Misty
Two white wolves in a clearing.
Their bodies made of mist and aether, standing side by side.
Mates. A marvel of second chances and extraordinary fate.
Two white wolves turn toward the sunrise knowing what they must leave behind; what he sacrificed for those he loved and her refusal to let him go into death alone.
Two white wolves stand over their earthly bodies. He, battered and still.
She, going into death with eyes open, cupping her mate's face between her graceful hands, her eyes locked on his at the moment of her dying breath.
Their last words had been simple. I love you.
They always had.
They’d promised this instant in stolen moments, in private corners, when there was nothing but the stars to light their way.
I will not stay here without you.
I will not leave you behind.
And so, it was.
Two white wolves face the sunrise.
I peel my cheek from the pages of the massive book sprawled across my desk, blinking into the soft glow of the sun pouring through the window. The tan stone walls and crappy wood furniture come into view, replacing another vision of dense forests and moonlit plains. “Shit,” I whisper, running my hand over my face, then through my hair as I blink down at the book. What had I been doing? Oh, right. Studying for an upcoming exam about the Rosetta people.
I lean back in my creaky chair and look down at the page, reading out loud, “The Rosetta people thrived in Eastonia three to four thousand years before the first Firestone witches appeared and we’re believed to have been the first worshippers of the Moon Goddess who gifted them with the power to shift into creatures of the night.” Creatures of the night. Owls, foxes, the works. I rub my tired eyes and close the book.
I didn’t really need to study for this test. It’s one of those early fall semester things to make sure me, and my fellow archeology students entering their senior year at the ancient University of Tarsian, considered the first university like… ever… in our world, haven’t totally fallen behind over summer break.
I’m a straight A student. My professors and fellow students think I’m a know-it-all, which I’ve always taken as a compliment. Nothing about this program has challenged me so far, and I don’t expect it to. I’m exactly where I need to be, surrounded by books and intellects who can challenge every theory and point of view I have.
I tuck the book in my backpack, deciding to go across campus to the library to find something bigger, more interesting, knowing the librarians are already sick of my presence in their domain, but outside of my dorm room, I spend most of my time in the library. It’s six levels of books–some more modern, including copies shipped from Crescent Falls covering subjects like modern medicine, engineering, and energy, but my interest has always been in the ancient tomes locked away in the three lower levels, deep underground.
The air carries a salty breeze that reminds me of Maatua as I toss my backpack on my bed and strip out of the pajamas I’d hadn’t bothered taking off when I woke up a few hours ago and immediately hit the books. I pull on a pair of black athletic shorts and a gray tank top to beat the heat during my walk across campus but tuck a sweatshirt in my bag. It gets rather chilly in the library.
I’m just turning to the mirror to try to brush out the tangles in my hair when Georgia, my roommate and best friend, rushes inside our room.
She nearly knocks her head on the sloping stone ceiling in her haste to get inside and slams the door shut, her eyes wild with excitement.
“Did someone die?” I laugh, pulling my hair into a ponytail as she fights for breath.
Georgia dumps her bag on the floor and pulls a black envelope out of the pocket of her jean shorts.
I gape at her. My heart bounces, then stops. “Shut up. Is that what I think it is?”
“It was in our mailbox,” Georgia pants, her tightly curled black hair bouncing off her shoulders as she nods. Georgia is gorgeous, and the moment I saw her, I decided we were going to be friends. That was the same day my dad reluctantly dropped me off at Tarsian University two years ago, a massive campus in the heart of the second largest city in Tarsian, Serpentia, on the southern coast of Tarsian. Georgia has dark skin and large, expressive brown eyes. She’s fit and sharp tongued, just like me. When we were freshmen, we haggled with the room directors to let us kick our old roommates to the curb so we could room together, and we’ve been together like this ever since.
She’s from the Roguelands, but her mother is from Crescent Falls, one of those curious wolves who came to Eastonia in search of adventure after the veil was lifted and found her mate instead. There’s a lot of students from families like that here. Students come from all over to attend this prestigious university, which specializes in the natural sciences, art, and history.
Within the alabaster walls of what used to be a grand fortress during Firestone times, the campus is a hotbed of activity. The academics are superb, sure.
But so are the parties.
“Did you see who delivered it!?” I snatch the envelope from her and rip it open.
“I didn’t.” She steps up behind me to read the words over my shoulder. There’s only a few things handwritten in neat, black ink.
“Tonight, 9:00 PM, the Bell Tower?” I say, turning to face her. “The Bell Tower? What kind of party can be had in the Bell Tower? It’s tiny!”
She shrugs, buzzing with nervous energy. “This has to be from the Arcane Umbrae, right? Every rumor we’ve heard, there’s always a black envelope mentioned.”
I point to the letterhead. In red wax, a snake is twisted in a figure eight, eating its own tail. “This is from Arcane Umbrae, all right.” I’d recognize the symbol anywhere. It’s dotted all over Serpentia, carved into the ancient flagstone side streets, carved into doors in random inns and bars. The Order of Arcane Umbrae has been around for centuries and began at this very university, according to legend. It’s a heavily guarded secret, so much so that no one knows who’s a part of it, or what it’s about, or what secrets they’ve been chosen to guard. But occasionally, they threw parties, always in a different location, and I’ve spoken to a few people that have gone, and they were too nervous to give me any details about what happens during those exclusive, secret events.
As a historian, and a know-it-all, I’ve been dying to get this letter. I can die happy now. My life's work has been fulfilled.
“These came with it,” Georgia whispers as she reaches for her bag, pulling out two black masks.
“Creepy,” I whisper, smirking. “I do love a masked ball.”
“We need dresses, stat.”
“Shopping?” I ask excitedly, and she nods, and then we’re squealing and jumping up and down as we throw away any plans we might have had to be good students and study for our upcoming exams.
An hour later, I’m roving the racks in a boutique with a massive pair of sunglasses on my face to hide the fact we stopped for lunch and shared a bottle of wine to celebrate our good luck. Wine goes straight to my head, and I feel a slight headache forming right behind my left eye as Georgia holds up a short black dress for me to examine that I can tell came from Moonrise. “I like it. Try it on.”
“You need something, too.”
I wave my hand in dismissal. Georgia has no idea that I already have a dress picked out for this very moment. I bought it two years ago after I first heard the rumors of the Order of Arcane Umbrae in anticipation of getting my invite, which never came. Until now.
I choose a few dresses to try on but settle on a pair of shoes instead. As we walk to the next store to check out wares shipped in from Veiled Valley, Georgia asks, “So, do you think Nate had anything to do with this? He’s part of the order, isn’t he?”
“I believe so,” I reply with a shrug. “Even if he is, he can’t tell me.” I bite my tongue to stop myself from admitting I rummage through his things every time I stay over at the apartment he shares with two roommates across town. Nate pops up in my mind. Tall and lean, he has a runner's body, which makes sense because he runs long distance for TU’s track team. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, handsome and… well rounded. I enjoy his company. I believe we might be mates, which is an exciting thought. I’d be, like, the first person in my family to find their mate in a normal way instead of a life-threatening twist of fate.
He’s twenty-two already, so he knows we’re mates, but my guess is that he’s keeping it a secret until my upcoming birthday this winter so he can propose when I feel the bond for the first time and then tell me all his dirty Order secrets.
That’s not the reason I’m dating him… of course. I love him. I really do.
“Should you, like, tell him you got the invite?” she asks, looping her arm in mine as we walk across the narrow, cobblestone street toward another row of shops built from bright, alabaster stone with red, pitched roofs.
“No, I think I’ll surprise him. If he’s actually part of the order, of course. If not, I’ll tell him all about it tomorrow!”
We laugh together, both daydreaming about what the night has in store for us, when a quartet of black wolves blocks our progress down the street. I drag Georgia to a halt, a chill snaking down my spine as a group of men steps through a door, surrounding the man in the center of the group.
His head is down as he ducks out of the shop. The hot, tropical sun illuminates his short, sandy blond hair and tan skin.
Georgia grips my forearm, startled, then lowers her head.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“That’s Prince Cole,” she hisses back under her breath.
Instead of bowing my head right away, I narrow my eyes at the man and his entourage. He’s dressed in all black–a fine fitting suit that shows off the promise of a very broad, muscular build. He’s clean shaven, handsome in a polished way that screams royalty and privilege.
His wolves and guards, I assume, pass us by. I bow my head ever so slightly, but keep my eyes on him out of sheer curiosity.
The Alpha King of Tarsian lives far away, in Oasia. What is his son doing here?
The group passes us, and just as I’m starting to lift my head, Prince Cole looks right at me.
Stunning gray eyes hold mine for a fraction of a second before he looks away. My chest tightens. I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“I wonder what brought him to town?” Georgia rushes out, tugging me away, but I’m still watching the group walk down the street.
“There’s unrest in Oasia. Maybe he’s here trying to find new investors for his father’s superhighway.”
Georgia clicks her tongue. “Still bitter about that, huh?”
I take a deep breath, watching the group turn down a street. The prince stops in his tracks and turns to look right at me again.
I straighten my shoulders, narrowing my eyes at him. I swear, even from this distance, I see him smirking as he disappears from view.
“I’m not bitter. I’m just… peeved that busting through the desert to build a highway, when no one here even has cars, was more important than preserving an archeological dig site.” In fact, I’d been torn from that dig site after weeks spent waist deep in sand at the location of what we believed to be an ancient temple, buried for millennia under hundreds of feet of sand. Now, it’s likely gone, paved over.
Fury simmers in my blood.
“Come on, we need to get ready. We need to eat something. I’ve heard these parties are ragers, Misty. Do you want to be on your deathbed with a hangover tomorrow?”
She tugs me forward, walking in the opposite direction of the group of guards and their precious prince.
As we head back to campus, enjoying the warm, fall heat, a voice in my head warns me not to go to the party.
I ignore the voice–like usual.