27. Aria

27

ARIA

I kicked a pebble on the seer’s cluttered floor, holding back the urge to scream. My skin buzzed as if a colony of bees were trapped underneath the surface, a restless energy waiting to break free. It had started after the ritual two weeks ago, and since then, the sensation had built and built, becoming increasingly overwhelming until it was nearly unbearable.

“Will you just listen?” I snapped at the seer, who continued grinding herbs with an absolutely exasperating nonchalance, unfazed by my frustration. I’d known better than to expect a clear answer from him, but I’d hoped for something more than what he was giving me.

He didn’t bother looking up from his mortar and pestle. “Patience, girl.”

“Patience is a luxury I don’t have,” I shot back. “There’s something wrong. Can’t you feel it?”

“Wrong is a matter of perspective,” he said cryptically, deftly sprinkling the crushed herbs into the pot. The boiling liquid emitted a fragrant steam.

“Perspective won’t stop what’s coming.” I threw my hands up and kept pacing.

“Ah, but what is coming?” he mused as he stirred the mixture. “That, girl, is the question. What of the male one? Was he present at the time of the ritual?”

“Stop it with the riddles.” I glared at the seer’s back. “If you’d listened to me, you’d have heard me tell you Atticus was there during the ritual. Maybe that’s why?—”

“Atticus. Yes, yes that’s the boy.” Oh, yeah, now he turned to look me in the eye. “What of your relationship with him?”

“That’s none of your business.” Annoyance flared at his prying. “Can we focus on the problem?”

He shifted his attention back to his concoction. “Relationships are often the problem.”

“Look, we’re not together, okay?” I said, more harshly than I intended.

“You foolish girl,” he scolded, forcefully stirring another ingredient into the pot. “Everything was there. What have you done? All you had to do was follow the instructions that were clearly laid out for you.”

His words were a slap in the face. “How can you stand there and say you laid it out clearly when you’re instructions were as clear as mud?”

“Clarity is in the eye of the beholder,” he said with a dismissive wave.

“Great help you are,” I muttered.

Patches, the ragged purple cat, one eye hidden beneath a bedraggled leather patch, sat on a small table. He emitted a low yowl. He looked forlorn, and I wondered if he missed Atticus as much as I did. When Atticus and I had first come to visit the seer, the feline had taken great delight in jumping up and perching on his shoulder, purring as if it were its rightful place.

“Quit moping, Patches,” I said softly, scratching the spot behind his ear. He blinked his single eye slowly, as if acknowledging the shared loss.

“Focus on what’s important,” Ilaric, who’d accompanied me today, said.

“Easy for you to say.” I felt anything but focused. How could I focus when I was so exhausted? Since the ritual, the forest had undergone an unsettling change, as if the energy had become distorted. It didn’t help that we were all inundated with the presence of the spirits Atticus and I had unleashed during the ritual.

Seren, bless her, had it so much harder because her magic called to them. That hadn’t stopped her and me from researching to find a solution. After getting nowhere with the books available to us, Ilaric had counseled me to visit the seer, but so far, we weren’t getting any answers. Being here was just as exasperating as I remembered, and it fueled my mounting unease.

“Why can’t you just tell me what to do?” I pressed the old man, the buzzing beneath my skin growing more insistent, fraying what little patience I had left.

The seer shook his head, his attention back on the bubbling mixture in front of him. “I can’t lead you by the nose, child. Free will is a delicate thing. Mess with it and the whole tapestry of the future changes.”

“Surely there’s a way?—”

“Even a simple thought can shift fate’s path,” he said, stirring the concoction. “Knowing too much is as dangerous as knowing too little. It’s about balance. Always balance.”

“Balance.”

“Now you understand.” It felt like he was talking more to his potion than to me.

Ilaric leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the look on his face suggesting he had heard this all before.

Patches moved to perch on a stack of scrolls next to me. The cat watched the seer with an almost judgmental twist of his lips before turning his single eye toward me. He made a soft chirruping noise, which I took as a call for attention.

“All right, Patches.” I sighed and scratched him behind his ear again. His purr vibrated through the silence, a comforting sound amidst my confusion.

Patches bumped his head against my hand. That simple act caused the pile of scrolls underneath him to lose their precarious balance. As the cat gracefully leaped to safety, parchment scattered in all directions, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air.

“See?” The seer gestured broadly at the mayhem. “It takes so little to upset the equilibrium. What was once order is now a mess of discord. Just like everything around us, girlie.”

“Great analogy,” I muttered as I picked up a crumpled scroll and carefully rolled it back up. The seer didn’t seem to care about the disarray.

“Let’s not forget why we’re here,” Ilaric said. “Remember the importance of your choices.”

“Right,” I said, straightening. “My choices.” But I still felt clueless about the decisions pressing down on me.

Patches, now settled among the mess he’d made, looked up at me with an expression that seemed to say, ‘What’s next?’

“Thanks for the help,” I told the cat dryly. He blinked slowly as if acknowledging the humor in our plight.

“So what now?” I asked, trying to stay calm. “According to you, I’ve got a mess on my hands. What am I supposed to do about it?”

The seer leaned back in his chair, eyeing me with that unnerving gaze of his. “Clean it up. It won’t be easy. You’ll need to make sacrifices, let go of long-held beliefs, break old habits.”

“Vague much?” I snapped, even as Ilaric’s stern look warned me to temper my impatience.

“Inner healing, self-work,” the seer continued, ignoring my tone. “That’s how you’ll see your path forward clearly. There’s a lot at stake. I hope you are in a position to handle it.”

With a sigh, he started pouring his potion into glass bottles, grumbling about “kids these days” and their inability to “follow simple instructions”.

“Can you give me anything concrete to work with?” I pressed, clenching my fists. “Some direction at least?”

“Nothing is concrete,” he retorted, and I could tell from his furrowed brow that he was holding back a lecture. “Each whisper in your ear has the power to reshape the future. Every decision you make changes fate, and let’s face it, you’ve made some terrible ones recently.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” His words stung. I thought about Atticus, about the ritual, and how fear had kept my heart caged.

“Your fear, your negative feelings, your lack of trust—it’s holding you back,” the seer said, and damn it, he was right.

I hadn’t trusted enough to move forward with Atticus. Still. “Trust is earned,” I countered defensively.

“Sometimes,” Ilaric said in that calm and measured tone of his, “trust is also given freely, as a leap of faith.”

I looked at the two of them, a mouse caught in a trap. They were telling me the same thing in different ways. While I couldn’t see the full picture yet, I sensed the outline of it emerging from the fog of my uncertainty.

I yanked at my shirt, frustration boiling over as I exposed the crescent moon birthmark on my collarbone. Markings appeared around it after the ritual and had slowly evolved into a network of intricate lines that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

“Well, what of this? Can you at least help me figure out what the fuck this means?” My tone was harsher than I intended, the words cutting through the oppressive silence of the seer’s cave.

The eccentric seer leaned in closer, his voice hitching as he whispered, “Oh, dear.” His fingers hovered above the strange symbols. “May I?”

Nodding in agreement, I kept my eyes fixed on his face as he traced the intricate markings. An unexpected surge of static electricity raced through my veins when he touched me, amplifying the incessant hum beneath my skin that had been building since the ritual.

He jerked his hand back as if scorched. “Too much power. The balance is off. Too much power.” He began pacing in the cramped space. “There’s no way to fix it, but...” His words trailed off into a string of incomprehensible mutterings.

Too much power. The balance. What the fuck did it all mean? It all sounded like the nonsensical ramblings of a madman. Coming here had been a waste of time. But a sense of undeniable truth stirred the ball of nerves in my stomach. I glanced at Ilaric, hoping for some reassurance, but I found none. Instead, his face reflected the gravity of my situation.

“Let’s get out of here,” I muttered, eager to put as much distance between myself and the seer. His reaction unsettled me. Ilaric nodded, and we turned our backs on the disarray of the cave.

As we stepped onto the path leading toward Silver Claw territory, the forest seemed to come alive around us. Whispers danced on the wind, carrying with them a sense of urgency that matched my inner turmoil. Sudden gusts appeared to hasten my steps in the direction of home. Dark clouds loomed above, heavy with foreboding.

“Everything feels wrong,” I admitted to Ilaric, the rustling leaves nearly drowning out my words.

Ilaric kept looking forward, but I felt his attention. “The world is reacting. We must tread carefully.”

My instincts screamed for action, not caution. The storm on the horizon mirrored the one brewing within me. Both promised a reckoning neither the Silver Claw territory nor I was prepared for.

The wind howled through the forest, louder now, as if it was responding to my unrest. I stopped mid-step as the birds hidden in the trees erupted in a cacophony of caws, their voices fading into the thick foliage of the ancient canopy. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Something’s not right.” I peered into the dense trees and vegetation surrounding us as if it held the answers I sought.

“The ritual has awakened forces long dormant, Aria,” Ilaric said. “Nature’s response to imbalance is to correct itself, often in ways we cannot foresee. We need to make sure we are open and flexible to the change needed for the rebalancing process.”

I ran a hand over my face. His wise words felt like yet another riddle, further fueling the frustration the seer had already kindled.

“How am I supposed to do that? Just wait and see?” I snapped.

“The world is a tapestry of light and dark. Your leadership will be the thread that weaves through it, stitching the pieces together to form a whole again. Trust in the bonds that unite, for they will be your greatest strength.”

“Great, more metaphors,” I muttered.

Ilaric placed a hand on my shoulder, offering me comfort. “I know you think we speak in riddles to frustrate you, Aria, but it’s so much more than that. No one can tell you how to fix this. You performed the ritual, and now you must preserve the threads of your own destiny. While I am here to support you, I cannot interfere with fate. Doing so directly may create a further imbalance and result in more unintended outcomes.”

I was tired of all these cryptic suggestions. What I really needed was something solid I could grasp on to. “I need to clear my head. Let’s shift and run back.”

Without waiting for his response, I let my human form fall away, welcoming the rush of my wolf emerging. The forest transformed into a whirlwind of sights, sounds, and smells as I took off running, the undergrowth a muddle of brown and green as we raced through it. The thud of my paws against the ground reverberated through the forest until the steady rhythm of our footfalls and the heavy panting were all I could hear.

The familiar terrain changed unexpectedly, and I realized we were no longer on the route home. My fur bristled in response to the mystical energy guiding us away from Silver Claw territory until we came to a lush, vibrant clearing where the magic was alive and potent.

“Is this...?” I started but couldn’t finish the thought.

Once again, the forest had directed me to the spot where I had first found myself trapped in a human’s snare. The spot where Atticus and I had first met. Where we had revealed our birthmarks to one another. This clearing didn’t just have a special significance for me. It was also a nexus of power within the ancient woods. Here, the magic was powerful, the plants flourished with a vitality that was noticeably absent in the areas closer to the territories where things had been declining, even before the ritual.

Ilaric shifted. “We’re not the only ones the forest called out to,” he said, gesturing across the clearing where Atticus and Mia stood.

I shifted back to my human form and immediately became aware of the intense discomfort beneath my skin, amplified by the rush of nervous energy. Finding it impossible to remain still, I opened and closed my fists, then shook my hands to release the pressure that accumulated. I focused on a daisy at my feet, slowed my breathing, and counted its petals to distract from the painful sensation in my body that had become my constant unwanted companion.

“We have some things to figure out, I suppose now is as good a time as any,” I said to Ilaric when I’d composed myself.

I looked up just in time to see Atticus turning to leave. “Atticus,” I called, but the howling of the wind swallowed it whole.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, and so much passed between us. Words unspoken, feelings unresolved—it all lingered there, raw and untamed, a web of emotions too complex to unravel in that single moment. As quickly as our eyes had met, he turned away again.

There was a noticeable change to him. His commanding presence now seemed burdened, as if he was carrying an unseen load. Shadows clung to him like a second skin. My gut twisted. I was all too familiar with that look—it stared back at me every time I looked in the mirror.

The exhaustion etched on his face concerned me, as if he hadn’t slept from the time I’d told him I didn’t want him.

My father’s death had thrust me into the role of alpha. I’d made a commitment to devote myself entirely to the pack. I couldn’t hold the position of alpha in the Silver Claw pack with Atticus by my side. Not right now, not when so much was new to me, when I had so much to figure out and correct.

Perhaps I was over-analyzing, but Atticus’s hesitant gestures and the look in his eyes made it clear he was wrestling with something. As much as I wanted to, I struggled to find the right words to reach out to him.

Ilaric remained on the sidelines, his presence offering silent support. Mia caught his eye. Something passed between them, something I couldn’t quite put words to. Whatever it was, it was deep and personal, and though I knew better than to pry, I’d ask him about it later.

“Seems the forest has a way of bringing us together,” I said, trying to break the uneasy silence. Atticus merely nodded, scanning the trees as if they held secrets waiting to be discovered. The birdsong, a taunting chorus, underscored the emptiness between us.

“We’re trying to fix this. What happened with the ritual, I mean. I don’t think there’s a book in the library that Seren hasn’t read. She even roped Eldan in, has him fetching and carrying books from every corner of the manor,” I babbled. I gestured to Ilaric and myself. “We’re just on our way back. We went to visit the seer.”

“Did you now?” Atticus replied distantly.

“Yeah, and Patches...” I hesitated, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the situation. “He missed you. Kept looking for you. I think he wanted your shoulder to perch on.”

“Is that right?” Atticus said. A hint of warmth spread across his face, a fleeting moment of levity that soon vanished.

“That cat’s got good taste,” I added, hoping to draw out that rare grin of his. He didn’t bite.

“Guess he does,” he said, then stepped back, letting me know our time here was drawing to a close.

“You’re managing all right? And the others? Everyone’s okay?” My voice faltered, betraying my attempt to sound casual.

“Surviving,” Atticus said, his tone clipped. The word hung in the air, heavy with everything he didn’t say.

“Good, that’s... good.”

The silence stretched on, filling the space between us with memories of what we had once shared.

The sky turned dark as heavy raindrops fell through the canopy, and the first deafening crack of thunder reverberated through the air. It matched the uproar I felt inside. We both knew we couldn’t stay here in this clearing, not with the weather turning and everything left unsaid hanging heavy around us.

“Take care,” Atticus finally said.

“You too.” There was so much I wanted to say, but the words refused to come out.

He nodded sharply, the once-vibrant gleam in his eyes now dull. Without another word, Atticus and Mia turned and walked away, heading towards the cave that he’d made into a home for his chosen family.

Suddenly, the sky unleashed a deluge of rain, drenching me in seconds. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the realization that whatever path lay ahead, I would have to navigate without him.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Ilaric said. I barely registered his words. All I could picture was Atticus’s hunched shoulders, all I could feel was the raw ache that something vital was missing. I missed him.

“Is he okay?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

“Hard to say,” Ilaric said gently.

I hesitated, watching the space where Atticus had stood. It felt wrong, leaving things like this, leaving him like this. What could I do? My heart ached and cried out for solace. Our paths had diverged, and now the physical and emotional distance between us was greater than ever. Should I try to bridge the gap or would any attempt to reach out only deepen the wounds I’d inflicted in the first place?

I shuddered as an unfamiliar sensation spread through me, like a thread pulling taut between Atticus and me. Was it his sorrow I felt, or my own echoing back at me?

Atticus had gone above and beyond for Silver Claw. He’d not only brought his chosen family to the fight, he’d rallied the other rogues to stand with us against Crimson Fang. Our society had progressed in many ways, but certain deeply ingrained prejudices remained.

Even though I loved him with all my heart, I couldn’t ignore my duty to the pack. I had a responsibility to show them I could be the alpha they needed. That required setting aside personal desires and focusing on the pack. The raindrops mingled with the tears on my cheeks as I turned into Ilaric’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

In a sudden burst of energy accompanied by a resounding crack, the clearing transformed into a blinding white expanse. The clash of thunder and lightning merged into a single force as the forked tongue of light descended through the forest’s canopy, hitting the ground with a deafening impact, right where Atticus and Mia had been moments before.

Ilaric said nothing, but the fear on his face mirrored my own. In silence, we shifted and scurried back to Silver Claw territory.