Cillian’s murderer. Sorcha was sick on her Shifting day, too. She spent the entire day in agony; sometimes it would be spent in the bathroom, other times clawing the paint off the walls as her nails grew into claws. My heart can’t stop racing. My excitement mingles with the feverish venom that slithers beneath my skin, and I’m left in a half-conscious daze. Prince Donnacha paces right outside the bathroom door, his gaze never leaving me. The full moon is getting closer. Pink-graced light glints off the porcelain toilet. Only another hour of this. Then I meet my Wolf. Thirty minutes later, I feel well enough to walk. My parents hover by me at the door as the Prince waits just outside. “Are you ready, my love?” Father asks, pride twinkling in his eyes. I nod and look away. How can I look at him? Cillian and Sorcha should be here to enjoy this with me. Cillian would have been nine years old by now; Sorcha would be a mother already. It’s not fair that I must endure this without them. “We’ll be with you every step of the way,” Mother reassures, but a bitter taste clings to my tongue. “No,” I declare, finally meeting their excited gazes. Their expressions fall, and their brows knit with concern. “What do you mean? It’s traditional for parents to accompany their child’s first Shift—” Mother protests. “I don’t care. I’m doing this without you.” Anger rises in my chest, and my heartbeat quickens. I can barely hear anything over its cacophonous drumming. “Let her be, sweetheart,” Father interjects. Mother’s shoulders sag; all the color in her face drains, and the light in her eyes is snuffed. “She has every right to make that choice.” He nods understandingly at me, but I can’t return the gesture. I can’t talk to them tonight. I want my brother and sister. “We will go Shift with the other hunting parties of this pack. Please…stay safe.” His last request is laden with worry. Every full moon is dangerous, especially for first-time Shifters. Everyone else bands together in hunting parties to catch wild game; if humans have been encroaching too close to Pack territory, then the hunters herd them away instead. But for first-time Shifters? We prove our worth. We fight against other hopeful first-timers from the neighboring packs. It’s a tradition spanning centuries ago, shortly after Aoibh’s ascension to the Moon. Our packs have a long, bloody history; so, a long-ago Alpha brokered an alliance. He said that every full moon, we would challenge each other. If a youngster was killed, then they were simply too weak – and thus, their murderer would have done the Pack a service. If a youngster was kidnapped, then their kidnapper had the right to demand ransom – and the victim would be forever shamed by such weakness. ‘However, the victim’s family may seek retribution, but only in the same manner. A kidnap for a kidnap; a murder for a murder. Nothing more would be allowed, and nothing less would be expected,’ as my textbooks said. No attacks could be made any other night except for the full moon Shifts. This is the blessing and curse of the Full Moon Hunts. “…I promise,” I mutter after a moment. I will live through my first Hunt. I’ve made it this far, and I refuse to die over something as small as this. Prince Donnacha takes my hand, and we head to the Moon’s Eye Lake. Every Shifting werewolf in the pack congregates around the miles-long lake. An intoxicating buzz of energy and primal anticipation hangs over the crystalline water like a fog. Groups of families, friends, and hunting parties chatter anxiously, their conversations burbling along the water. The Prince and I settle along the lake’s shores. “Nervous?” he inquires. A cool breeze twirls around me, and I shiver. “Yes.” “Thrilling, isn’t it?” I smirk – he’s gotten to know me well. “Oh, yes.” Tadgh’s earthy smell carries along the breeze, and I turn around. “Hey, Kiana,” he greets with a warm smile, and the Prince steps possessively between us. “You aren’t allowed to Shift with us, Omega,” he warns. Tadgh c***s an eyebrow and places his hands on his hips. I push in front. “He’s my friend, Donnacha. He’s allowed.” The Prince and I glare at each other before he holds up his hands in surrender and relents. He’s been more lenient with my ways, lately – perhaps because he’s clever and sees the political gain his grandmother hoped for. Or, just maybe, I’m rubbing off on him. I embrace Tadgh, no doubt earning a sneer from the Prince. “I’m so glad you made it!” I sigh, squeezing him tight. He scoffs and ruffles my hair. “’Course I made it, dumbass.” We’ve seldom talked about that night of his first Shift – that night I met The Girl. As Tadgh told me, ‘I won’t judge you; you got enough of that already. But I also won’t lord it over you, so as far as I’m concerned, it never happened.’ I feared that, despite his promise, things would change between us. But no. He’s kept his word. A bone-deep ache grips my leg, and I stagger. I try to take in a sharp breath, but my lungs rattle and wheeze. “Deep breaths, Kiana,” the Prince coaches. “It will make things much smoother.” Enthusiastic cries pepper the crowds. The sun – it’s last light is sinking below the horizon! This is it…there’s no turning back now. Three… Two… One. Coals sear into my heart; it beats furiously against the pain, but the flaming coals burn deeper in. I try to scream, but my throat rasps out a mewling cry. Prince Donnacha and Tadgh disrobe, as does the rest of the pack. I do so with trembling fingers, dizzy from the fire in my chest. Throngs of naked bodies bare themselves to their beloved moon. The silver beams dances against my pale skin, cloaking me in moonlight. I’m imbued with otherworldly power; though I felt helpless moments ago, I now crave the pain. My human body is a prison – it must be shed. I must be freed! My flesh tingles, and bristly hairs break through my pores. My bones snap, and I drop to my hands and knees with a scream. All I can see, smell, hear, taste, feel – all of it is pain, blessed pain that releases me from my human trappings. The fire in my heart ignites in my lungs, and I shriek as loud as I can. Tears stream down my face, cool against my hot skin; I drool uncontrollably. I sob and laugh from the anguish. “Say my name,” comes a low, melodious voice. My ears are ringing, but this voice is loud and clear. It’s in my head. My Wolf. “What’s your name?” I reply back in my head. The only way to release myself from this magnificent hell is to say its name. A soft growl floats through my consciousness. “Use your senses, and find it.” I scream again as more pain shackles me to the ground. I’m on my belly; I can’t move. My voice halts, trapped in my throat. “I am part of you,” my Wolf continues. “I am the manifestation of your deepest instincts and desires. Your passion, your ambition, your anger, your bloodlust… I am the One who gives them voice.” I try to whine, but my very breath is strangled. So, this is my Wolf. Whatever emotion is fed most throughout one’s life, the Wolf becomes. Mine is a Wolf of Rage, isn’t it? “I am not Rage,” it corrects sharply. “I am more than that. Say my name.” I can’t breathe. The silvery blades of grass in front of me grow blurred. I can’t hear anything at all now. “I don’t know who you are!” I cry to it. “I wish my anger, my passion, and my ambition could do something, but I can’t fight back! I’m just left with these feelings as I live helplessly!” “If you could do something with these feelings, what would it be?” the Spirit asks, tender curiosity softening its silky tone. “…I would bring back my siblings. I would fight for them… I would protect them.” Tears sting my eyes. “You cannot. So, what will you do instead?” My heart stops. So, that’s what I’ve been doing…I’ve been mourning, hoping that if I mourn just a little harder, I could bring back the dead. It’s time to stop mourning – it’s time to do something. “…I’ll fight for others. I’ll protect those who are still living and struggling. I will be their Deliverance.” The Spirit’s breath graces my ears; its joy brings me life, even as I lay here paralyzed. “Say my name, my Kiana.” “Saoradh.” I gasp for breath, the world sharpens, the pain’s gone. The grass feels soft and cool, its blades swaying against me like locks of hair. Its earthy scent dances gleefully around my lupine nose. I stagger to my feet – all four of them – and wobble as I find balance on my new paws. The crisp air fills my cave-deep lungs with new life, and I puff it out my long, slender nose. Tadgh looks down at me with the sun-yellow eyes of his own Wolf, a lolling smile cracking his brown-freckled muzzle in two. The Prince strides up alongside me, towering over all of us, and I gape at his magnificence. His pure white fur flows around his neck like a lion’s mane, his long legs glide gracefully over the grass, and his burning eyes shimmer like suns against his moon-soaked fur. Excitedly, I look at my own reflection in the glassy water. I’m built like a fox; lithe, willowy, and small compared to the other werewolves around me. My thick fur is tri-colored, with intertwining ginger, blood-red, and onyx locks that create a tapestry of autumnal colors. My muzzle and belly are flecked with silver, like strokes of a frayed paintbrush. My ice-cold eyes glow bright with wild, unbridled vigor. Sorcha’s scar leaves a mark through my fur. Saoradh is beautiful. We’re beautiful. A howl erupts from far beyond the lake, and its haunting tune carries flawlessly across the illuminated night. Tadgh and Donnacha join in, singing their praise to the full moon. My joy can’t contain itself any longer. I tip my head back and howl at my moon.
Free reading for new users
Scan code to download app
Facebookexpand_more
  • author-avatar
    Writer
  • chap_listContents
  • likeADD