Chapter Three

III–Proserpina

ALASTOR NYX:

Finally, Harry aimed a kick to his back but Alastor, as though already sensing it, suddenly dodged out of the way, causing Harry to trip on his own two feet, gracelessly flailing his arms about as he fell face-first to the muddy ground with a high-pitched, indignant shriek.

“What the hell's wrong with you?” Harry demanded, spitting out filth.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sean retorted, helping Alastor stand up, “...you did try to kick our own alpha.”

Between labored breaths, Alastor clumsily got on his own two feet and embarrassingly, with Sean's help, his legs trembling a bit as he ignored anything and everyone around him but the one simple fact that he just found his mate and she just freaking melted into the shadows.

Good news? It answers one question: well, duh!–Alastor’s mate is not a werewolf or normal human, after all… bad news? It brought out a lot more of headache inducing questions too such as: what was her name? Who was she? Where did she go? Why did she left? How could she left? Didn't she know?

But what is she?

She couldn't be a witch… the honorary daughters of Hecate aren't that aggressive to actually slay someone with too many witnesses no matter said transgressor’s slight, he didn't even saw her being accompanied by the usual pet familiar either and witches are rarely left on their own unless they could handle themselves or are old grannies.

He couldn't be sure, though... a hunter of the moon goddess, perhaps? No, Artemis, please no... because as much as the very idea greatly concerned him since hunters are sworn to maidenhood, Alastor reasoned out with himself that the hunters of Artemis travel as a large group and made it a point of staying away from werewolves, especially their affairs since their kind were treated as no less than beasts.

Ugh, just thinking about the hunters made him annoyed.

Alastor had heard stories, had been told by Sean over and over again from his own experience what to expect upon meeting a mate for the first time, but never had Alastor imagined the intensity of his own reaction.

Never had he felt such a roller coaster of emotions being evoked by a single person who does personally nothing to him within a span of a minute.

It was spontaneous, frightening, maddening but above all, it was so enchanting–just find her damn it!–and he had never felt so cold, so alone when she turned away without so much as another glance and left him choking and breathless… quite literally.

“It... happened.”

His friends immediately stopped their inane bickering, simultaneously turning to look at him. They knew immediately what he spoke of. Harry looked torn, a strange mix of proud and incredulous while Sean just looked plain horrified.

How long had everyone in their pack been waiting for this moment?

“Wait. Wait a minute. You mean miss gloom and doom back there?” Harry suddenly asked, laughing as he stood up, spreading his arms widely with a shit-eating grin, “Congrats, man! It's a match made in heaven!”

“You mean hell,” Sean snapped, worriedly glancing where Alastor's mate is last spotted, looking like he expected her to pop back into existence.

Alastor wished she did.

“I'm so proud of you, buddy!” Harry was saying, slapping him on the back, “Come on, man, give big old, Uncle Harry a hug–OUCH!”

“You fucking idiot!” Sean yelled, snatching his hand away after slapping Harry across the head, “Don't you recognize the way she fought?”

Harry scowled, looking completely unrepentant as he gingerly massaged his head, “Swords' really not my thing…”

Alastor excitedly turned to Sean, an excited grin automatically making its way on his lips, “Wait Sean, you mean you know her? Dude, why didn’t you just say so? You could have called her and introduced us! We’re friends, right?!”

Sean gaped at the two of them in disbelief, “Are you both for real? Please tell me you’re joking. Come on, guys. This isn’t cool.”

Harry just shrugged, “Eh.”

 “For fuck’s sake, everyone saw and we all recognized her! Why do you thinks the nymphs were so freaked out when she suddenly came close to them? THEY COULD HAVE DIED!” Sean practically screamed the last sentence as he angrily moved his arm about, officially losing it by that point.

“Well, I don't...” Alastor snapped, annoyed and a bit put off with Sean’s freaking out, “…and I'm her mate, you know?”

“You're idiots. Both of you,” Sean groaned, putting a hand on his face, looking like he was regretting his life choices, “Why, moon goddess, why am I always surrounded by idiots?”

“Maybe this is your karma,” Harry supplied, patting him on the shoulder and nodding sagely, “Maybe you were a real jerk in your past life.”

Sean swatted him away.

“Still are,” Harry chortled.

“But I gotta say, never seen anyone fight like that before. I mean, is she an assassin or something? How about one of those 'monster' mercenaries? Weren’t they supposed to be modern ninjas or something? Everyone's literally staring at her though but I mean, who wouldn’t?” Alastor rambled as he scratched his head bashfully, still amazed by what he saw.

Then he noticed his friends staring at him.

“What?” Alastor asked.

“Oh no, Mr. Nyx,” Harry exclaimed with an exaggerated British accent as he pretended to take down notes in the air, “Do continue. We’d love to hear you simp!”

“Fuck you,” Alastor snapped, feeling his cheeks growing warm.

“Aw, love you too, man!”

“But don't you see, Alpha?” Sean demanded, “The eyes, the shadows, hell that sword: she looked and acted like she might be... Proserpina.”

"Wait… the underworld's queen?" Harry blurted out.

“No moron, that's Queen Persephone,” Sean muttered, groaning tiredly under his breath, “...there's a difference. Proserpina is the daughter of Hades. She’s the goddess of shadows: keeper of death, princess and only heir of the underworld.”

“There's a new goddess?”

“What the hell, Sean?” Alastor fumed, resisting the childish urge to stomp his feet, “Why the fuck didn't I know any of this?!”

Sean glared angrily at him, “Oh, I don’t know Al, maybe because you should try attending pack meetings for once, you dimwit?!”

Alastor bit his lower lip, guilty, “W-Whatever, man. Just… just put my shoulder back in place right now!”

“What? Why?”

"Just be quick about it!"

Harry looked mildly concerned as Sean swore under his breath and tried to right Alastor's shoulder back properly. “You... hey Al, you're not seriously planning to follow her, right?”

Wrong question, Alastor snarled, “I just fucking found my mate Harry and now she's gone, gods fucking damn it, I will follow her to the ends of Tartarus if it means I'll have her back with me! She's mine–!”

Sean nudged him sharply, “Enough, Alastor… you know Harry meant well but chasing after a goddess of the underworld seems like a literal death wish.”

Alastor faltered at that, a cloud of doubt suddenly surfacing. Sean’s right, his mate is a goddess of another realm... she could just have about anyone she wanted, especially with a face like that. What if Hades forbade her from seeing him? What if she didn't even like him? Or worse–what if she already had someone else in her life?!

“Okay, okay I get it... but losing your mate is a fate far worse than death, right?” Harry suddenly asked out loud.

“You're not helping!”

. . .

“Maybe love at first sight isn’t what we think it is. Maybe it’s recognizing a soul we loved in a past life and falling in love with them again.”

–Kamand Kojouri

. . .

And naturally, the first time Alastor just had to encounter his mate–the one he'd awaited for so long–the goddess most likely had seen him acting like a complete brute while he was beating up Tony which was all kinds of embarrassing and most certainly, a horrible first impression. Not to mention, he was shirtless and looked like he had picked and lost a fight with a bunch of centaurs.

Oh, and it probably looked like he'd been about to take part of the bacchanalia per tradition after the game... no wonder she had wanted nothing to do with him.

Suddenly, he felt like hitting himself.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit– 

“You… you two will tell no one of this,” Alastor hissed, feeling his face burn in embarrassment and frustration.

“Why not?” Harry complained, hands on his hips, “Dude, I wanna be the first one to post this on Mugbook… just think about the hearts I’ll get!”

“I’m blocking you,” Sean deadpanned.

“Sean just said so genius, she's divine–the elders will have a field day if they find out about this,” Alastor answered, staring over where he last saw her, longingly… until Harry snapped his fingers right in front of his face.  He scowled, slapping Harry’s hand away, “…and besides, she's to be the North's... Luna? Goddess? Whatever the title is, no one should know about her, not until she's marked and mated. Swear it!”

“Alright man, we swear to the Moon not to tell anyone about your unlucky lady,” Harry promised, raising his hands up.

“We swear it,” Sean agreed, solemnly.

The second Sean had popped his shoulder back in, Alastor nodded his thanks and took off at a sprint, speeding through the rain, trying to track the scent of his mate.

“Don’t scare her off!” Harry called after him, laughing.

Alastor ignored him.

Not even an hour ago, he'd just been mourning over another year without his twin, another year stuck and pressured by everyone with a million responsibilities that he'd never thought would fall to him.

As Alastor continued to charge forward, excitement and bliss swelled within him, followed by overwhelming relief when he finally felt her lingering presence, her scent of vanilla and honey had certain lapses, probably due to her travelling through the shadows but it was growing stronger… which means he was gaining on her trail.

Her being incorporeal sure had its advantages.

Clever girl…

But she underestimated him.

Just earlier, Alastor had sworn he would follow her to the depths of Tartarus if it means having her so tracking her like this, no matter how long it takes would be a piece of cake to him, a werewolf with alpha blood running in his veins at that.

The goddess had been destined for him, after all.

And I was born for her...

The damp earth passed and seemed to brush beneath his feet for over at least fifteen minutes as he ran before he finally located where she truly is.

With the natural stealth of his kind, Alastor started prowling closer to the direction where her presence was the strongest, hunting the goddess down in the now drizzling rain. The forest had made it so easy for him to approach the goddess undetected; animals were constantly creeping about, distracting her.

He smirked as he watched the goddess pause in her steps, staring curiously down at a pair of rabbits hopping by for a moment before moving along.

Alastor had to stop himself from sucking in a deep breath lest she heard him. Up close, the goddess was even more stunning than he'd thought of her. With an angelic beauty like that, his mate truly looked like a goddess, but something about her presence felt... odd. 

There was a certain glaze of sadness, a far-away kind of stare in her eyes that somehow reminded Alastor of prisoners of war from historical documentaries he used to watch with Alistair when they were in junior high. His mate looked like she was... haunted. Was it because she is a goddess of the underworld?

Proserpina's delicate features were stunning though–high cheekbones, pouty lips, and a slim nose–but her complexion made her stand out. Her skin was porcelain white and smooth, appearing alabaster in the midst of the rain, her wide eyes the color of the purest obsidian. She is rather tall for a woman, he noted, dressed in a wet black trench coat that clung to her frame. Long black pants fitted and displayed long legs that had him licking his lips.

Her hair was long and dark, matching the color of her eyes, damp but plaited and resting against one slender shoulder that had his hands itching to tear the ribbon off just to have his hands through those strands.

On her right hand, she was holding firmly to her sword. But the edge of a black-colored mark peeking through the back of her neck caught his eye.

Her skin is… tattooed?

Gods, that's so hot.

He would trace his tongue across any tattoos the goddess had, worship her body over and over again once he had her tonight.

At such a delicious thought, he almost growled.

Instead, he silently followed the goddess, watching as she closed in on another prey he'd already sensed hiding way up high in the shadows of the large oak tree just a few steps ahead.

If his mate is truly the goddess Proserpina... then it is highly possible that she possess heightened senses like his own such as powerful hearing and the ability to see through the dark or long distances as her right as the goddess of shadows. And yet, even as an immortal goddess, her sense of smell shouldn’t be nearly as strong like his own which is why she would need to track her target by sight and sound.

And she was doing so expertly... if the way the goddess would suddenly pause in her tracks from time to time–tilting her head in his direction, eyes narrowing–is any indication that she had already sensed his presence.

Without making a sound, the goddess suddenly looked up and faded, her body morphing into a shadowy, dark blur as it soared upwards in such an alarming speed that had him stumbling a step.

A shriek followed soon after.