18. Aria

18

ARIA

S eren’s wide eyes darted back and forth as if she could see things in the corners that I couldn’t. I reached out and grabbed her trembling hands, holding them tight to still them.

“Talk to me,” I implored.

She looked at me, unfocused, as if she were seeing through me to another world entirely. “They won’t leave me alone,” she said, her tone tugging at something in me—a need to protect, to comfort. “The spirits... they’re everywhere, whispering, warning...” She trailed off, a shudder racking her slender frame.

I pulled my friend into my arms, wishing I could protect her from this. Her fear was raw and contagious. The breeze that usually would have teased my skin was now filled with the echoes of her despair.

“Listen to me,” I said. “You are not alone in this. I’m here, and I’ll help you silence them.”

Seren leaned into me, seeking solace in my hug as she fought the unseen forces that hounded her. Ragged gasps left her, each one sending a ripple of urgency through me. There was a wildness about her, a desperation that called to the deepest part of my being, stirring a fervor to fight off whatever haunted her.

“Focus on me. Let me be the anchor that keeps you here,” I said with a passion that went beyond mere friendship.

Seren’s body gradually relaxed against mine, her breathing slowing as I continued to murmur reassurances, stroking soothing circles on her back.

“Nothing will harm you. Not while I’m here.” I would move heaven and earth to keep her safe. The thought of her suffering like this enraged me. But right now, all that mattered was Seren’s well-being.

“Stay with me,” I said, the plea a reflection of my own need to ensure she was real, away from the phantoms that sought to drag her into madness.

After a while, she was strong enough to get up. She paced back and forth, shaking her hands every few minutes.

“I’m losing my mind!” Seren exclaimed. “Your absence… it’s been noticed, and whispers have turned into roars.” Her eyes were wild, hunted.

“Talk to me,” I said gently, trying to keep her in the present. “What’s happening out there?”

“The pack is fracturing,” she wailed. “People are questioning Ragnar, doubting his abilities. Larkin is sowing dissent, fostering alliances under the guise of concern.”

I clenched my fists, anger mingling with a fear that ate at my insides. Larkin had always been ambitious, but this? This was a betrayal.

“Is that why the spirits won’t leave you alone?” I asked.

Seren nodded. “They’re screaming warnings, prophecies of doom. The Crimson Fang, they’re not just any pack. They possess something. Something potent and vile, a weapon unfamiliar and formidable. One that can rip the heart out of the forest.”

The seer’s words echoed in my ears: one road riddled with fear leading to destruction . Fear was a familiar adversary, one that had shaped too many of my choices already. But this was different. It signaled a threat that loomed over us all, casting long doubts across our fate.

My absence, once a necessary play for the greater good, now seemed a dereliction of duty. I had left my people vulnerable to the serpentine charm of Larkin’s deceit, a man who wore ambition as a second skin, his intentions as clear as the moon on a cloudless night.

“Damn him,” I cursed. The guilt refused to end. I should have been here for my pack to rally around instead of being a ghost haunting their lives. “I’ve failed them. I let Larkin weave his web of lies while I chased prophecies.”

Seren lifted her head, her tear-streaked face searching mine. “You haven’t failed anyone,” she said. “You’re doing everything you can to protect us.”

Silver Claw needed more than just protection. They needed a leader, a true alpha who understood the bonds, the faith we placed in one another.

“Should we tell my father?” I asked. “Atticus and I tried. I don’t understand what hold Larkin has over him. I think he might be starting to believe me, but he’s so fucking stubborn. If he’d just open his eyes, he’d see what was happening in front of him. Instead, he’s listening to the elders, those out-of-touch old fools, and insisting I mate with Larkin. Maybe with you by my side, maybe if we tell him what the spirits are telling you, maybe…”

Seren just stared at me.

“You’re right,” I said with a sigh. “If we tell him, we’d have to tell him about your ability. It would undoubtedly invite old prejudices, and we’d just see the skepticism and scorn cloud his eyes once again.”

I shook my head against the frustration. No, going to my father was a bad idea. He was stubborn, and the more I pushed him, the more he’d refuse to budge purely on principle. Going to him would also jeopardize Seren’s position within the pack. If we told him that she could communicate with the spirits, my father would share it with his advisors. And what they didn’t understand, they feared. They would cast Seren out of the pack, and we’d be no farther along with the Crimson Fang and Larkin’s deceit.

Atticus was wrong. This burden, it seemed, was mine and mine alone to bear.

With another sigh, I nodded decisively. “Let’s go see Ilaric.”

Seren agreed without hesitation, the unrelenting torment from her spectral visitors dimming her usual vibrancy. We would seek the wisdom of an old soul, one whose insight had never steered me wrong.

We walked across the grounds to a cabin set far in the corner, leaves crunching under our boots. The small structure, with its log walls and moss-covered roof, had a rustic charm and stood as a testament to simpler times.

“Ilaric?” I called out, pushing open the creaky wooden door. Fire crackled in the hearth, and the rich aroma of herbs drifted down from the plants hanging from the rafters.

Ilaric was hunched over a table scattered with texts and curious trinkets. His eyes, sharp as ever, bore into us as if peering straight into the marrow of our souls.

“Sorry for interrupting you,” I said.

“Trouble does not wait for invitations,” he said, his face softening. “Now, tell me what brings the future alpha and her troubled friend to my humble abode.”

We spilled forth our problems—the unrest in the pack, Larkin’s scheming, and the dire prophecies from the spirits. Ilaric listened intently, stroking his bearded chin as he absorbed every word.

“Your burdens are heavy, but they are not yours to carry alone,” he said. “Remember, the alpha leads not by dominance, but by earning the trust of those they guide.”

Seren clung to his every word with hope in her eyes. Perhaps here we could find the guidance we so desperately sought.

“Will you help us navigate these treacherous waters for the sake of our pack? Our family?” I asked.

Ilaric nodded, an unreadable expression settling on his weathered face. “Tell me again what the seer said to you.”

I sighed, closing my eyes to better recall the haunting words. “He said that darkness would threaten to engulf our world, but light could still prevail through unity and strength.” I met Ilaric’s steady gaze. “But what does it mean? How do we find this unity when distrust is festering in our own ranks?”

He considered my words, the lines on his face deepening. “The seer speaks in riddles, yet there is truth in it. It’s not just about fighting the darkness outside… it is about quelling the shadows that divide us.”

His insight struck a chord, and I teetered on an epiphany.

“Larkin is cunning,” he said. “He knows how to exploit fear and uncertainty. But remember, a pack is more than its loudest voices. It’s a community, built from trust and common purpose.”

His words conjured up images of Atticus and his chosen family, a tapestry of individuals, each thread unique yet indispensable. They were disparate pieces, yet together, they formed a picture of harmony I yearned to replicate in my own pack.

They supported each other without question, their faults acknowledged but never used as weapons. They carried one another’s burdens, their shoulders broad enough for the weight of shared troubles. In every trial, they found encouragement and love, an unspoken pledge to uphold one another against the struggles of life.

“Atticus has shown you another way, hasn’t he?” Ilaric broke into my reverie with uncanny perception.

“Yes, he has,” I answered. “And perhaps it’s time we learn to be more like the rogues. To truly see and accept each other, to foster the gifts we’ve been hiding.”

“Then let that be your guiding star,” Ilaric advised. “Unity in diversity, strength in acceptance. That’s how you’ll heal the fractures. How you’ll prepare the Silver Claw for whatever lies ahead.”

And then, I understood. The way forward was fraught with challenges, but it was also aglow with possibility.

“Heal the pack, and Larkin’s influence will wane,” Ilaric said with an unshakeable calm. “But be vigilant, for his ambition will not fade easily.”

I nodded, feeling the truth of his words deep in my bones. It was a directive that was both monumental and elusive. To heal the pack was akin to mending a tapestry of souls, complex and interwoven.

“Have you been practicing your water bending?” Ilaric’s sudden change of subject caught me off-guard.

“Practicing?” I repeated, almost laughing. “Well, if you count making whirlpools in the bathtub an extensive routine, then sure.”

My attempt at humor fell flat when he raised an unamused eyebrow.

“According to the books I’ve found, I’ll need to create a water barrier around the triskele,” I said. “But that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

The triskele. A symbol of protection, of unity—exactly what I needed to bring to our pack. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. The notion of wielding such power was daunting, yet somehow, I knew I could do it.

“Practice,” Ilaric said. “Your abilities are not just parlor tricks for idle amusement. They’re a part of you, as much as the blood that runs through your veins. Do not neglect them.”

“You’re right. I’ll practice,” I said. “I won’t let this pack, our family, succumb to division.”

Ilaric offered a curt nod, satisfied with my commitment. “Good. Remember, focus is key. Let the energy flow from inside, guide it with purpose.” He studied Seren now. “Stop fighting yourself. Embrace the spirits, or they’ll consume you.”

I watched how despair seemed to drape over her. “You are the wielder,” I said, my words borrowed from Ilaric’s wisdom. “Your power is profound, a gift bestowed upon you. Not many can claim such a connection to the ethereal world.”

Seren wrapped her arms around herself. “A gift?” she scoffed, laughing bitterly. “This ‘gift’ feels more like a curse, a constant whispering madness that I can’t escape.”

“Let him help you,” I urged. “Ilaric’s guidance will help you control the chaos. He sees the splendor in what haunts you.”

She met my gaze, searching for my certainty. “And what if I can’t master it?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” Ilaric said. “Find another way.”

Seren nodded a tentative acceptance. She stood. “I will try,” she said, the iron in her tone belying her previous unease. She walked out of Ilaric’s cabin without another word.

As the door closed behind her, the silence returned, but it was no longer oppressive.

“I will try as well,” I said softly, then leaned down to press a soft kiss to Ilaric’s wrinkled temple. “Thank you.”

After leaving the cabin, I entered the communal area of Silver Claw pack lands, a place that had always been a stronghold of unity and shared purpose for our kind. The tension wound around me like a serpent, squeezing tighter with each step I took. The familiar murmurings of my pack, once filled with camaraderie and laughter, had fallen silent, replaced by a heavy stillness that clung to my skin and threatened to suffocate me.

I sensed it then, the simmering disquiet that bubbled just beneath the surface, waiting for the trigger that would make it erupt. They were questioning, probing, seeking answers I wasn’t sure I had. But I was the future alpha; I couldn’t let my uncertainty show. So, I squared my shoulders, my stance firm.

“Problems, Aria?”

The challenge came from a broad-shouldered shifter whose piercing ice-blue eyes held betrayal. His words carried across the crowd, stirring whispers among the rest.

“Concerns,” I corrected him smoothly. “Concerns that are being addressed.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” said another, who came forward with a defiance that matched the set of her jaw. “Ragnar’s leadership is in question, and you...” Her accusatory gaze raked over me. “You’ve been absent when we needed you most.”

Anger flared in me, but I forced myself to remain composed. “My actions, though unseen, have always been for the benefit of this pack,” I said.

The crowd before me fidgeted, their bodies tense with unreleased energy. In their eyes, I found their need for reassurance, for stability. Things I yearned to provide, but struggled to maintain myself. If only they could understand the unseen battles, the ones that raged beyond their sight, perhaps then they would see the truth behind my so-called absence.

“Leadership isn’t just about visible action,” I said. “It’s about making hard choices. About protecting this pack from threats you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“Where have you been?” a voice rang out. A man, his furrowed brow marked by worry as much as challenge, stepped forward from the crowd. “While the pack grapples with uncertainty, our alpha’s daughter is nowhere to be seen.”

They didn’t know what I was doing in order to save them. That ominous tick-tock of the clock moving on sounded in my brain. I was running out of time. I didn’t have the ability to talk them down one at a time and learn the ritual and the triskele. My lips parted to respond, to defend my choices, but another presence brushed against my side, lending me their silent strength.

“Easy,” Seren murmured to me, her hand clasping mine in support. “They don’t understand, but we do.”

Before I could squeeze her hand in gratitude, another figure emerged from the crowd. Eldan, his imposing frame parting the sea of shifters. His eyes blazed with loyalty as he strode toward us.

“Listen to her,” Eldan boomed, commanding attention. “You’re seeing shadows because you’re in the dark. You don’t have the full story.”

I gazed at him in surprise. Eldan, who had once held the same rigid views as my father, now stood firmly by my side. It was proof that our bonds, formed through shared trials and unwavering support, were unbreakable.

“Thank you,” I said. To see him there, a pillar among pillars, helped more than he’d ever know. “Whatever path lies before us,” I said to the pack, “we walk it together. Trust that I am doing all I can to protect this pack and our future. Believe me when I say that nothing is more important to me than this pack. Every choice I make, every action I take, is to fortify us against the coming storm. Your faith in me might have wavered, but know this—I am as much a part of Silver Claw as my father, as you are, as these lands we love so much.”

A young woman glared at me. “But where does that leave us? We hear rumors, unsettling whispers. We are confused. We deserve an explanation.”

I felt it then, the raw nerves of our pack laid bare. There was a need to be their true selves, their innate gifts suppressed by a culture of misunderstanding, the legacy of my father’s leadership.

This was the moment, the fulcrum on which the future teetered. My absence, my secrecy, bore down on me with an urgency that demanded action. Turning toward the fountain that stood in the middle of the area, I felt the thrum of water beneath the stone calling to me. I stepped closer and extended my hands.

“Watch and listen,” I said.

A torrent of energy coursed through me as I focused, and the water responded to my silent command. It ascended, spiraling up into a column that danced and twisted in the air. It was a captivating display, a swirling proof of the power I had kept hidden for far too long.

The column of water rose above me, its undulations a dance of magic and serenity. It hovered there, suspended in the charged silence of my pack gathered around me. Their eyes, wide with awe and uncertainty, were fixed on me—their future alpha—and the elemental spectacle I had summoned.

“Strange and scary times are indeed upon us,” I said. It was time they understood that my absence was not from neglect. It had been a necessity. “Whatever you have heard, I promise you I have not been avoiding the pack or my duties. I have been preparing to become the leader you need in these perilous times.”

The energy pulsed in me, a rhythm that matched the beating hearts of my pack. I was no longer the girl who acted on whims and raw passion. The fires of trials yet to come had shaped me, made me into the woman I was now.

The water began to descend, gently cascading back into the fountain, reclaiming its rightful place.

“I am here now,” I said. “Ready to lead us to greatness.” Outwardly, I was the epitome of calm, a lighthouse standing firm against the ocean, but inside, I trembled. “To face whatever threats may come. I am your future alpha, and I will not let us falter.”

I released the last vestiges of my control over the water, and it splashed back into the basin with the softest of sounds, a whisper of acquiescence to my command. There was a collective exhale from the crowd, the tension releasing in tiny ripples that mirrored the settling surface of the fountain’s pool.

“Is it true?” the same young girl asked. “There are rumors about a prophecy. Is it real?”

I swallowed hard. I was often too quick to let my emotions steer my actions. But now, standing before my pack, my words would shape our fate.

“Yes,” I answered. “There is a prophecy.”

They were scared, and rightly so. The unknown had always been the most fertile ground for fear to take root.

“This prophecy speaks of a time of great change,” I continued. “Of challenges that will test us all.” I paused, letting the words sink in, heavy with the promise of trials yet to come. But it wasn’t just a warning; it was a herald of something more, something bright and piercing in its potential.

“But it also speaks of hope, of a path to a stronger, united future.” My own conviction surprised me. “Trust in this, my family,” I said. “We are unbreakable. Our bonds, our love, they are the weapons with which we will carve out our future from the stones of adversity.”

I could see I had won them over. They slowly dispersed, breaking off into twos and threes to discuss this new information.

The crowd’s murmurs had barely faded when Eldan’s voice, low and tinged with disbelief, reached my ears. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he said.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “I was afraid to tell you,” I admitted. “Afraid that you’d think less of me.”

Eldan’s face softened, and he took a step closer. “I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me,” he said, a sigh escaping him as if he were letting go of old burdens. “I’ve been grappling with some false ideals from my past. But I am working on it, and I will always support you.”

“Thank you,” I said, touched by his sincerity.

I turned away and considered going to my room, but the thought of having four walls around me was too oppressive. Instead, I headed into the forest. With each step away from the Silver Claw’s oppressive walls, my soul felt free, knowing I could find solace in Atticus.

The woods were alive with a strange energy. Branches whipped back and forth, their leaves hissing secrets that only the wind could understand. I pushed forward, my need, my yearning, driving me to find him.

The wind picked up as I moved toward the den. The violence of the gusts matched my inner turmoil, the roar of it drowning out my fears. The trail narrowed, and the dense foliage seemed to reach out for me, snagging at my clothes with desperate fingers. Soon, the gale became merciless, an unrelenting force that seemed to embody the tumult inside me. Each gust threatened to sweep me off my feet, but I pushed on, needing refuge both from the elements and my own spiraling mind.

Just when I thought the wind might blow me back to my father’s manor, the mysterious shack materialized before me, an unexpected haven to shelter me from nature’s fury. It stood stubbornly against the onslaught as if it, too, was fighting its own battles.

I stumbled forward, reaching for the door with hands numbed from the cold. It groaned as it gave way, granting me entry into the dim interior.

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I noticed details of the shack I had never taken the time to study before. Shelves brimming with jars of dried herbs and roots lined the walls. A small fireplace sat cold and unused, the ashes speaking of fires long extinguished.

Moving deeper into the space, I came upon a sturdy desk cluttered with maps and scrolls. Tucked amongst these were sketches, beautiful and intricate renderings of plants and wildlife. These drawings held stories, secrets of the forest that could be unlocked with careful observation and patience.

I studied a drawing of a wolf mid-howl, marveling at the detail.

A heavy tome caught my eye, its cover drawn with symbols that danced and shifted. It called me to open it, to uncover the truths hidden in its pages. Reverently, I flipped through the page, not understanding the words at all.

“Prophecies and puzzles.” I sighed, closing the book with care. “Why must fate be so cryptic?”

From the corner of my eye, I caught a faint glint. I followed it and found a collection of crystals, each pulsing with an inner light that defied the gloom. They were arranged in a deliberate pattern that reminded me so much of the diagram for the ritual Atticus and I had come across in the pages of the book we’d found in this very shack.

“Is this another piece of the puzzle? Are you part of this prophecy, too?” I asked the crystals as if they’d answer me.

In the dimly lit confines of the shack, I marveled at the meticulous arrangement of beakers and vials, each one filled with substances whose hues rivaled the most vivid twilight sky. Just as the seer had promised, I’d been given what I needed. A single piece of parchment lay beside them, its edges curling ever so slightly. The instructions on the parchment next to it all were written in a steady script that was both elegant and assertive. It obviously wanted me to create something—and who was I to resist?

Gathering my hair in one hand, I tied it back to keep it out of my face while I worked. I rolled up my sleeves, ready to face this new challenge with the same fervor I wielded in defense of my pack.

The ingredients called out to me, each a puzzle piece waiting to be placed. I followed the instructions with a precision I never knew I possessed, my every movement deliberate, honoring the craft and the critical role it played in our survival. The vibrant liquids swirled, dancing in a mesmerizing display of color and light.

The safety glasses perched on the shelf caught my eye, and a wry smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. With all the weight of Lycanterra pressing down on me, the notion of donning those glasses was almost a playful reprieve from reality. I reached for them.

“Time to embrace my inner scientist.” I slid the glasses onto my face with a flourish. It was a bizarre kind of thrill, the anticipation of concocting something that could very well tip the scales of destiny.

In this makeshift laboratory, I felt at home. Here, the elements bent to my will, not just in the magical sense, but also through the meticulous science that sprawled before me. My fingers danced over the vials, each one containing a promise or a peril.

The instructions on the parchment guided me through the alchemical process. I measured out powders with precision, and my hands were meticulously steady as they poured liquids from beaker to beaker. The colors swirled, an ethereal dance right under my fingertips.

As the substances mingled and reacted, I leaned in close, watching the solution change, evolve, become more than the sum of its parts. There was a beauty in it, an artistry. This was creation in its purest form. These ingredients would help me finish the triskele. This was the next step. It was everything the book had told me I’d need.

Warmth filled me from the inside out. I had accomplished something on my own. This was more than a potion or an ingredient. It was hope crystallized into tangible form.