The Triquetra Bond

Chapter 2

Eimear’s heart pounded as she stepped into the courtyard, her movements awkward and unsteady. Her new form felt alien, her talons digging into the earth for balance with each hesitant step. Scents assaulted her heightened senses, and the moonlight sharpened every detail around her, yet she felt more vulnerable than ever.

The courtyard, once a safe haven, now felt vast and intimidating. Pack members stood in small clusters, their conversations fading to whispers as her presence drew their attention. One by one, heads turned, and a hush fell, the weight of their stares pressing down on her like a physical force. Through the pack bond, she could feel their unease—confusion, fear, and a ripple of disbelief that stung like frost against her skin.

She paused at the courtyard’s edge, frozen under their scrutiny. This wasn’t how she had imagined her return. She had dreamed of stepping into this space as a wolf, proud and whole, finally one of them. Instead, she stood as something other—a creature of myth and nightmare, her wings twitching nervously against her sides.

A sharp gasp broke the silence as her silver-grey wings caught the light, their brilliance stark against the night. Instinctively, she folded them tighter, trying to shrink into herself, but it only seemed to magnify the collective tension.

Through the bond, emotions surged—a chaotic storm of uncertainty, suspicion, and disbelief. Yet one presence cut through the turmoil: her father. Declan stepped forward, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the courtyard. His sharp blue eyes locked onto hers, scanning her with a mixture of caution and intensity.

“Who are you?” His voice, calm but edged with steel, echoed across the space.

Eimear flinched as the words struck. He didn’t recognize her. Of course, he didn’t. She barely recognized herself.

She swallowed hard and reached out through the bond, her voice trembling. “It’s me, Father. It’s Eimear.”

A ripple of shock swept through the pack bond, mirrored in the brief widening of Declan’s eyes. He took a step closer, his posture shifting between caution and protectiveness.

Eimear? he asked aloud, the disbelief thick in his voice.

She nodded, her wings quivering at her sides. “Yes. It’s me. I don’t… I don’t know what’s happened to me.”

Declan’s gaze softened, his sharp features easing as he studied her. “You’re different,” he murmured, his tone low. “But I feel you in the bond. You’re still my daughter.”

His words unravelled the knot of fear in her chest, and she exhaled shakily. The pack bond, once a faint thread, now pulsed with vibrant energy. She felt each pack member clearly—their confusion, their fear, their awe—and her father’s steady, unyielding presence.

Declan’s eyes flicked over her form, lingering on the talons, the wings, and the bristling fur. “What… are you?” he asked, his voice a mixture of awe and concern.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was at the cliffs, praying to the moon goddess. And then…” Her throat tightened. “The moon… it changed me.”

A murmur rippled through the gathered wolves, but Declan silenced them with a sharp glance. He reached out, his hand brushing against her feathers. “The prophecy,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The ancient protector. A creature of legend.”

His words settled over the courtyard like a physical weight, their significance dawning on the pack. Eimear searched his face, bracing for judgment, but saw only fierce pride and wonder in his eyes.

“You are my daughter,” he said firmly, his voice resonating with authority. “No matter what form you take, you are part of this pack. You always will be.”

Through the bond, his declaration echoed, carrying strength and reassurance to every member. Slowly, the fear in their emotions ebbed, replaced by tentative acceptance.

Maeve stepped forward, her expression serene but her emotions swirling. She rested a gentle hand on Eimear’s furred head, her touch grounding and warm. “We will figure this out,” she said softly.

Her brothers followed, Sean breaking the tension with a teasing grin. “Well, Eimear, you certainly know how to make an entrance.”

Liam placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his quiet strength a comfort. “You’re not alone,” he said simply.

Feeling the weight of their acceptance, Eimear drew a shaky breath. She glanced down at her talons, her wings still tucked against her sides, and a sudden yearning to be herself again gripped her.

“Where do I even start,” she thought.

Her mother stepped closer, placing warm hands on either side of Eimear’s head. “You can do this, love,” Maeve said, her voice steady and soothing. “Trust yourself. Let your spirit guide you back.”

Closing her eyes, Eimear focused inward, seeking her human side. The bond of her family steadied her, grounding her as the pull of transformation began. It wasn’t like before—the pain was still there, but it was softer, more like a stretch than a tear. Bones shifted, muscles realigned, and her wings became smaller and closer to her back.

When it was over, she stood trembling, barefoot in the courtyard. She glanced down at her hands, her familiar fingers trembling slightly as relief and exhaustion flooded her.

The gasp from her family made her lift her head.

Her hair, once a cascade of blonde streaked with silver, now gleamed like molten moonlight, pure silver and shimmering under the night sky. Maeve stepped forward, her voice thick with emotion. “Eimear…”

Declan’s chest swelled with pride, his eyes warm as he took in her new form.

Liam broke the reverent silence with a grin. “Silver suits you, little sister.”

Maeve pulled her into a tight embrace, her voice a soothing balm in Eimear’s ear. “My brave girl.”

Eimear clung to her mother, tears stinging her eyes as her brothers crowded around, their hands resting on her shoulders in a show of solidarity.