I lie still, watching her, frozen, breath raspy to match my elevated heart rate, but my fears calm and fade as she slides down her hood with a slow, even slide and illuminates the room with a magical blue glow of both her hands. Like a mesmerizing smoky orb around each that follows and traces with every movement. Hypnotic in nature.
Despite looking exotic, Sierra Santo is a beautiful woman with almost milky skin. Her dark hair frames a delicate bone structure, and her eyes, although electrifying blue right now, are almond-shaped under straight, thick dark brows, so perfectly symmetrical. She has pouty lips and an ever-present youthful charm that completely warms her to you. A face that says, ‘You can trust me’ to match the surrounding atmosphere of serene she always carries.
I sit up, gasping in wonderment at the light show and reaching out to touch what I can see as she moves in and sits on the side of my bed with grace. She lets my hand wander into hers, seeking and investigating, before firmly surrounding my small hand in her fingers and encompassing me with the warmth. I expected the blue air to be cold, but it’s almost like being submerged in a hot bubble bath, and I giggle at the tickle.
“Don’t be afraid, Alora ... it’s magic. Special, gentle, and yet so very ethereal and kind. Would you like to do some magic with me while I tell you a story?” Her eyes are still that dazzling brightest azure, and I look from her hands to her eyes in awe at the vibrancy of this mystical light she can produce. My curiosity is killing the last of my fears, and I nod with the enthusiasm of a child who wants to discover more. Naïve courage because of my innocence.
Of course, I shouldn’t be afraid. This is Luna Santo, and I know her. She comes to the library to read us stories and plays with us sometimes. Well, she did before all the grownups left to fight a battle. Like my mommy and daddy have, my big brother Jasper and my grandparents. And most of the rest of the Whyte pack.
I’m staying with Mommy’s friend while they’re gone, Aisha Munro, one of our pack, which is big and round because she says she’s having puppies. Sierra has a son around my age, but I don’t like boys, and I don’t like playing with Santos. They’re always so pushy and aggressive when we do, and I prefer my friends from the Whyte pack. We’re softer; we play less rough games than fighting and hunting. They’re just stupid boys.
“How can a wolf do magic?” I ask, blinking trustingly and adjusting to see her in this dimness, leaning up against my headboard and shuffling my butt so I can sit properly. With blue as our light source, everything it touches between us is shaded in cold hues, which add even more magic to the atmosphere, and I smile as I watch it envelop my hand and spread up my arm. It feels strange but good, like soft, gentle air being blown across the surface of my skin, only warm.
“Well, that’s a story and one I would like to tell you. Remember how we used to read at the library when you all lay on the floor and closed your eyes so you could get lost in the pictures your mind created? If you like, we can do that now so you can listen and empty your mind from any distractions. I need you to focus on my words and not my light.” Her voice is so soothing, low, yet pretty. It has a husky depth that is a little lower than most femmes, but it’s melodic. I’ve always liked Sierra’s voice; it has a calming quality, like a warm wave washing over you on a cool day.
“Yes! I love your stories.” I reply in unleashed excitement, hurrying to lie back down in my bed and eager to hear this one. I bounce and shuffle while still holding her hand and wriggle myself down like a squirming caterpillar into my sheets once more, pushing my head back against my pillow, sinking in. I don’t care why she’s come in through my window and not the door. Or why she came in the night. I want to be a good girl and listen to her magical adventure story. The one in which a wolf learns magic. That’s crazy, and even I know wolves can do no such thing!
My mommy used to read me stories in bed, and maybe because she can’t be here right now, Sierra came to do it instead. She’s a Queen, so she can go home when she chooses, but Mommy is a warrior, and she has to stay away and protect us from the evil men who came to the mountain to hurt the wolves. Mommy is strong, fast, and a good fighter for being a farmer wolf, so she said it was important that she go with them to chase the darkness away.
Sierra tucks me in neatly, pulling my blanket up to my chest, but keeps my one hand in hers snugly and tightens the grip she has on me. She slides back a little and lays my wrist on her knee, which splays open my palm to disengage hers, so she can touch my hand without holding it properly, and with gentle strokes, begins to circle in the center in a rhythmic motion. The sensation sends shivers and goosebumps across my skin, but it brings back the sleepiness and has the same effect as rocking me back to sleep.
“I learned to do magic as a tiny child, about the same age you are now. It wasn’t easy, but when you discover a gift inside you that aches to be set free, nothing can hold it down forever. Open your mouth, Alora; I have a sweet-tasting berry that will help you sleep when I’m done telling my tale.” Her voice is calm, as though she’s telling me secrets, and I obediently open my mouth as she pops a small, round, semi-soft object in my mouth, and I automatically begin to chew. The juice explodes with the first squish between my teeth like a delicious fruit bomb of sticky sweet nectar, leaving a beautiful taste of raspberries, strawberries, and other wild berries that seem to mingle in my mouth and coat my tongue as though I just drank a whole glass of squeezed berry juice.
“What was that? Can I have another?” I ask while opening one eye to look her way. It was so tasty I could eat a whole bowl of whatever that was. She’s leaning over my hand, looking at me, and shakes her head with a soft smile on her pretty face.
“Hush now and listen. Close your eyes. One is more than enough, for you see, one little berry has the power to make tonight fade away further than a forgotten dream, where no one will know where to look to find it. It’s a very special berry, only found in crevices of magical places, in whimsical woods, and with my help, it has a little added spice.” Sierra picks up a strand of my hair and twirls it with her free hand, never breaking contact with the first, and I settle back down into my dark blankness as I shut my eyes to focus only on her voice once more.
The night air is still and quiet, and for once, I can’t even hear the owls in the trees or the leaves rustling in the wind outside my window. There are no other noises around us, not even the ones of the house creaking or the Munro’s coughing in their sleep, which is a little odd, but maybe I usually sleep through the night and don’t know the world sometimes falls silent.
“My story may not make sense, sweet child, but one day it will, and when you remember it, remember this night and this moment, and all will fall into place. You’ll know why I came.” Sierra Santo brushes a hand across my forehead gently, an affectionate yet straightforward touch of a mother, and I nod, not willing to interrupt her anymore, so eager for this story to begin even if I don’t grasp what she means. I love tales about witches, magic, and brave heroes, and I hope this will be a good one. I can already tell as she’s playing with my hair like we’ve started a great adventure.
I feel her sag against my thigh and sigh before her voice fills the air, still hushed yet clear and true.
“Once upon a time, a special girl called Danya lived near some breathtaking mountains in a land filled with immortals. She was only small, barely a girl.
She was unusual, though, as, before her, no other of her kind had been borne that had ever survived beyond the womb. They say the Fates blessed her very creation with a purpose in mind. That she was of two breeds united, who had lived on the land side by side for centuries; her mother, a light walking wolf, fell in love with a dark creature who could never face the sun, a vampire.
By their union, they created a child of two worlds who could walk in either sun or moon and harness the best of both. You see, these two breeds were once allies, co-existing together. One in the night, and one in the light, protecting the lairs of each, so other immortals and human hunters would never hurt them at their weakest.
But a terrible king pulled them apart in the worst of ways. He believed the breeds uniting, creating a new kind, would overpower all the immortals, outbreeding his wolves and this girl, with her unique gifts, and could show them the way. She was not just any hybrid child, she had powers unlike any we had seen before, and she wanted only unity among her people. That was her fated purpose.”
I gasp a little and cover my mouth right away so as not to disturb her, and utter only a breathless ‘WOW’ as I become immersed in this tale. My little heart picking up speed with the wonder of it. Sierra smiles softly and continues.
“The Alpha king was enraged with the girl's audacity, that she should one day rise and derail him, taking his wolf kingdom away. So, he did what he thought would save his rule, and he slaughtered the girl Danya when she was merely a child. Her mother, too, who tried to protect her, was slain in a pool of blood. The King was a liar.
He blamed the dark creatures for the deaths of their own and ignited anger in the wolf packs to seek vengeance for the bloodshed of an innocent, while he denied the act himself.”
“He killed the little girl and her mommy?” I blurt out in outrage, unable to contain my angry shock, inhaling hard, and opening an eye to blink at Sierra. Sierra gently moves her hand over my face and closes my eyes once more with her delicate fingertips, pushing me back to quiet, and continues. I try to keep my eyes closed this time, the excitement bubbling within my veins.
“Now, the nightwalker, he was not just any creature … he was what they call an original, much like the Alpha of the wolves. An ancient. Beings that were the first of our kind and created many purebloods.
Danya’s mother had lain with the King of Vampires, probably why her child took hold and came to fruition, as ancients are the purest of our kind. His broken heart and need to avenge his love and child drove him to sheer madness, and he swore to avenge her death by slaying all wolves he deemed responsible for their demise.
The Kings met in battle, and what were once allies and peaceful unions became bloodshed and death. It spilled onto every land until it forced both to find refuge in parts of the world where the other did not stray. In the years following, those born of mixed breed, who came after, where unions were made in secret from those who didn’t want the wars, were hunted down and slaughtered by both kinds for treason. Unions between the two breeds were forbidden. So those born of light and dark fled and hid and always kept their secret about who they were, in any way they could. Danya was not the last.”
I sigh heavily, letting out a slight noise, but Sierra is making sure I keep my eyes closed, and I picture such a pretty girl with white hair, saddened with little pangs in my heart that they ended her in such a cruel way. I wonder if a wolf can be both, like me, and one of those creatures Mommy is fighting. I wonder if this story could be a little bit true. It would be sad if all these wars were because a bad man killed a little girl. All because he was afraid she would take his crown away. What a silly man.
“Stories told are a funny thing, as they change and grow, and details are forgotten or exaggerated, and soon that story of years gone by gets lost among the wolves, and visionaries too afraid to correct the tellers.
We witches became the enemy because we held truth and sight, as Alphas removed traces from our history and beheaded witches who spoke out. The wars raged on, decade after decade, for hundreds of years, until no wolf or vampire knew why we came to hate one another with such passion. The witches still whispered the secrets, though.
All was to be forever that way, quiet secrets, until a visionary, a seer, saw something that changed everything, and she sacrificed her life by spreading a prophecy to any who listened. Neither side trusts the motives of the witches, but we have always been the peacekeepers and the healers among you all. Our hearts were open to love all kinds, and we only wished to serve the needs and cure the sick, but this hatred had pushed some of my kind into terrible darkness who use their gifts for bad. And we no longer tried to right the wrongs of your people.”
Sierra again lifts her hands from my eyes, although I keep them closed, ready and waiting for her words, and she returns to twirling my hair.
“This Seer, she saw an end to it all, in the form of a white wolf with a vampire's blood running through her veins. A direct descendent of both bloodlines, both ancients. The prophecy was clear that only a femme could carry the gifts needed. She would rise and lead her people … not in war, hate, and death.
No, that was never the prophecy, but she was to unite and repair the bonds between the two because a warrior she may be, but her truest gift will be the love she has inside her, and her power will reset the balance. She will not wipe out the vampires; she will find something among them that will show her how to fix the rift. They possess something she needs from them. She’s a healing balm.” Sierra sighs heavily, fatigue in her voice, and a sense of hopelessness dulls her tone.
“A new King was rising among the people and his bloodline. The king of old was not willing to relinquish his throne, either. That same power madness infected his mind, and he purged the lands of any white wolves he came across on his battlefield. Not that there were many, as the flaws in our kind make their birth almost impossible. He broke the laws and killed his own, and to hide his secrets, he killed all that were linked to them and removed any trace from the packs. You see, losing our kind in battle raises no questions, and he knew he could never let a white wolf rise. Such is his need for that power; he married a witch-wolf and hid her identity because he thought she would make him rise as the chosen one.”
I wonder if our Alpha Santo is that king. If Sierra is the magical witch in the story. Maybe she means Juan Santo is the evil king. How silly. Juan isn’t a bad man. He’s the one Mommy went to war with. He is our people’s king now.
“There was one who shone bright and started to lead a better way. Turn the battles in our favor, but she was letting the vampires live and showing mercy all too often. She believed she could end things if she could meet with the Coven King of Darkness and put an end to it all. She said she had a way. A future with peace.
The Alpha king was furious, but the witch Luna had affection for the white wolf, and she begged him to leave her be. The king knew the white wolf was too strong for him and that his witch mate would try to intervene. So, while he pretended to allow her to travel alone to find this leader of the vampires for a solution to the fights, he struck down her family, and her mate, putting an end to her own life, too.
He used the link between bonded mates to his advantage. He thought he had ground the prophecy to dust once and for all, with no more traces of white among our kind. There was devastation in the air and a broken witch-wolf in heartbreak.
The king, however, was reminded of a child who had stayed behind and had not yet come to turn and show her true colors. A femme child with the possibility of her hybrid mother’s gifts. But you see, the king’s mate … she is a witch, bound by a bond to him, yet she does not support his actions.
That wolf was her sister in friendship, maybe not in birth, but she adored her as though she was blood and what he did broke her heart. The betrayal of his people, the murder of his own, the betrayal of his bond to her in hurting her closest. That witch, she knew he, would come after the rest of the white wolf’s pack and end any chance of another rising ever again.
She chose her people over her bond, her love of the white wolf’s child, and it brought me to you.” Sierra stops stroking my face, and her words make me jump. So caught in the wonder of her tale that it’s a surprise for her to say that.
“Why me? What am I to do?” I try not to open my eyes, as she said not to, and screw them shut as hard as I can while holding myself still. My little heartbeat rising again with awe and excitement for this fantastic story.
“You are the last white femme, Alora, so I could not stay behind and let you die. I had to come and protect you with the gifts I’ve hidden for so many years. Don’t be afraid. One day, when this comes back, you will know what to do.
My son, Colton, is a good, sweet boy, but I must leave him for a little while, even though it kills me. You’ll be what he needs when the time comes, and the Fates will draw you to him. I’ve seen it; the Fates have deemed it so. Saw the pairing of my child and my Marina’s as a resolution to the binds we find ourselves in. Our children will be the unity our three kinds need, and together they will rebalance what nature intended for our people.
The berry I gave you will make you sleep, and all that you know from the moment you woke at my appearance until you wake in the morning will be gone. Until such a time when we three touch and I can lift the binds I’m about to place on you.
If something happens and I can no longer be found or help undo this, your mate bond to my son, the finalizing of the union, will restore this memory and the gifts I’m about to bind. It will break the spell, and you’ll shine, sweet girl, with my son by your side. My aura shimmers around and through you, weaving its path as I have given you my words, and our souls have become so wholly entwined within my magic. Look now.”
I flutter my eyes open with her permission, a little slow at first, and can see what she means with a quiet inhale of surprise. I’m completely enveloped in a blue glow, all around me and somehow inside me, and I lift my one free hand to see there is not a single piece of me that is not illuminated as it pulsates from every pore. Making traces in the air with my small movements.
Sierra takes both of my hands in hers, holding my entire tiny fist inside her palms and firmly squeezing until I can’t free myself. Her eyes glow brighter, the room becoming light with the power of the glow we are emitting, and her face transfixes me as she locks her eyes on mine.
“I’m binding my life to thee, willingly our souls entwine.
My air is yours, our hearts beat in rhyme, and together we are one ‘til the end of time.
By blood, we may not be linked, but in love and bond, by magic synced.
We now are forever to die as one.
For you, my child, this spell will be done.
I bind thee gifts until a time predicted when the world and all within shall be shifted.
When love breaks the ties I place upon thee, your mind and power shall be set free.
We shall meet again, in a time and place that the Fates decree.”
Sierra utters these words, almost like a song, as everything between us pulses, and hums, with a static that electrifies the room, and we glow to an insane level of brightness. I screw my eyes shut; body energized and almost fit to bursting with the sudden rush of adrenaline rushing through me.
I feel like I’m standing in a wind tunnel, yet nothing moves, and almost as quickly, it stops dead and drops back to a dim glow as only Sierra’s hands remain blue, and those two piercing eyes return to their natural dark brown color. I blink my eyes at the sudden darkness of the room, adjusting as it all comes back into focus, and look at her in question. Her eyes are full of tears; little rivulets stain her pale cheeks as they roll down, and she smiles at me softly.
“He’s coming, and soon this family will die, too. They’re killing what is left of the Whyte pack as we speak, and they’ll tell those of the mountain they chased vampires into our lands and couldn’t get to them in time. As I have become, you’ll be a thorn in his side, and he’ll have no choice but to put you somewhere in the hope you’ll be forgotten. My fate will be whatever he decides, but I doubt it’ll be here with my people.
If you die, I die, and, in turn, he dies too. That will be my homage to your mother, so her death was not in vain.
Sleep now, sweet girl … before the horrors come to this room. I don’t want that memory for you of this innocent family’s demise, and I will stay here until he knows he can’t touch you. For now, for eternity, if he wishes to live.
My sleeping berry is potent. You will know of nothing more, my angel, only peaceful slumber. For tomorrow, they will break your heart and tell you of the saddest moment you’ll have to live through for the next ten years. I’m not a warrior; I’m a healer, or else I would have done more for her, for all of you, and I’m so sorry. I truly am.
My son, though, has so much fire within him, just waiting to be unleashed. He will be a great warrior one day, your protector, your love, but you will show him the way. I had to bind his witch gifts as a baby for fear others would see it in him or that Juan would see him as a threat, but he possesses sight and abilities he knows nothing of yet. I bound him, and like yours, his gifts will unbind when he marks you as his mate; or I’m returned to you both to do it myself. Whichever comes first… You two are our future, Alora.” Sierra strokes my face one more time. The sleepiness becoming overwhelming, and although the words she says alarm me and pushes fear into my heart and a pain so deep because she said my mother is dead, the effects of that berry are pulling me into darkness. I can’t fight them. Tears bite my eyes, and I make a painful sound in response, yet it falls almost like a breath and fades away as I succumb to its power.
“I want my Mom.” It’s a whisper as I try my hardest to fight the effects, but my eyes drift closed, and Sierra’s voice is all that gets through, her tone low, husky, and torn as she cries through her words.
“I’m so sorry. I really am. I want her to come back too. You are all I have left of her. I only wish I could stand in her place and shelter you now, but he won’t let me be with you. Our time will come; I will see you again. Sweet, sweet, Alora.” She sobs a little under her breath and then swallows it down and pushes herself back to calm. “I’ll sing to you, the wolf song. Such a pretty lullaby that will help you go to sleep. Your mother said she used to sing it when she nursed, and it was always Colton’s favorite melody to fall asleep to … shh now.”
Sierra gently starts to sing, her voice wavering with emotion but still lovely and quiet, almost a whisper so as not to disturb anyone else. The words of the Nordic song of old that we sing at the Awakening ceremonies, according to my mom, because I’m not allowed to go just yet. They’re for the grown-up wolves who have something special beginning, and I hope one day that will be me, too.
The notes and melody fill the air like a beautiful ghostly echo, calling on our ancestors to help pave my path to slumber, and I black out entirely as voices invade the room where I lie.