Chapter 92: A Memory Lost: Part 1

I lie still, watching her, frozen, breath raspy to match my elevated heart rate.

But my fears calm and fade as she slides down her hood with a slow, even slide and illuminates the room with the magical blue glow from both her hands.

It’s like a mesmerizing smoky orb around each that follows and traces with every movement, hypnotic in nature.

Despite looking exotic, Sierra Santo is a beautiful woman with almost milky skin.

Her dark hair frames a delicate bone structure, and her eyes, although electrifying blue right now, are almond-shaped under straight, thick dark brows, so perfectly symmetrical.

She has pouty lips and an ever-present youthful charm that completely warms her to you. A face that says, “You can trust me,” to match the surrounding atmosphere of serenity she always carries.

I sit up, gasping in wonderment at the light show and reaching out to touch what I can see as she moves in and sits on the side of my bed with grace.

She lets my hand wander into hers, seeking and investigating, before firmly surrounding my small hand in her fingers and encompassing me with the warmth.

I expected the blue air to be cold, but it’s almost like being submerged in a hot bubble bath, and I giggle at the tickle.

“Don’t be afraid, Alora… it’s magic. Special, gentle, and yet so very ethereal and kind. Would you like to do some magic with me while I tell you a story?” she asks.

Her eyes are still that dazzling brightest azure, and I look from her hands to her eyes in awe at the vibrancy of this mystical light she can produce.

My curiosity is killing the last of my fears, and I nod with the enthusiasm of a child who wants to discover more—naive courage because of my innocence.

Of course, I shouldn’t be afraid. This is Luna Santo, and I know her. She comes to the library to read us stories and plays with us sometimes.

Well, she did before all the grown-ups left to fight a battle, like my mommy and daddy have, my big brother Jasper and my grandparents, and most of the rest of the Whyte pack.

I’m staying with Mommy’s friend while they’re gone, Aisha Munro, one of our pack, who is big and round because she says she’s having puppies.

Sierra has a son around my age, but I don’t like boys, and I don’t like playing with Santos. They’re always so pushy and aggressive when we do, and I prefer my friends from the Whyte pack.

We’re softer; we play less rough games than fighting and hunting. They’re just stupid boys.

“How can a wolf do magic?” I ask, blinking trustingly and adjusting to see her in this dimness, leaning up against my headboard and shuffling my butt so I can sit properly.

With blue as our light source, everything it touches between us is shaded in cold hues, which add even more magic to the atmosphere, and I smile as I watch it envelop my hand and spread up my arm.

It feels strange but good, like soft, gentle air being blown across the surface of my skin, only warm.

“Well, that’s a story and one I would like to tell you. Remember how we used to read at the library when you all lay on the floor and closed your eyes so you could get lost in the pictures your mind created?

“If you like, we can do that now so you can listen and empty your mind from any distractions. I need you to focus on my words and not my light.” Her voice is so soothing, low, yet pretty.

It has a husky depth that is a little lower than most femmes, but it’s melodic. I’ve always liked Sierra’s voice; it has a calming quality, like a warm wave washing over you on a cool day.

“Yes! I love your stories,” I reply in unleashed excitement, hurrying to lie back down in my bed and eager to hear this one.

I bounce and shuffle while still holding her hand and wriggle myself down like a squirming caterpillar into my sheets once more, pushing my head back against my pillow, sinking in.

I don’t care why she’s come in through my window and not the door or why she came in the night.

I want to be a good girl and listen to her magical adventure story. The one in which a wolf learns magic. That’s crazy, and even I know wolves can do no such thing!

My mommy used to read me stories in bed, and maybe because she can’t be here right now, Sierra came to do it instead.

She’s a queen, so she can go home when she chooses, but Mommy is a warrior, and she has to stay away and protect us from the evil men who came to the mountain to hurt the wolves.

Mommy is strong, fast, and a good fighter for being a farmer wolf, so she said it was important that she go with them to chase the darkness away.

Sierra tucks me in neatly, pulling my blanket up to my chest, but snugly keeps my one hand in hers and tightens her grip on me.

She slides back a little and lays my wrist on her knee, which splays open my palm to disengage hers, so she can touch my hand without holding it properly.

With gentle strokes, she begins to circle in the center in a rhythmic motion.

The sensation sends shivers and goosebumps across my skin, but it brings back the sleepiness and has the same effect as rocking me back to sleep.

“I learned to do magic as a tiny child, about the same age you are now. It wasn’t easy, but when you discover a gift inside you that aches to be set free, nothing can hold it down forever.

“Open your mouth, Alora. I have a sweet-tasting berry that will help you sleep when I’m done telling my tale.” Her voice is calm, as though she’s telling me secrets.

I obediently open my mouth as she pops a small, round, semi-soft object in my mouth, and I automatically begin to chew.

The juice explodes with the first squish between my teeth like a delicious fruit bomb of sticky sweet nectar.

It leaves a beautiful taste of raspberries, strawberries, and other wild berries that seem to mingle in my mouth and coat my tongue as though I just drank a whole glass of squeezed berry juice.

“What was that? Can I have another?” I ask while opening one eye to look her way. It was so tasty I could eat a whole bowl of whatever that was.

She’s leaning over my hand, looking at me, and shakes her head with a soft smile on her pretty face.

“Hush now and listen. Close your eyes. One is more than enough, for you see, one little berry has the power to make tonight fade away farther than a forgotten dream, where no one will know where to look to find it.

“It’s a very special berry, only found in crevices of magical places, in whimsical woods, and with my help, it has a little added spice.”

Sierra picks up a strand of my hair and twirls it with her free hand, never breaking contact with the first, and I settle back down into my dark blankness and shut my eyes to focus only on her voice again.

The night air is still and quiet, and for once, I can’t even hear the owls in the trees or the leaves rustling in the wind outside my window.

There are no other noises around us, not even the ones of the house creaking or the Munros coughing in their sleep, which is a little odd.

But maybe I usually sleep through the night and don’t know the world sometimes falls silent.

“My story may not make sense, sweet child, but one day it will, and when you remember it, remember this night and this moment, and all will fall into place. You’ll know why I came.”

Sierra Santo gently brushes a hand across my forehead, the affectionate yet straightforward touch of a mother.

I nod, unwilling to interrupt her anymore, so eager for this story to begin even if I don’t grasp what she means.

I love tales about witches, magic, and brave heroes, and I hope this will be a good one. As she’s playing with my hair, I can already tell that we’ve started a great adventure.

I feel her sag against my thigh and sigh before her voice fills the air, still hushed yet clear and true.

“Once upon a time, a special girl called Danya lived near some breathtaking mountains in a land filled with immortals. She was only small, barely a girl.

“She was unusual, though, as, before her, no other of her kind had been born that had ever survived beyond the womb. They say the Fates blessed her very creation with a purpose in mind.

“That she was of two breeds united, who had lived on the land side-by-side for centuries; her mother, a light-walking wolf, fell in love with a dark creature who could never face the sun, a vampire.

“By their union, they created a child of two worlds who could walk in either sun or moon and harness the best of both.

“You see, these two breeds were once allies, co-existing together, one in the night and one in the light.

“They protected the lairs of each, so other immortals and human hunters would never hurt them at their weakest. But a terrible king pulled them apart in the worst of ways.

“He believed the breeds uniting, creating a new kind, would overpower all the immortals, outbreeding his wolves and this girl with her unique gifts, and could show them the way.

“She was not just any hybrid child. She had powers unlike any we had seen before, and she wanted only unity among her people. That was her fated purpose.”

I gasp a little, cover my mouth right away not to disturb her, and utter only a breathless “WOW” as I become immersed in this tale, my little heart picking up speed with the wonder of it.

Sierra smiles softly and continues. “The alpha king was enraged with the girl’s audacity, that she should one day rise and derail him, taking his wolf kingdom away.

“So, he did what he thought would save his rule, and he slaughtered the girl, Danya, when she was merely a child. Her mother, too, who tried to protect her, was slain in a pool of blood.

“The king was a liar.

“He blamed the dark creatures for the deaths of their own and ignited anger in the wolf packs to seek vengeance for the bloodshed of an innocent, while he denied the act himself.”

“He killed the little girl and her mommy?” I blurt out in outrage, unable to contain my angry shock, inhaling hard and opening an eye to blink at Sierra.

Sierra gently moves her hand over my face and closes my eyes once more with her delicate fingertips, pushing me back to quiet, and continues.

I try to keep my eyes closed this time, the excitement bubbling within my veins.

“Now, the nightwalker, he was not just any creature... he was what they call an original, much like the alpha of the wolves.

“An ancient. Beings that were the first of our kind and created many purebloods.

“Danya’s mother had lain with the king of vampires, probably why her child took hold and came to fruition, as ancients are the purest of our kind.

“His broken heart and need to avenge his love and child drove him to sheer madness, and he swore to avenge her death by slaying all wolves he deemed responsible for their demise.”