Prologue

The raging fire swallowed the last stoned home, it's flame burning bright towards the vast horizon as if reaching for the moon. The thick smoke drifted to the heights of the sky, the wind blowing it everywhere. To the north, where bodies of foot warriors lay dead. To the eastern gate, where all women of bay'ala were drenched in cold blood. To the west of the shore, where the spirit warriors - stilled on their coats soaked in the saltiness of the old sea - were gnawed and torn to pieces. And to south, where she stood still behind the thick and tall trees, holding her child against the blistering cold, watching silently but her heart's mind bear deafening screams.

To others, seeing the smoke in the sky meant triumph. Victory. But to her, it filled her heart with immeasurable hate and agony.

And there it was, the village has been burned like Arum himself descend from the sky down and wreaked his wrath. It was a punishment. That was the story most of their kind believed, but for a mother clutching her infant in a distance, watching how scorching fire devoured all she has ever known, it was an injustice. Atrocity.

She sobbed, quietly, and her torn heart even ached at the thought of mourning in silence for all that she's lost. She should bellow, break, and cry to her heart's contempt. She looked beyond the bushed of leaves, face streaming with tears her mouth could even taste the saltiness of it. She should've been there, to perish with her brothers and sisters, but it was that, or save her.

She looked down at the babe in her arms. The thick woven wool covered her frail body from the biting cold. Her eyes resemble her father's. Those black orbs were like a painted night sky, glimmering with stars. Her eyelashes, though still growing, were thick enough to know her daughter will be a charmer, just like his father. It took her back to those memories. Often when she reminisces, it melts her heart in contentment and pure bliss, but the moment she stood to watch as her mated soul was gnawed to death, she knew those memories would eventually haunt her.

Little hands reached for her as she made gibberish words. If she could speak, she would've asked why she cried. Her eyes were soft and confused, staring right at her mother's brown eyes, but she knew comfort as long as she is with her mother. She had always been silent, observing. As though she understood the world by listening.

Her beast stirred in her consciousness. To say she was angry was a subtlety. She feels her pain, as her beast feels hers. They are one, and both feel their agony. Her beast wants retribution, to lash at every wolf they could lay their hands on, but she knows the child must go first. Her safety is paramount, not just because she is her child, but because a hundred of legacy have been sacrificed for her to live.

"We must go." Orav, the oracle said. She would let the poor woman weep if not for the risk it bears. Her heart was pained much as her Lady. Her family, friends, and her sisters burned with the rest of the village, but she must remain strong. There is still much to save. She glanced at the child covered in layers of sheets and caressed her womb without thinking. She knows how her Mai felt. Soon, she will be placed in the same situation, and no doubt she'd do anything for her child.

"The cloak won't hold the scents for too long. They have warriors scouting the forest. It will take them not far before they find us. We must go, Ara mai." she repeated and eyed the thin material covering her lady and the child. She wore the same fabric.

The black cloth is very useful, both in masking their scents and hiding in the dark. She could feel the thickness of the essence imbued in the fabric, it was cold but not icy, wrapping from her neck down to her ankle. She detest it - except for its enchanting smell like a grapefruit - but she knew there was no other option.

She had expected her lady to insist on staying for longer. She'd want that for herself, too, yet she must be wise. She was not a woman to say no, not even to toilsome chores, certainly not for a grieving woman, but she was relieved when she nodded.

They journeyed through the deepness of the thick forest of Northern land. The wind blew harshly, blowing their similar ebony hair in all directions. It was almost the time of winter, and though they could withstand the icy wind unlike the other tribes, they wished they brought more clothes for cover. Her wolf's blood does not suffice for the cold and their strength was drained by the scourge. The cold was as tiring to fight as the walk. She renewed her hold on her child as she keep her teeth from chattering. I'd walk a thousand winters to protect you, she thought to herself.

The sacred lands were blessed by the Moon herself. Trees of different kinds, ones that humans would reap to build their castles, exist in abundance, but in northern lands particularly, the woods could not be used for hunting or even gathering as big roots and tall trunks block any path. She felt a pang in her heart. Her mate paved the path they walk on. Roots and saplings were cut down to clear the way. She glanced at the pile of branches on the sides as she thought of all the hard work her husband has put on. This just meant that he knew, and yet he did, without second thoughts, without regrets.

"How long, Orav?" She asked her attendant, struggling from the cold as well, but she made it look like it was nothing. She cannot show weakness, not on times like this where there is no mate nor alpha to lean on.

The lady was shaking, but she manage to guide them still. "Not long, my lady. Should I shift to carry you?" she offered.

That would be better. She can feel her legs waning each moment, but she declines her generous offer. She knew she needed time to recover. She glanced at her gushes and wound, the trickle of blood oozing out of it, and though her body was bigger than most females, those wounds would not heal faster than they could.

"No, Orav. You must gather your strength. It will be a long journey from the shore." she told her.

The two walked for a few more moments. Orav knew they have gone far from the battle, as the smell of burnt wood and flesh diminishes. The path narrowed down along the way in this path. Some branches and roots weren't properly cut so they had to be careful with the steps and be wary of what was lurking behind the shadow, or else they might find themselves at the foot of Abuwa instead of rowing to safety. Have mercy on our souls. Orav silently prayed.

The dark forest is not kind to any fool, not less to a mother clutching a babe. Thank Abuwa for her light in the darkness of night.

"This way, Ara Mai," She called on her.

It was a tight opening in between the spirals of vines and thorns. It was thick to block any passage, but a line was paved. Orav was first to enter, and she was about to cross it when a low growl erupted from behind the shadows. Golden orbs darted through her, teeth in a snarl, and limbs ready to pounce at any given chance. She turn to the passage to flee, but the thorns and vines were slowly crawling to a close.

"No! No!" she shouted. Her breath hitched. She looked for another way to cross, but only a small hole was enough to fit her arms. From behind the thick wall of vines, Orav knew not what to do. The poor lady shouted for her Ara Mai, digging the thickness of thorns until her hand bled but her efforts were futile as the vines wrap seem to entwine more with each break.

Her tears pooled as she uttered her apologies. "No, please. Forgive me, Ara Maí,"

"Orav," she called on the gentlewoman, breathily. She knew the lady since her youth, being a nursemaid when she was nothing but a mewling babe clutching for a warm hold. And when she turned into a woman, the lady never abandoned her, aiding her help when in great need and standing with her in every battle. Now that she is a mother, she knew she would care for the baby as much as she would. She trusts her to a fault.

She held Orav's bleeding hands from further digging. it smelt of metal and sweetness. "Stop. It must be done," she whispered solemnly. Orav shook her head, heart breaking at every second they were apart.

"Get her," she whispered in great haste, her voice thundered with dominance. The woman only looked at her, pleading and with clear horror.

"Now, Orav! Quickly!"

The vines were creeping to a close, and with trembling hands, she held the child over the small gap. She extends her hands to get the babe, though with a certain question, nonetheless paid heed to her Mai's request. But the wolf, mighty as he was but will never be above the first Blood, clashed against the mother.

"Ara Mai!" Orav was horrified.

She flew three paces to the right. Orav can't see behind the wall of vines, but she heard the child's cry as well as the weeping of the mother and that made her feet colder than it already is.

Then, her mind felt a poke. A soft one, at first, but it quickly became a jab when she attempt to block the link. Her wrath resurfaced when she heard the voice. And slowly, the large beast approaches her, golden eyes slits with hunger.

"Aidi tur'as kaisi, Bayah?"

Can't you see it, Bayah?

His voice is cold and taunting, addressing her for the rightful title in their native tongue. Bayah. The highest oracle. The conduit of the moon's power. Yet, as respectful as her title was, he say it with such mockery.

"Aidi muein saktir dia'no! Abuwa akor'aidi eiq'nor,"

Your blood was of demons. Abuwa rejects your existence!

She used the link to deliver her message. It was not spoken, but she made sure her anger was seeping through the link.

"Naek aisitti aidi er'hakum, Ganur. Abuwa esh maeikitte. Abuwa nuk'ait repair asa! Ada'eni kaisi karsar aluwei!"

"The lies spoken by your filthy mouth will not be forgotten, Ganur. Abuwa never rejects her subjects, but she punishes those who sin! She will see right through your damned soul!"

The glowing orbs darted through her. Soon, the fur was replaced by the skin and he was now standing with his two feet, bare and naked.

"There is no saving the Tikannis," he spoke, using the common tongue. "I will eradicate their faces, names, and legacy off of the world until what's left were just whispers of their existence and their ashes. This I swear upon the moon until my last breath,"

The wind blew, silently. He shifted back on his fur smoothly, the earthy color of it is what she despised the most. The wolf snarled at her and then, he turned to his right, where her Mai lay on the ground, weak and helpless. The wall of vines blocked her sight, and that made it more frightening. She heard her cry and next her curses, and then she begged from behind, but all she could do was bellow.

"No," breathlessly, she begged. She dug once again. And again. She does not care whether she bleeds or lost her fingers. She dug with great need.

It was useless, like her at that moment. The vines twirl back to each other despite her efforts. She could not even watch as Ganur ripped the babe from her mother's clutch. The innocent child, not even lived for a day. It was wailing. She never heard it cry when it was born, only muffled mewlings, and when they traveled she was quiet as an owl. But now, that was the only thing heard in the whole forest and it burned her heart.

"No! No! Please..." She heard the mother. "She is a child, Ganur! Yet to live. Please, spare her. I beg of you!" She begged, her throat strained with shouting.

But it was done. The forest fell silent. The wind died. In her life as an Oracle, silence breeds great peace that holds the kingdom together, but it was the first time she feared silence. It was deafening. Terrifying. Heartbreaking.

She fell on her knee as she felt her strength wane away, like a dust carried by the wind; like a leaf drifting in the current of the waves. What is it that she failed to do? To let her people suffer this torment?

Her bloodied hands touched her belly. It stings with every movement, but she was numb. Too numb to even know physical pain.

Is it because she loved?

Thousands of whispers wash down on her like the current of the unruly river. Regrets, anger, disgust, and pity. She feels as though her head will explode with it, it cannot be quelled.

Is this the moon's will?

Never have she doubted the will of Abuwa. She speaks to her, after all. She was the carrier of her words. But then, who would bestow the highest mercy if not her? Was the Tikanni not worthy of her mercy that even the child was not spared?

She looked over her shoulder to the shore. The dead sea lay over the horizon, its waves unruly and big because of the strong winds under the gleam of the moonlight. She glanced at the wooden boat, enough to fit five people. It was made of hardwood, assembled by Rahi himself. The sailing cloth was tied to the mast, and all its apparatus were ready.

She asks herself whether to leave or not. What she had on her mind was dangerous, and leaving this forsaken land is within her reach, but her heart compelled her to do the opposite. She can't leave. Would not leave, until the death of all her people will be avenged.

Conjuring the moon's power in itself was dangerous, and it is more perilous when a woman - not a maiden - will perform it. She knew the consequences of using the blessing, but her knowledge is limited to what history has written. The ritual has never been done by a woman, and it terrifies her so, but she knew it was the only way.

She looked for the sharpest thorn on the wall. She was quick to pick one, and without a thought pierce it on her wrist. She felt the pang of the sharpness of it but paid no mind as she dragged it from one end to another. Crimson blood began to trickle along her porcelain skin. She passed the thorn to her other hand and began to do the same to her right wrist. She bit her lip to suppress any emotion.

As her blood drooled over the ground, she kneeled and dipped her two fingers onto it, each of the other hand, the stickiness of the blood and dust of the dried soil clung to her skin like a paste, and she used it to paint her face. Starting from her forehead, she ran her fingers down to both her eyes, then to her mouth, and then to her chin. She smelt the familiar scent of the sickeningly sweet metallic, almost slightly salty as the dust mixed into it.

She began to recite the Hakkur– The calling – with a strained voice. Her throat is dry and rough from dehydration and crying, but she uttered the words from the depth of her heart. But the whispers of the winds never brought anything other than the distant smell of burn.

She knew there is a chance the ritual will not work. Five callers were not enough to conjure and stabilize the power, how brazen is she to think she could do it all by herself? Nonetheless, she continued. This time with greater effort and concentration.

She felt hopeless for a fleeting moment when she felt it. The surge of power. The familiar warmth. The tickle. The light.

She cried in relief. Abuwa answered. She embraced the power, imbued it into her being, and rises to her feet. At once, she regained most of her strength. the wounds and torn flesh no longer bothered her. She touched the wall of vines blocking her way, and it was split in half, retracting its stem.

"Ganur," she called with spite in her tongue.

The wolf turns its head towards her. Its golden slits were wide with shock as the blinding light of threads danced around the woman. Her face was smeared red with blood. Ganur never had the opportunity to witness the summoning. He had dreamed of it, almost every lad and girl of his age did, but never anticipated it. It was a rare sight and beautiful, so the saying went. He never thought it was astoundingly blinding.

"You are a mad woman," he said through using the link.

She gritted her teeth and replied using her mind, "That makes the two of us," she used the power to force the beast to shift in his skin. He twisted in pain, bones cracking and snapping about, his screams were heard beyond the thick forest until he fell to his knees. Forcing a shift was like tearing your skin from the inside, and he loathed every second of enduring.

"You will die, Orav. If not, you will be corrupted should you do this." He said, catching his breath.

You have taken everything I have lived for. She had thought. She lifted her hand, and the threads of the moon's power followed her movement. She can't prolong the use of Abuwa's light or she will well vanish in the dust before she could cast the curse.

She wields the power to restrain Ganur on his feet when she saw him escaping. The threads clad him like an iron chain, keeping his feet from moving at all.

She breathed, feeling the immense energy cursing through her veins. The winds surround her, blowing her hair away from her face. The length of her hood flew, revealing her ceremonial white dress. One moment, the power could explode inside her. She must be precise to not let it stray, and quick enough to not put herself at risk.

"By the moon's power, I curse you, Ganur Gaddang, chieftain of Tapakuma," the silver threads creeping onto Ganur's skin, etching themselves inside. He jerked with fear. "to never be loved nor seen by your mated soul as her other half. She shall never feel the pull and the bond. She will see you as her greatest enemy and bring you the pain of those you inflicted twofold. This curse will be passed to your son, and your son's son, until the last born of your bloodline."

The threads were completely sunken on his body. Ganur felt the heaviness of it, etching on his bones. He wriggled his body, in a desperate attempt to shake off the curse as if it was just dust.

"But I am no woman like you," she glanced at the unmoved clutch of cloth that covers the babe, "though moved by my wrath, I could never hurt the innocent that you will sire into this world. Yet, I will not look past the enormities of your doing, and so as the last of my mercy on your kin, these words will break the curse: only united hearts arise from the flames of betrayals and sins shall be freed."

Waves of moon's power was delivered once more to Ganur's skin, settling in to every fibre of his being, sealing the curse completely. Satisfaction sits well in Orav's heart, but still the fire was not extinguished.

"This curse will last a lifetime. No greater power shall ever break it."

The curse was completely bestowed.

It is done.

She released the moon's power. All of the joyous taste of it vanished, but she has never felt fulfilled. But the contentment was short-lived when she saw her Ara Mai, lifeless as her blood pooled on her body. There was a bite on her neck, a clean kill. Not far from her was the child, still covered with sheets. Knowing it would break her heart into pieces, she walk towards the child, every step weighs her down. The horror registered on her face as she took her moment to look at the babe. He had the decency to slay her with claws on her throat, but that did nothing to ease her anger.

"You are a fool to think you have saved yourself," he spoke. His voice rasped and tired. "You might have, but your child was not spared."

She glanced at the man. He was slowly rising to his feet. She took notice of the mark on the right of his neck, from the bottom of his ears down to his nape. The mark of the curse. She remained silent, carefully hearing his words to quell her confusion.

"You have forsaken your child for vengeance. You abhor me, yet we are the same." He said. "Retribution before justice."

I looked down at my belly as I felt a sting. As though a scorching metal marks my skin that made me twitch. I looked back at him, eyes were filled with fear and terror.

"Yes. You have tethered our fate, and our descendants, to a certain damnation."