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“She will return. I’ve already told her I would not mate her until after the trials.” My mate snarls at a woman in a white robe. I lurk under the cover of thick brush and trees, within the darkness of the woods. I assume she is the Immaculate Mother, though his tone would be far too harsh if it were. A simple circlet graces her brow, a small glinting stone in the center. It looks like an opal with all the little rainbow flecks catching the light. Her robe, a lush white velvet with a thick hood, making it difficult to really judge her size or beauty. “She must pass or accept the higher calling.” She says solemnly. “The Goddess guides, but sometimes that guidance is to Her service. We are here, armed with the ancient texts and trials, to make that determination, my Prince.” “She is my mate. Mine.” He counters. He paces as she speaks. Clearly anxious. “Your stars guide you to greatness, my Prince. The Goddess intends for you to one day become King. Your Queen must be worthy of the
The carriage awaits just outside the clearing. A short walk through the trees and a road appears. Road may be generous, the dirt path only wide enough for a single carriage. It’s the type of road you would only be on if you knew of it, the chances of stumbling upon it are slim. “Into the carriage, my child.” She commands, arm outstretched toward the door. A coachman stands at attention next to the door, no hand lent to sturdy my step into my awaiting cage. Follow your path. I repeat to myself as I climb into the carriage. The carriage is plain but that does not mean it isn’t luxurious. The inside is sparsely decorated but richly furnished. I recognize the grain of the wood, a tree only found in the North at the tops of Crescent Moon Pack territory. It’s a sacred tree of the ancients, only one is cut each year, and mostly used for ceremonies. Most decorative pieces are made from fallen limbs, too small to produce a carriage interior. I gently ghost the wood accents with my finger
There is something eerie about caves. The rocks carved out around you by water and wind over thousands of years. The temple is built over this cave system, we descended what felt like miles of stone stairs to arrive at the cave mouth. My body aches from the journey and my activities before. “Remove your robe.” One of the priestesses says to me. These are the first words they have uttered since escorting me to the temple as the Immaculate Mother demanded. I comply, resigned to following along. “These are the sacred springs of Selene. It is said the minerals hold the dreams of Endymion’s endless sleep; the water, the tears of the Goddess for her lover’s endless slumber.” Another priestess explains leading me toward the pool. “This is a ceremonial bath to cleanse you so the Immaculate Mother may see your path.” I suppress the fear rising like bile from my stomach. My mother warned me that the priestesses can detect witches. “We are one. We will push past.” Theia assures me in my mi
There is a hollowness to temples that I enjoy. The smooth white stone floors and endless smooth white walls reaching the massive domed ceiling that must be hung from the sky, it’s so far out of reach. The walls have the same glowing quality of the moon, so finely polished and sparkling. The ceiling depicts the different events of the ancient texts and the phases of the moon are cut in skylights in the sanctuary. The scale is considerably more modest as we walk towards the dining area, the ceiling a less impressive height of an Oak tree. Tall and majestic, but not otherworldly. The walls, still smooth and white, but dotted with official portraits of Immaculate Mother’s from long ago. The fashion unchanged with time, white robe after white robe, the same serene expression. Two doors open and we arrive at the dining hall. The long table is already full of white robed priestesses, perfectly silent standing like pawns on a chessboard behind their chairs, unable to move a space forward. No
“Isn’t it fascinating?” Dmitry asks. I’m at the helm of the stove, my only focus, the collection of bubbling pots in front of me. “Hmm?” I say in response. “That the monarchy forces an exam before allowing anyone in the line of succession to marry their mate.” He says. His tone indicates he has said this exact phrase before, my attention on stews and bread not mates and weddings. “Is it? Elites marry elites, if they can help it. What are the percentages anyways?” I ask. “The process is steeped in mystery.” He says dramatically. “We don’t even know what the process is, let alone how many fail trying to make it through. All we know is when a marriage happens, she must have passed.” “Why do they even waste time teaching this in school if they are not going to teach it?” I ask. “Oh, they don’t teach it, exactly. They teach that the women of the line are deemed worthy by both the Goddess and the ancient rituals of the Kingdom. This ritual is designed to test the worthiness of the can
“Upon the full moon that our Alpha is given his mate, Destiny reveals our Alpha’s fate. For an Alpha born under the approval of the stars, Leads our people righteously in all regards. A mate must pass the Trials to demonstrate their strength, A true Luna will go to any length. Demonstrate the truth of the bond and strength of body and spirit, The ability to pass is destiny- do not fear it! As the Goddess guides, We shall abide! As the wolf controls and the spirit is guided only by honesty, The spirit illuminates the truths we only know subconsciously. To heart and soul Threads bind and make whole. Devotion to the Goddess or to her Alpha mate, The outcome of the trials will determine her fate. “ The Order of the Kingdom of the Moon: Luna Trials I hear the echoes of steps in the stone hallway outside my door before my eyes even dare to open. I look toward the ceiling to the small square window for a shaft of light. Dawn is not yet splashing her colors across the s
The priestesses submit. Even the most steadfast of them eventually break. Their necks all bared to me. Theia hums in gratification. The Immaculate Mother is the first to shift back into her womanly form. She makes no effort to shield her body from me. She stands in her naked glory, no shame on her face, head held high. “There has not been a wolf from the Celestial Alpha line in centuries. The texts say the last wolf of the line waits for their match, which will only come when our true leader, the defender of the faith, is found.” The Immaculate Mother tells me. “Are you trying to say that is you? You are our awaited deliverer?” She says, voice full of doubt. “Impossible!” She studies my wolf. She is searching for something, but I do not know what. I tilt my head trying to understand. She grabs her robe and puts it on. She flips furiously through an ancient book placed on the altar. She abruptly stops, seemingly finding what she was so desperately searching for. “Here!” She shou
“Higher purpose.” I muse. I have read enough religious texts to know that saviors and saints are just martyrs by another name. “May I read the texts, Immaculate Mother?” I ask, seeking clarity. “Once married and sealed to Prince Edward of Fives, you will have access to all sacred texts of the pack. You are not a member of the pack, so you may not read the prophecies and divinations of the Oracles.” She replies sternly. “When shall I become a member?” I inquire. “Once Prince Edward of Fives accepts you within the temple and seals himself to you.” She says. “He will be told of your current success.” She assures. “Your identity as the last wolf of the Celestial Alpha Line will not be discussed until it is confirmed by your marking. You will know my child by the mark they make when they lay claim, A full moon with a sword emblazoned with Selene’s name.” She recites effortlessly. “Was my crescent mark and alpha command not enough?” Theia’s voice rages through me and out of my mouth. A
Some oaths cannot be broken. The thought tumbles in my mind. “It is true. The consequences can be dire when breaking a promise. An oath is sworn with your life.” Theia warns. “A witch is nothing without her word. Our whole existence is built upon the truth that words are powerful and have meaning. A covenant is an agreement, but an oath is a solemn promise. Breaking an oath is not a simple undertaking. The consequences of such actions can be catastrophic and change who you are entirely. To break an oath is a choice of darkness. Embracing the worst that this world has to give.” Asteria chimes in. “Last night, for me, was filled with dreams and nightmares. They don’t even all make sense to me at this point. A mix of my memories, and what I assume the two of you were seeing.” I say. I made an oath to the King, but I would break it in a heartbeat if I thought I could do it and continue to keep my head. Are oaths really oaths if you are under duress? Or is that simply fealty, a forced
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