The Prince made his way to the stage to announce the winners of the wine competition. The crowd cheers his entrance to the stage with enthusiasm. The Prince raises his port glass in toast, which is echoed by the crowd. “Long Live King Amon!” He roars. “Long Live the—“ An explosion booms from the stage. My ears are ringing as I try to make sense of what just happened. The King’s guard swarming the Prince in protective formation. Wasps protecting the nest. Strike first, contemplate later. Screams of chaos and breaking glass are all I can hear. I look around for Dmitry. Maristela. Agatha. The familiar faces of my house. All I see is panic, chaos, and breaking wine glasses. The screams then shift to shrills of pure panic and intense fear. The guard shooting arrows into the crowd, some shifting into massive wolves. The drool dripping from their glistening teeth bared and snarling. I shelter under the table and see Osiris and my mother already there. Coward. A wolf rips the throat f
Weeks had passed and no culprit was uncovered. Everyone is speculating and whispering conspiracy theories. Was it rogues? Other packs trying to damage our relationship with the crown? Angry peasants? Conspirators trying to shift the line of succession? Or my personal favorite, the witches of the black woods. I have always relished in stories of the witches of the woods. The legends say they drink the blood of young women to stay youthful. My father would always laugh when I would tell the stories I had heard of the black woods. “Legends, my dear girl!” He would laugh. “I’m afraid the truth is far more boring than you imagine.”Thoughts of witches and spells would have to wait for another day. I am to report to the temple this morning. A werewolf’s 18th birthday is one of the most important days of their lives. At midnight on the day you were born you officially meet and then shift into your wolf. It is the night your soul is bonded to the wolf gifted to you by the Goddess. My sto
People never really discuss the real mechanics of shifting. It is only spoken of in riddles and euphemisms. My father’s saying probably holds true here, the truth is far more boring than you imagined. I take pleasure in the little things though, and magic can be discovered even in the mundane. The walk to the temple is uneventful. As I pass people on the road a few give encouragement and blessings but most give a quiet nod of understanding. The temple is simple in design. A large complex on a massive estate. Vineyards and gardens being worked by priestesses and acolytes. Others come to work the gardens as an act of penance or charity. The food grown here supplies many temples around the realm. It is also sold and traded for other goods that are needed but not donated. The grounds are impeccably kept. Not one thing out of place. I walk towards the large temple doors. As I pull the door open, two others arrive for their ceremonies as well. I recognized the boy as a stable hand. He
The pink stains of sunset blot the sky as we make our way out of the baths and into our moon chamber. I was wrapped in a simple white robe. My feet bare against the cold stone floor of the temple. “May the Goddess bless you.” The priestess murmured as she locked me in the chamber.Now I wait. I sit cross legged on the floor and look to the sky. There is still quite some time before midnight. The light is almost completely gone. I close my eyes and rest my head against the stone wall. “Awaken.” I hear a strong female voice. “Who’s there?” I say aloud. My voice echoes in the chamber. When she spoke there had been no echo. In the darkness I see two Violet eyes staring at me. A wolf emerges from the darkness. “It is I who spoke, but mind to mind not aloud.” I hear her voice but her mouth does not move. “C-can you hear me?” I thought to myself, unsure if it would work. “Yes, I hear everything. I see everything.” She says slowly. I study her for a moment. She is large, especially for
I felt the tingling first. My whole body was on pins and needles. Then came the pain. I understand why descriptions are in riddles or euphemisms, there are not words to describe the feeling. Yes, there is absolutely pain. It is more than that though. The pain is almost disorienting, as your body shifts into a wolf. Then you are a wolf. I am a wolf!The freedom I feel is indescribable. I take a step. The cold stone floor presses against the pads of my feet. It doesn’t feel as cold as it did with my bare human feet. I look up to the sky searching for the moon. I howl. A long sorrowful howl. Like I’m calling for someone or something far away from me. “What was that?” I ask not sure what it all means. “That’s a story for another time.” Theia says flatly. “When will all these stories be told?” “When we are alone. Safe. We are not safe to speak freely here.” She warns. I do not respond. I hear soft steps from the hallway. A priestess peers in through the window of the door. She ga
The sun's first rays are illuminating the road as I step out of the temple. Acolytes, priestesses, worshippers, and volunteers are starting to shuffle around for morning prayers and chores. Theia and I are silent as a walk through the temple grounds towards the outer gates. I’m exhausted. It is taking all my focus just to put one foot in front of the other. “Do we always walk so slow and awkwardly?” Theia grumbles. “Do you want to be the one to walk?” I ask in a sharp tone. She sighs deeply. We both know I do not have the energy or strength to shift. Silence. “Tell me one of your stories then. I walk, you talk.” I say breaking the silence. Nothing. I reach the edge of the estate. I don’t really want to answer questions or work right now. I walk into the fields towards my garden. I might get lucky and find some ripe tomatoes or berries still on vines. I run my fingers through the fragrant herbs, making the pungent smells waft toward me. I will miss this place. These lands. My
“The world can be a terrible place. In the face of evil, a true alpha will stand his ground and fight for what’s right.” My father says solemnly “Like you, Papa?” I squeak. “I hope I am that Alpha when the time comes.” He says with a very serious tone. It seems like the statement means more than the meaning I understand. He glances worriedly at my mother. The fire cast shadows across her face and it is hard to read her expression. Her belly is so swollen with my brother that her expression was hard to catch in the shadows. “It was not a choice of strength that the Alpha of Crescent Moon made, but out of panic, Crescent Moon submitted. Malakai saw this as weakness. The alpha submitted from fear. A true Alpha is not afraid.” My father continues. The fire is casting shadows around him, like witches around a cauldron. “When it comes to our children though, appearing weak means little if it saves the child. He only had one child, a son to take over the pack.” My father gently places
“Do you plan to tell it or is it not story time again?” I ask. “It seems there are many stories to tell. I’m not sure which you would like to hear first.”“When there’s so much I don’t know, I’m not sure where you should start.” I say honestly.Theia sighs. I embrace the silence between us. On a cellular level we are connected. It’s intimate but also invasive. It’s comforting to always feel someone with you, but also terrifying and claustrophobic. “There are many planes to exist upon.” She begins, thoughtfully. “These planes can exist with or without your knowledge, and are in most cases self-contained.”She pauses before continuing, “The Gods and Goddesses are not bound to a singular plane. They can move and influence different planes of existence. This is the terrestrial plane of your birth.”I can see the fields of the estate in my mind. The wheat grasses bending with the wind, as if ghosts delicately danced upon them, in an invisible ball upon the fields. I could smell the deep
I hear a soft rapping at my door. I tear myself from the sheets like a petulant child, stomping towards the doorway. The warmth of my bed calling to me. I don’t think I’m ready to be shoved into a bath and corseted into a gown. I feel as if I have not even shut my eyes, let alone gotten any rest. “I’m coming.” I say, in a decidedly grumpy voice. I put the most sincerest grumpy tired face expression that I can muster, and open the door. “What?” The hallway is empty. I cannot even hear distant footsteps of maids and servants performing their daily task list. A list that starts the moment their eyes open and does not end again until they close. The realization washes over me with shame. I think back to the endless hours, scrubbing dishes, scrubbing floors, standing over hot stoves. I looked to my arms to see all the faint scars I have accumulated over my years. Each one with their own story. The time I sliced my hand open or when I burnt myself on the edge of a pot because I wasn’t t
Your highness. I suppose it is better than being a slave, though your name is surrendered just the same. Instead of no one caring to know your name they are forbidden to speak it, it’s traded in for formal titles. This elevation does not bring freedom, rather luxurious chains, forced to follow antiquated traditions. It is not the same as being an actual slave though. To compare it as such is a denigration. A lie. One cannot be both slave and master, though it seems even masters have masters to bow to. The breakfast I consumed without having to perform any labor only underscores my place in the pecking order, now far above the one I used to enjoy. I struggle to enjoy my new position when Dmitry has been left behind. I should rest though. I am to be a bride today. The wedding is less about me and more about the future of the monarchy. The continuation of Malakai’s line through history. I am only the womb used to usher in this future greatness. The wedding itself is largely performat
“Breakfast is already in your chambers.” Phoebe reassures, her delicate hand still clasping mine. “Thank you, Priestess Phoebe. I appreciate your consideration.” We fall into a comfortable silence. The floors of the temple are cold on my naked feet, my soles made soft and delicate by the last month of wearing shoes. I am only steps away from being a Princess, living a fairytale and touring the Kingdom. I cannot help but feel tragedy lurking in the shadows. A beast so insidious, patiently waiting to strike at your most triumphant moment. The climb up the social ladder feels like a climb that ends with me jumping to my death. I breathe deeply and allow the sound of our swishing robes lull me into calmness. I am greeted by the smell of breakfast when the door to my room is opened. “Such a feast!” I squeal like an excited child. “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” Phoebe scolds. “Then join me, priestess. There is more than enough for us both.”“Thank you, m’lady.”The formalit
Ceres“Papa! Papa! I think I have something!” I squeak. My little body wiggling, unable to control the overwhelming excitement that has washed over me. My tiny childish hands reach for my father, precariously balancing in the small rowboat. “Shhh! Hush. You will scare away all the fish.” He says gently. His heavy hands lovingly placed on my shoulders, calming me instantly. “You have plenty of time to make waves in your life, you need not do it when we are trying to fish.” He gently scolds. “Yes, papa.”“Now, let’s check that line. Reel it in gently but steady, then flick to set the hook.” He demonstrates the process on his own rod. I begin to reel it in, quietly squealing with glee, pulling it in as my father had shown me many times before. Springtime on the lake, learning to live off the land. “You must be able to provide for yourself.” That is what my father would say when I would complain about waking before the sun. Early morning on the lake is what heaven must be like. The w
Theia The air is crisp, the dew covers the ground and little droplets stick to my fur like tiny little pearls. Running in this form is so freeing. I wish it could always be just like this. “Catch me if you can!” I call as I weave through the branches and mossy stones. I do not even see his form, a shadow in the darkness, when he pounces on me and we roll down a small embankment. “Gotcha!” He gleefully remarks. The heat from his body presses against mine and I do not struggle or squirm under him. I am content to be here in his snare. “I didn’t even see you!” “Did you say that you owe me a wish? Do I now have two?” “No! I made no promise of another wish granted. I do owe you one though, so choose wisely.” He looks deeply into my eyes. “Yes. I will have to be thoughtful in what I choose.” I could get lost in his golden orbs. The fire in his stare. His darkness to my light. “We should go. The sun is already threatening to break the horizon. Dawn is here, it is o
Theia “The sun will rise soon.” I murmur. I stretch my legs out lazily. “We can speak of magic some other time.”“Some other time.” Erebus parrots back. His voice slow and lazy, as if considering the next possible occasion. “You are not lying if we agree to keep what has happened between us.” I say, breaking the silence between us. “That is quite literally called lying by omission.” “No, it’s keeping something sacred between us.”“You can dress a sow in silk gown, but that will not make her a Queen. Just because you call it something else doesn’t make it something else.”“Two things can be true.” “Yes, I suppose. That doesn’t mean it sits right with me.”“Oracles are not the Goddess. There is no guarantee that my mark will even look as the book tells it.”“Your optimism knows no bounds.” He quips sarcastically. “We pledged ourselves to one another. This bond is above all others. Period.” I growl, his insistence on calling me out is getting under my skin. No one wants an honest a
CeresDarkness can swallow you whole. The void of nothingness. I cannot even see Theia or Asteria anymore. Their thoughts are shielded from me, yet I can feel the veil thinning. I can feel my resurgence, my resurrection into my physical form. It is coming, I can feel the electricity in the air. “Ceres!”A voice calls to me from the abyss of nothingness surrounding me. I do not recognize the call. It is not Asteria or Theia’s voice calling. No one else should be here. “Come my child, come to my voice.”I have read enough fairytales to be suspicious of mystery voices calling from the dark. Their honeyed calls disguise their horrific intentions. Harpies calling from the cliffs, lulling you to your death. Do such creatures lurk in this place, this in between space, where I have no control? I am just a battered ship being tossed around the sea, only to steer myself into a rocky grave, calling to me so sweetly from beyond my vision. I will not blindly go towards the faceless voice in the
Theia“There is no affection in power. Power consumes all and no price is too high to pay to keep it. Edward may believe that his Grandfather’s love for him is unconditional, but I am not so naive.” Erebus growls. “Any threat to the King’s power will be eliminated. Period.”The truth weighs heavy. Silence settles within the cave. “Will the Immaculate Mother reveal the truth to the King?” I ask after a long bout of silence. “You said it yourself. Information you do not know, but want; is valuable.”“I have not read the myths of this prophecy. The Oracle Chronicle of the First King. I believe that is what the Immaculate Mother called it. Have you or Edward studied this?” “Edward is aware of all the sacred texts of the Kingdom. He has spent his entire life preparing to be King.”“What will he do when he discovers that I am the defender of the faith? Destined to fight in a battle and be the savior of the Kingdom? Will he see that as treason and address accordingly?”“I would like to sa
Asteria “Your majesty, I beg your forgiveness and show of mercy!” The man splayed on the marble floor before us is dressed in tattered rags. His pants are cinched tightly with a belt made of woven fibers tattered with filth and age. His shirt is worn thin where the fabric rests upon his jagged bones, patches along the sleeves and shoulders create a haphazard mishmash of colors and textures with no discernible pattern. I stand a few steps above him, Prince Aares on a throne at the top of the stairs of the pedestal behind me. He must always be above, both figuratively and literally. I am simply a silent statuette, an observer of the tragic comedy before me, an ornament placed before the Prince, his child bride blooming in front of the court in realtime. My unflinching gaze witnessing the violence and cruelty. There was never any mercy to be found here. “Is it true that you hunted a stag in the woods?” Prince Aares questions. I already know the outcome of this. There is nothing sp