Demon wolf mate

I was born under the heat of the full moon, at the moment the stars aligned and the grounds of the underworld shock. I was the witch that was foretold. The one destined to usher in a new era for all those that reside in the fiery abyss. My birth was a holy one. I was supposed to be a holy one. Was.

Outside, the winds rattled the chimes; a warning of sorts. Waves crashed into the shore from the distance, the restless waters growing louder as if the ocean was a witch summoning vengeance. This has been the way the waters rocked and tossed since I was born. I was told that the moment my sister and I made our first cry into the world, it was as if our voices mixed into a chant; a wicked awakening of the evil depths and the waters were witnesses to our atrocious cries.

Thunder poured from the skies, its sound shook the grounds beneath my feet as lightning cracked the night’s back with unforgiving electric whips. It was as if the devil demanded retribution; a sacrifice. It was as if he demanded the blood of innocents to claim power stolen or power lost – I was uncertain. But one thing I was certain of was that, as holy as my birth was, my life was a sin, but then again, I was a witch that lived in the depths of the underworld; in the blackness of darkness. And yet somehow, I was meant to change things. I have read that humans are gullible, but the folks of the underworld were a different breed of stupid.

My Nana watched me as my mother chanted protection spells on my sister and me. A spell my Nana had taught my mother and now, a spell my mother taught her children; a spell that I had no faith in.

“By the moon, and by stone and by iron,” my mother whispered. Her eyes shut finely as hands clenched our pendants. “Protect my children. Spare them from the lurking shadows. From the fire of the underworld but most of all, protect from the eye of the devil.”

A whisper of light hissed from the pendants as a warm blue glow steamed from my mother’s hand and into the enchanted jewellery. It was beautiful to witness, but I remember that our neighbours had done the same thing to their daughter, and she left home sane and came back maddened. Whatever evils lie beyond the horizon, I doubt a spell would keep them at bay.

“I don’t think it would be such a terrible thing to catch the devil’s eye,” Cordelia said. “I mean, imagine me being the queen of the underworld.” She twirled and held her head high with her back straight and her chin up. She took steps that mirrored someone of regal origins and a giggle slipped past my lips.

My mother turned purple. It was as if her daughter had said something that had sealed her fate for him.

“You must never say such a thing, Cordelia,” Nana warned. “And Esmé does not encourage her by laughing.”

I pressed my lips together.

“A devil’s kiss leaves you wanting for more,” my mother said.

“Isn’t that what a kiss is supposed to do?” Cordelia was pushing it and I bit the inside of her cheeks to not encourage her by laughing. “I mean, if I was to be kissed by someone, I want to be flustered, to be thoroughly wet. I want the redness of my thin lips to be kissed pink and swollen.”

The encouraging laughter that had been brimming at my lips busted through.

“Cordelia!” my mother shrieked with tomato-red cheeks. The woman was horrified and I was brutally amused. She looked like she was wondering where she had gone off, and I think that was the moment she took us to the library and let us pick the books we wanted.

Nana shot from her seat. Her aged bones were surprisingly agile as she grabbed her ears and twisted them. “Child, the devil is not a being you shake your bottoms for. You cannot seduce the king of seducers. He will lure you in; kiss you so passionately that you would give anything to feel such passion. You will be willing to d*mn your very soul.”

We have heard that before. We have heard of girls signing contracts with devil’s ghouls; there was something strangely true about it, even though there was any tangible evidence to claim, the slivers of truth slithered and coated me with fear.

The amusement that bubbled between me and my sister withered as quickly as it sprouted. Perhaps Cordelia was also starting to feel pangs of fear. Maybe we should fear. In the end, we were headed to the graveyard.

I grabbed my shawl, pulling it close to my bodice as we left the house. The familiar scent of sulphur slithered through the cracks of the cobblestone road. Cordelia was silent. Usually, she would tease, but it seemed like she was shaken by what Nana said and that was unnerving. Cordelia was never shaken. She had always been strong, determined and stubborn. She often pushed the boundaries of spells and incantations. Often tethered to the brink of dark magic.

“If we are destined to be the change that the underworld needs,” she started. “How else are we supposed to accomplish it if you or I do not become the queen of the underworld?”

She made sense. The prophecy was clear. It gave the destination, but it did not give the route. Like everything else in witchcraft, it left more questions than answers. But I have never believed in the prophecy. Nothing about me or my family whispered a modicum of greatness. There was no way that the goddess blessed us with such great a destiny.

“The prophecy is a thing I pay little mind to,” I said.

The cobblestone road faded into the green of the forest. I often wonder how plants survive here. The air of the underworld was not as pleasant as the one above. I have never crossed into it, but I have read books. I know the weather is kinder up there and the air does not threaten to melt your lungs with searing heat.

“How could you not, Esmé?” Cordelia asked. “We are the first twins to be burned in over sixty years, as the prophecy foretold. The waters have been begging for vengeance since that night and the events and recent happenings have only further exposed the truth of what is to come. The prophecy is real.”

I paused. Cordelia had valid points, but the underworld was a cruel place and wildly unpredictable. Someone could be messing with the sea or perhaps the ocean dwellers are at war again. But everything else, everything else had plot holes and question marks. It was quite difficult to completely disregard the potency of what was said would happen.

“The prophecy speaks of one,” I said. “Twain girls! One is white, and the other is stained with blackness. You know what that means, don’t you?”

A knowing silence screamed the answers that refused to leave her lips. Only one could be queen and while the other would not only be anything but a subject, the blackness of this place would take control of her heart. It would cease and she would surrender to it.

That was why I refused to believe the prophecy. There was no way I would be queen and that meant that I would be the one stained by evil. I could not accept that. I could not let myself fall into the evils of this wicked place, I absolutely could not.

I wondered if Cordelia had considered that part. If she had thought about what the fulfilment of the prophecy would entail.

We paused at the mouth of the graveyard. A sea of headstones spanned for miles, reaching the brink of the horizon. The sky turned pitch black as if someone had shot the sun out of the sky.

There was an unusual calmness that fell upon the sea of the dead as we walked in. I felt my hair prick with attention as if someone was prying from the blackness of the strange night, watching.

I clutched my pendant. I did not know why I reached for the object I had no faith in, but I did. Cordelia seemed unfazed about all of it. But I could feel the quietness closing in with every step. I could feel it watching.

“Do you feel that?” I asked.

“Feel what?”

“Someone or something was watching, waiting.”

“Let’s just get to father’s grave and take the sand we need,” she dismissed.

I tried to fight the feeling, but the more I struggled to ignore it, the more it echoed, blocking everything else and making itself the most dominant thought in my mind.

A breeze blew gently. It caressed my skin. Touching me. It was cold. Cold like death, but it should not be strange considering where I was, but it was also alive, pulsing. It was dead, but its coldness was more alive than everything I had ever felt. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

My magic hummed in my chest. Pulsing to alertness and I latched to it. I was readying myself for a fight I did not know what for. I felt my senses extend out of me and spread all around me. I did not know what was happening, but it seemed like Cordelia was experiencing the same thing. I could sense it. It was almost as if I could sense her emotions.

It was bland, like an unseasoned chicken, but at the same time, there was an iciness that came from the distance. I could make sense of what it was, but it was so cold that it burned the back of my throat. It was colder than death, more… wicked.

Suddenly I could see, even in the wicked blanket of an enchanted blackness, my eyes opened, and I saw him. I saw it. It looked like a man but also not a man.

“Can you see that?” I asked. I felt my voice falter as I spoke. I was afraid, but the pangs of fear were not the kind that paralyses the body; it was different. It gave me strength.

“That,” I pointed out as I turned to her. She was purple. No, she was not purple. A purple essence slithered from her. But there was also a shadow ghost that licked the purple essence. It pulsated. I could feel it.

I did not know what was happening. I turned to mam-monster, his eyes a brilliant mix of silver and gold. I could see it – all of it. I could see it. The mud that stained its fingers, the bones that were the captives of its fist.

No book. No grimoire had explained what this creature was, but it smelled of ancient times. It was unnerving, especially because its eyes were trained on me. It looked like it was going to devour my flesh and drink my soul, but only ghouls drink souls and this was a ghoul. It was not as ugly. It was not ugly at all, but it was terrifying.

“Clutch your necklace,” I heard my sister speak, but I was already trapped by the gaze of the creature. I did not notice when it moved, but one moment it was a yard away and the next it was merely breathing from clawing out my throat.

“Quickly, clutch your necklace and chant with me,” my hands moved to my protective charm. I did not know what was wrong with me, but I felt drawn to whatever was before me.

I heard my sister chant wildly, but my lips could barely move. There was something about it. I could not put my finger on it, but I felt drawn to whatever this beast was. It was a powerful but gentle pull. It urged me to reach for it.

“Esmé!” I could hear my sister screaming for me, but I could not react. My muscles relaxed; the initial urge to fight was replaced by a weakness. A weakness that infected my mind and spread to my knees. Perhaps it was because of his eyes. His. Him.

I reached forward. I wanted to cup his cheek. I wanted to know why his coldness seemed to burn me, but it also seemed like it was waking me and just before I could make contact with him, a purple essence struck him.

I felt his hurt, it felt like my hurt. One moment he was there, and I was reaching toward him and the next, he wasn’t. Vanished and in his place, a golden smoke lingered.

The blackness that seemed to have killed the sun faded and released the sky from its captivity because it had sights on another victim. Me? And I did not fight it, I yielded willingly, accepting whatever waited for me as I fell into it.

I quickly broke the fibres of the meat for the stock. We were preparing dinner and I realized I had forgotten my basket at the market. Since it was a holy day – my birthday – crowds were en masse, and I had to wait till nightfall to retrieve it.

Maybe it was a blessing. Since the riders were in town. I looked over at my sister, who had been unusually quiet this morning. I, too, was quiet, but hers was worrying. Not even an inappropriate joke left her lips. Something was troubling her. Something was troubling me too.

None of us spoke about what happened the other night. I could not even remember all of it. Cordelia said I was reaching for a shadow, that something was taking shape before me, and I was heeding its calling. But that was not what I saw. I saw a man –a beast – I don’t know how to classify it or him. but he was magnificent. I remember the gold and silver hues of his eyes. When he looked at me, I felt like he could see past my appearance and see my soul. I did