A prophecy about a rising wolf? A story? A fable… that hadn’t even come to fruition. He thought HE could overpower the fates and take what he wanted, push things in his own way?
It’s almost as if the Doctor can feel my questioning, or maybe it’s my silent deathly manner as I sit up stock straight and lower my chin to glare hatefully across his shoulder at the Luna beyond. It’s not a look for her, but at everything I’m now finding out and I can’t control it. He betrayed her, just as he betrayed his entire people… my family. He betrayed his own son.
“Sierra was meant to be his answer…. a hybrid witch and wolf. He thought by searching out this white queen and mating her he would be assured the power he longs for. Sierra is a black wolf though, something he overlooked as a small detail, and when their tale did not push them into the path of the story he thought was rightfully his, he took matters into his own hands. The rising of your mother made him insane, and upon return from the wars, the books were scraped free of any hint of a prophecy, forbidding the Shamans from teaching it to the young. He rewrote history to hide it. He pushed all trace of what he did into a coma to silence her for her own treason.” His voice is tight, tension hitching, and I can taste his nervousness this time, as he does back away, shuffling out of my way to give me a clear view of the lifeless soul I’m fixated on.
My whole being poised, like I’m on the verge of lashing out and ripping this room to shreds, such is the crazy hate and anger coursing through me, and I clutch the bed viciously to hold myself in check. Torn between mounting fury and heart breaking, crippling devastation.? If I could turn, I would already be ripping this facility apart with the intensity of everything I feel inside of me. A storm raging to be set free, yet my heart aches to the point I think it may stop beating, under the force of pressure. An agony incomparable to anything and my entire truth crumbles like ash around the ruins of my own fire.
“He knew Sierra was a mixed breed. He knew he’s completely destroyed something decided by the fates. He thinks he has that power? That worth?” I snarl, my voice unrecognizable as this feeds my desire to combust in a tornado of destruction. I never knew I could harbor so much longing to find one man, hunt him down, and enjoy ripping him limb from limb. Slowly, and painfully.
I can almost taste it; such is the want to have it badly. The blood lust coursing through me in hot waves as I start to visualize that narcissistic asshole and what I’m going to do to him when he gets within an inch of me. Body bristling and goose bumping, my heart rate rising, and my lungs quickening to accommodate my fast, rapid breath.
“Yes. It was by design that he sought her out and travelled far to find her. Sweeping her off her feet and mating to her so he could possess her for eternity. He thought he could fulfil and control the prophecy and further his own desire to rule. She was a relatively isolated wolf, na?ve, unloved, her own pack rejecting her because of her roots, and she fell straight into the arms of the first real love shown her way. She was known as a witch, and well, you know they’re as much a wolf’s enemy as the vampires, which made her a cursed and fearful species. She told me she fell madly in love and didn’t find out about his ulterior motive until she had been his for many months, and already bound by the mate bond.” The doctor looks towards her, a sad distant glaze to his glassy eyes as he remembers their conversations, and the regret of not believing her when he should.
“So how did she end up here? If she had powers… Witches are strong. You said she tried to stop him, so why couldn’t she?” I’m devilishly low toned, controlled, the growl coming through in my voice, leaning to anger to try and avoid the pain inside of me, and I can feel my inner wolf tossing and turning with the frustrating need to be set free. It’s sharpening its claws and begging to be uncaged.
“She betrayed him. By sacrificing her own life for the protection of a child who can regain the balance of things. Sierra is a seer and a witch, yes, she has powers unlike any wolf, but they are not strong like a warrior… They are useful in ways of protection on a small scale, and she has abilities to control certain aspects of others. She’s a healer, not a fighter, and she did what she thought could make a difference.”
“Meaning?” I turn to him fully and lock onto him, seeing him swallow hard, and his mistrust of my current behavior is written all over him. In this moment he’s afraid of me and he’s nervously spewing words to try and diffuse it, or to keep me focused on anything other than turning on him. I can smell the terror coming in waves from him, even without my wolf sense. It’s not intentional, but these feeling are bigger than me, and I have no will to reel them in right now. Fractured and seeping, and I don’t know how to stop it pouring out and pooling around me like a dense smog.
“She got to you before Juan did. Ran and left the pack on their return to your lands. She bound her blood to you, so you became linked to her, and completely protected from being slain too, thus meaning he could never kill you. And if he tried to isolate and imprison you, then his pack would have asked why… what did a child do? All these years, this story haunted me as nothing more than the imagining of a fractured mind, torn by horror and atrocity she witnessed, and yet here you stand… the child of Marina. Just like she said you would. Alora…. I am so sorry, please…. you must understand, that had I known it was truth, I would never …….” His real honest despair comes through in torn rawness, but it’s not my concern right now. I can’t feel anything for his sorrow or his heartache, while there’s only chaos and a need to avenge them all.
“Why can’t I remember that? If she bound to me then why don’t I see her in my memory?” I snap, interrupting his apologies, too caught up in my own pain and misery and needing to hurt something, to care about him and his regrets. It doesn’t change the now or how I got here.
“She bound your memory, your gifts, and that of her son, to protect you all, for she feared Juan would see even challenge to his position in his own child, should he have inherited her gifts too. Like I said, she has certain abilities. She said the time would come when she would give back to you that which she took…. I assume she means those. Not just yours, but Colton’s too.” He falters, his voice trembling, wringing his hands in nervousness, and I jump up and stalk pas, him to push my hands against the glass. My head torn with the addition of even more to this story.
Colton has other gifts too. Bound? And me…. is she the reason I can’t seem to grasp my own gifts and gain any control, because I’m always fighting some kind of spell that keeps them dormant? How is that helpful? Especially now, when she’s like a corpse, sleeping through the years and can’t do anything to physically help.
My body is aching to turn and trying to revert to wolf, but this damn building is strong and keeping it in check, no matter how hard it wails and howls within me. I bang the glass, the torture of it getting too much, and watch the shudder travelling from my palm and spreading out the full expanse of the invisible wall. It does nothing to ease the inner war.
“Bound my gifts? My memories? How could she… that’s impossible. I have gifts, I’m learning but they’re there, not tied down completely. Colton… he has his gifts too and he’s more than capable of using them. His alpha strength, and speed, his dominance. He can command with a tone. It can’t be true… no one has ever documented a witch binding a wolf’s natural gifts.” It’s a rebuff of what he’s saying as I mentally try and dismiss them as lies, focused fully on her and willing her to get up and tell me this herself. Lying there like a weak powerless fool who let her mate destroy everything in our lives.
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