Chapter 3: A Ring For My Troubles

"You . . . you know?" My voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

Kema’s golden eyes locked onto mine, unwavering and piercing. “Of course, I know,” he said bluntly, his tone calm yet sharp. “You think I wouldn’t recognize the signs?”

My legs felt like they might give out as the weight of his words settled over me.

'He knew. Then . . .' I summoned the courage to look him directly in the eyes—but that didn't last, as I'd dropped my gaze just as fast to the ground, both frightened and red-faced. "Then why did you lie for me? I don't understand?" I cringed, and took some steps back. Still looking away from him, I asked, "What do you want?"

"If I wanted you dead . . ." he said, walking to me. For some reason, I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. Even the stupid beast in me didn't help this time. "You'd be dead." He added when he got close enough to hold my arm. His grasp was firm—dominating.

“You’re lucky I found you before they did,” he continued, his voice deep and resolute, like everything about him. He let go of my arm, and his large hands gripped my shoulders, grounding me in place. “And you’re even luckier that we were already hunting down that rogue werewolf from earlier, all the way from the border.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight.

There was something about the way he spoke to me that made me feel like a small child. I didn't like it one bit.

His hands, so capable of crushing me, released my shoulders, leaving behind a phantom pressure. I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t even manage to string words together. So I nodded mutely, like a child accepting a reprimand they barely understood.

Maybe I was a small child after all.

Kema sighed deeply, the sharpness of his expression softening just enough to make him seem less dangerous. He reached into a leather pouch at his waist and withdrew a simple silver ring. It glinted faintly in the moonlight, catching my attention like a hook.

“Take this,” he said, holding out the ring.

I stared at it, unmoving. “What . . . what is it?”

“It’s what you need to stay in control,” he replied, his voice steady and unyielding. “This ring will suppress the werewolf inside you. It will silence its voice and keep its instincts in submission.” His golden eyes bore into mine, their intensity unsettling. “But you must never—never—take it off.”

My fingers trembled as I reached for the ring. The cold metal sent a shiver through me as I slipped it onto my finger. A strange warmth spread through my body, and the oppressive growl of the beast—the dark, deathly whispers that had haunted me for weeks—faded into silence.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I was alone in my mind.

“You’re eighteen, yes?” Kema asked, pulling a small vial from his leather pouch. Before I could answer, he tilted his head back and downed the potion in one fluid motion. His throat bobbed with each gulp, and I caught myself staring, my breath hitching. I didn’t know when the hunger rose inside me.

‘The beast . . . it’s messing with me again,’ I thought, shoving the feeling down.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve awakened your magic,” he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Even that simple gesture sent heat crawling up my neck. “Or isn’t eighteen the age for the awakening ritual?”

“My awakening is next week,” I managed to say, my voice uneven. Relief washed over me when he didn’t look my way, but confusion soon bubbled up alongside it. “Why are you doing this?” I asked softly, barely above a whisper. “You know what I am. You know what I’ve done.”

Kema studied me for a long moment, his expression difficult to read. “What you are doesn’t matter as much as who you choose to become,” he said finally, his tone softer but his words weighted with meaning. “The world won’t be kind to you, girl. If you want to survive, you’ll need to prove your worth. That’s why you should join the Watchers after you awaken your magic.”

I paused, taken aback. “The Watchers?”

He gave a quick nod. “Without discipline, you’re a danger—to yourself and everyone else. The Watchers will teach you control and give you a purpose. More importantly, they’ll protect you.”

His words hung in the air like a challenge.

I glanced at the ring again, its faint warmth an overwhelming reminder of everything I didn’t understand about myself. I'd always imagined her to be a perception of my dark side that I may have created as a child, which just never seemed to have gone away with age—that was until the first transformation, where I got to know her true form. But there was no need to tell him all that.

‘He can think whatever he wants, as long as he'll let me go,’ I thought, keeping my expression neutral.

Without another word, Kema turned and disappeared into the forest.