I woke up to silence. A deafening, suffocating silence. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles flickering on the nightstand. My body felt heavy, drained of all energy, like I had been hollowed out from the inside. A dull ache throbbed in my stomach, but nothing compared to the unbearable emptiness clawing at my soul. Then I remembered. The pain. The blood. The agonizing screams that had torn from my throat as I begged the universe to spare him. My child. My baby. My chest heaved, but no tears came. I had cried everything out. I was nothing but an empty shell now. A movement to my right caught my attention, and I turned my head slightly. Jake sat in the chair beside my bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. His head was bowed, dark hair falling over his face, but even in the dim light, I could see the tension in his body. He was barely holding himself together. I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Jake…” His head snapped
The world felt different. Colder. Emptier. Days had passed since I lost my baby, but it felt like time had frozen. The sun still rose, but it didn’t shine the same. The wind still blew, but it didn’t carry warmth. The pack moved around me as if life continued as usual, but I couldn’t feel it. Everything had dulled, stripped of color and meaning. But the worst part of it all—the thing that made it unbearable—was Jake. He was slipping away from me. At first, I thought it was just grief. He buried himself in work, focused on rebuilding the pack, strengthening its warriors, and tightening its defenses. I understood. I did the same in my own way, throwing myself into research, looking for answers, hoping—praying—that there was still something I could do. But it wasn’t just grief. It was something more. He was changing. The first time I noticed it was during training. I stood on the edge of the training field, watching him spar with his warriors. Normally, Jake was controlle
The wind outside howled like a wounded beast, rattling against the windows of our bedroom. I sat curled up on the bed, staring at the flickering candlelight, lost in the void of my thoughts. It had been days—weeks, maybe—since I had truly allowed myself to feel anything but pain.Grief was a strange thing. Some days, it felt like drowning in deep, dark waters with no way to surface. Other days, it was a dull ache, like an old wound that never quite healed. The nights were the worst, though. That was when the silence grew unbearable, when I swore I could still feel my child’s presence, even though he was gone.Jake had been distant, too. Not in the way that meant he didn’t care—no, his love was still there, burning just as fiercely. But he was grieving in his own way, carrying the weight of our loss on his shoulders, his guilt, and pain suffocating him.Tonight, I couldn’t take it anymore.I slipped out of bed, the floor cold beneath my bare feet. My body still felt weak, my magic stil
PRESENT DAYI sighed as my father drove me to school it felt like I was being dragged to hell. Just a few weeks ago, I was living comfortably with my mom, Emily McHawlin, my world as normal as it could get. Now, I was living with a man I barely knew. A man I had believed was dead my entire life. My father, Daniel, who had suddenly emerged from the shadows, insisting he was back for my own good. Life has a funny way of slapping you in the face when you least expect it, twisting fate in ways that leave you breathless.I shook my head, still unable to fully process the turn my life had taken. A new father, a new home, and now, a new school.I pulled my cross-body bag off the shelf and stuffed a few notebooks inside, trying to focus on the mundane task. My thoughts raced as I questioned how I even agreed to this. Me, Prisca McHawlin, starting a new life on someone else’s terms. Daniel had convinced me it was “healthy” to get back into a routine, but there was nothing healthy about this si
The cold air from the classroom made my skin prickle. I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the room, and for a moment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t just the chill, but a creeping sensation, like invisible eyes were on me, watching my every move. The walls seemed to close in, dark shadows stretching across the floor, the corners of the room cloaked in dim light. I blinked, trying to shake the sensation, convincing myself it was just my nerves. Bryan nudged me gently. “You okay?” “Yeah,” I whispered, forcing a smile, though my insides churned with unease. “Just... the cold air.” Bryan looked around the room and shrugged. “Yeah, this place has a weird vibe sometimes. It’s always freezing in here. You’ll get used to it.” He smiled warmly and gestured for me to follow him to a pair of empty seats toward the back. I slipped into the chair next to him, placing my bag on the floor, still hyperaware of my surroundings. The classroom wasn’t particularly la
Three days had passed so quickly, I could hardly believe it. High school was turning out to be survivable, and living with Daniel was slowly becoming less awkward. My friendship with Bryan had also grown closer, and I was grateful for that. He was easy to talk to, and I found comfort in his presence. But everyone at school had made up their minds that Bryan was my boyfriend. The rumors didn’t bother me, and Bryan didn’t seem to care either. We actually laughed about it.The weather here in Zimbabwe was usually blistering, the kind that made my skin feel like it was roasting under the sun’s relentless rays. Days like today, when the world felt hushed under the weight of the clouds, were a rare blessing.I decided to call Bryan it was a good day for a hot cheesy pizza anyways.---The pizza place was buzzing with the usual lunchtime crowd, a mix of students and families crowding around the red-checkered tables. Bryan and I snagged a booth by the window, and I tried to focus on our conver
Bryan nodded. “Okay.”When I went to collect the pizza, one of the girls from the group reached out and held my hand. “The new moon awaits,” she said.I looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?” I asked, almost whispering. She stared at me as if she was seeing straight into my soul.“The new moon will open your eyes, the new moon will be your light. Trust the new—” Before she could finish, a blond guy grabbed her hand, and she snapped out of whatever trance she was in, suddenly looking terrified.“Sorry about that,” the guy said, his green eyes focused on the girl. “Sophie gets a bit weird sometimes and starts saying things that don’t make sense.”Sophie blinked a couple of times, then forced a nervous smile. She looked like she was still too scared to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Please excuse us,” she said, clinging to the guy’s hand as they walked away.I just nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. My thoughts were interrupted by the piz
I woke up the next Sunday morning feeling extremely sick and overheated. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead, and I felt as if I were wrapped in a heavy blanket even though I wasn’t covered by anything. I didn’t even want to get out of bed. Struggling to sit up straight, I glanced at the small clock on the table beside my bed. Damn! It was already 10:00 a.m.! Why hadn’t Daniel woken me up like he usually did? Sunlight filtered through my curtains, casting patterns of light on the floor, but even that seemed blinding. I tried to get out of bed, but as soon as I stood up, I almost fell over. My legs felt numb, and I could feel heat rising from my feet, spreading through my entire body in waves, like fire snaking up my veins. “Oh my God,” I muttered, feeling unbearably hot. I grabbed the table to steady myself and looked at the picture of my mother, her eyes seeming to look back at me with concern. “Give me strength,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “What’s happening to me?” The s
The wind outside howled like a wounded beast, rattling against the windows of our bedroom. I sat curled up on the bed, staring at the flickering candlelight, lost in the void of my thoughts. It had been days—weeks, maybe—since I had truly allowed myself to feel anything but pain.Grief was a strange thing. Some days, it felt like drowning in deep, dark waters with no way to surface. Other days, it was a dull ache, like an old wound that never quite healed. The nights were the worst, though. That was when the silence grew unbearable, when I swore I could still feel my child’s presence, even though he was gone.Jake had been distant, too. Not in the way that meant he didn’t care—no, his love was still there, burning just as fiercely. But he was grieving in his own way, carrying the weight of our loss on his shoulders, his guilt, and pain suffocating him.Tonight, I couldn’t take it anymore.I slipped out of bed, the floor cold beneath my bare feet. My body still felt weak, my magic stil
The world felt different. Colder. Emptier. Days had passed since I lost my baby, but it felt like time had frozen. The sun still rose, but it didn’t shine the same. The wind still blew, but it didn’t carry warmth. The pack moved around me as if life continued as usual, but I couldn’t feel it. Everything had dulled, stripped of color and meaning. But the worst part of it all—the thing that made it unbearable—was Jake. He was slipping away from me. At first, I thought it was just grief. He buried himself in work, focused on rebuilding the pack, strengthening its warriors, and tightening its defenses. I understood. I did the same in my own way, throwing myself into research, looking for answers, hoping—praying—that there was still something I could do. But it wasn’t just grief. It was something more. He was changing. The first time I noticed it was during training. I stood on the edge of the training field, watching him spar with his warriors. Normally, Jake was controlle
I woke up to silence. A deafening, suffocating silence. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles flickering on the nightstand. My body felt heavy, drained of all energy, like I had been hollowed out from the inside. A dull ache throbbed in my stomach, but nothing compared to the unbearable emptiness clawing at my soul. Then I remembered. The pain. The blood. The agonizing screams that had torn from my throat as I begged the universe to spare him. My child. My baby. My chest heaved, but no tears came. I had cried everything out. I was nothing but an empty shell now. A movement to my right caught my attention, and I turned my head slightly. Jake sat in the chair beside my bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. His head was bowed, dark hair falling over his face, but even in the dim light, I could see the tension in his body. He was barely holding himself together. I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Jake…” His head snapped
The morning was peaceful, deceptively so. The kind of quiet that made my heart uneasy. The pack had been rebuilding itself from the damage done in recent months, and today felt like a fresh start—or at least I tried to convince myself of that.I sat at the large wooden table in the packhouse, sipping tea while watching Fatima and Sophie bicker about who made the better breakfast. The scent of eggs, sausage, and pancakes filled the air, and for a moment, everything felt normal. Jake was out with his warriors, reinforcing our border patrols, while Althea and I planned another round of protective spells for the territory.“Are you going to eat that or just stare at it?” Fatima asked, nudging my plate with her fork.I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at my food for too long. My appetite had been all over the place lately—some days I couldn’t eat enough, and others, I could barely stomach anything.“I’m eating, I’m eating,” I mumbled, picking up my fork and forcing a bite of eggs into m
PRISCA’S POVI woke up with a sharp gasp, my lungs burning as if I had been holding my breath for too long. The room was still dark, and the only sound was the soft rustling of the wind outside. My body felt heavy, my limbs sluggish, and an eerie chill wrapped around me despite the warmth of the blankets. Something was wrong. I pushed myself up slowly, trying to shake off the discomfort. The feeling in the air wasn’t just cold—it was unnatural. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed darker than usual, stretching and pulsing as if they were alive. My heart pounded as I glanced toward the door, expecting something—anything—to be there. But the room was empty. Just a bad dream, I told myself. A side effect of everything weighing on me. But as I moved to stand, a voice whispered in my ear. *"You must listen."* I froze. My entire body tensed as cold dread seeped into my bones. Slowly, I turned my head toward the mirror in the corner of the room. My reflection should
I sat in my office, staring at the wall as the weight of everything threatened to crush me. My mate, my unborn child, my pack—everything was hanging by a thread, and I felt powerless. Prisca had finally told me the truth, and it shattered me in ways I couldn’t put into words. She was given an impossible choice. One where no matter what she decided, she would lose something—either our child or me. How the hell was I supposed to accept that? My fingers clenched into fists against my desk as a growl rumbled low in my chest. No. I wouldn’t accept it. Fate had already tried to take too much from me. I had lost warriors, friends, people who depended on me to lead them. But my family? That was where I drew the line. There had to be another way. I pushed back from my desk and stood, my muscles tense as I made my decision. I couldn’t sit here and wait for fate to take its course. I had to act. I walked out of my office and made my way down the dimly lit halls of the packhouse. Most o
The moment I stepped into our bedroom, I knew something was wrong. Prisca sat on the edge of the bed, her back to me, staring out the window. The moonlight cast a soft glow on her, making her seem almost ethereal, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away. She was deep in thought, troubled. Lately, she'd been distant. At first, I chalked it up to the pregnancy—mood swings, exhaustion, the usual things that came with carrying a child. But this was different. There was something *heavier* weighing on her, something she wasn’t telling me. I had given her space, thinking maybe she just needed time to process things on her own, but time had only made it worse. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Prisca, what's going on?" She flinched. *Flinched.* I immediately withdrew my hand, my stomach twisting. My mate had never reacted to me like that before. She turned to face me, her expression unreadable. “Nothing, Jake. I’m just t
I spent the entire morning with Althea, flipping through ancient grimoires, searching desperately for a spell that could summon Esther. My hands trembled as I traced the inked symbols in an old book, my mind racing with the possibilities of what we might discover. We had been through this before, and every attempt had failed. But this time, it felt different. This time, we needed answers. The room was dimly lit, the scent of burning sage and lavender thick in the air. The candles flickered unnaturally, as if something unseen was already lurking, waiting for us to call upon it. I swallowed hard and looked at my sister. “Are you sure about this?” Althea asked, her voice steady but filled with caution. “Summoning a spirit isn’t like calling on just any entity. Esther is powerful, and she’s—” “Unpredictable?” I finished for her. Althea nodded. “To say the least.” I clenched my fists, my determination outweighing my fear. “I don’t have a choice, Althea. I need to know how to save
I woke up feeling… strange. It wasn’t the usual exhaustion from pregnancy or the occasional morning sickness. This was different. It was as if something unseen crackled in the air around me, a tingling sensation running up and down my spine. My dreams had been odd, but that wasn’t new—I had been plagued with visions ever since we returned to the pack. Shaking off the unease, I sat up and stretched. The room was quiet, sunlight filtering in through the curtains, but something felt off. I glanced around, half expecting something to be lurking in the shadows. Nothing. Just my mind playing tricks on me. "Okay, Prisca. Breathe," I muttered to myself before sliding out of bed. As I padded to the bathroom, the floorboards creaked louder than usual. The second I stepped onto the tile, the faucet turned on by itself, water gushing out forcefully as if someone had yanked it open. I froze. My pulse quickened. I hadn't touched it. Swallowing hard, I reached for the knob and twisted it