Childhood

ALASTAIR

Sleep was elusive that night. Their bodies yearned for each other, and thoughts they had each buried deep within themselves surfaced.

Alastair was just a boy when he felt the air change.

Darkness began to creep over the kingdom. An omen. War was on the horizon. As a child, he couldn’t understand what this meant, especially for him and his fae friend Cathan.

The day of his father’s coronation was a stormy one. The clouds were heavy and thick, thunder shook the ground, and lightning struck the outskirts of the kingdom, inching closer to the capital.

The boys were dressed in their finest clothes for the occasion, adorned with silk and gold. Alastair was a prince, and Cathan was the son of a fae ambassador.

“Alastair, today is not a day for games,” his mother warned, gripping his hand tightly.

He noticed the bruises peeking out from under her gown’s sleeves, but he didn’t dare comment. His father was a stern man. Alastair had felt the sting of his punishments more than once.

Alastair made a promise to himself that when he became king, everyone would obey him, everyone would bow to him. He would answer to no one.

They entered the grand throne room, an aisle lined with wolves on either side leading to the high priest standing next to the throne with the crown.

The priest crowning the king was just a formality.

“He shouldn’t be holding your hand like that,” the Beta remarked, sneering at Alastair’s mother. “He’s the king’s son, not some weak little pup.”

Suddenly, his mother let go of his hand—let go of the comfort of her touch. The crowd was a mix of fae and wolves, celebrating the crowning of the new king.

The previous king, Alastair’s grandfather, had been killed during a trip to the home of dark fae magic: the enchanted forest.

A group of rogue fae had risen, wielding dark magic, and murdered the king. They had consumed him with it, as it was a magic so potent, wolves were devoured alive.

That’s why hybrids couldn’t exist. Wolves and fae could never have children together.

Dark magic was shunned in the kingdom. It was too unpredictable, too powerful, too dangerous. If the fae practiced it, they would pose a threat to the throne.

Alastair noticed Cathan fiddling with his buttons as he stood next to his father. He saw the imposing wolves in the front row, a space reserved for him.

The Beta led the way while his mother waited for his father.

Hand in hand, they walked down the aisle, their steps regal. All was silent, everyone watching their new king and queen. They both took their seats on their thrones, the queen’s a fraction of the size of the king’s.

The high priest spoke words that were supposed to carry weight, but everyone was waiting in anticipation. Soon enough, the crowns were placed on their heads and the people cheered.

The ceremony was brief. The king wasted no time in addressing his people who had gathered within the castle walls to see their new king.

He stood on the balcony, his wife and son behind him, his face expressionless. No one could read him. No one but his mate, his queen.

She knew what he was planning, but she couldn’t act against him, even though some of her closest allies were fae.

“As king, I have sworn to protect the kingdom, no matter the cost,” declared the new king, Bronimir.

“My predecessor was killed by fae. That’s just the beginning. More fae will rise against the crown, against wolves. It’s my duty to stop that.”

The royal army marched out aggressively, surrounding the crowds. The rest of the army had been ordered to raid every village, every part of the kingdom... and kill the fae, the enemy.

Just like that, with a flick of the king’s wrist, blood was spilled.

Alastair’s mouth hung open at the sight. No sound escaped him. He was frozen in place. He watched people he knew, people who had worked at the castle, stabbed in the heart.

The air was filled with gasps, screams, growls. Faint incantations could be heard, though all in vain.

It took two years for the border to go up. Many were injured, stumbling over the crossing. Many were trapped, separated from their families and killed with nowhere to run.

Twelve years later, the fae were all but extinct in the kingdom.

All the while, the young prince had been put through trials and tests that even the fires of hell couldn’t compare to. Something grew in him that his father was proud of.

His father had molded him into the greatest warrior, the most powerful future king, an immortal wolf, with the help of all that was forbidden.

Fae were nowhere to be seen. Except for a rogue clan. Dark magic. And they took the lives of another king, and the queen.

And the young prince who would be king took their lives, ridding the kingdom of the last fae species. But it turned out that a member of that rogue clan had been Cathan’s father.

Alastair sat in his chair in his war room, pushing the miserable thoughts away. The happy memories of his childhood had all been tainted.

He knew Cathan had survived. He knew he wanted revenge. He knew that his former friend practiced dark magic, all to spite him.

The fae had killed his mother. She was a good soul. She was the one who gave him the slightest heartbeat. When she died, his heart died with her. And he felt nothing.

He was repulsed by the entire species, and they would all pay. Every last one of them.

If they ever decided to drop the border, perhaps to attack, they would lose. The wrath of the king was unmatched.

In their chambers, Aurelia tossed and turned in her sleep, longing for the mate she loathed. The irony that her cursed power didn’t work on the king was gnawing at her, mocking her relentlessly.

She was defenseless, even though the compulsion could reach greater heights than even she could comprehend. The incident came to her mind, but she pushed it back with all her might, with all she had left in her.

~She was only fourteen. She couldn’t shift in the accepted way, so she didn’t fit in with the other pups.~

~The school had taught them basic math and arithmetic, along with wolf history and chores, from the age of eight.~

~Aurelia’s sister had always encouraged her to go out and socialize, hoping she’d make friends. But all it did was make her feel more alone.~

~People rarely spoke to her. When they did, it was usually to make fun of her. She was the small, weak girl who couldn’t shift.~

~But she had a secret. She knew she was stronger than they could ever imagine.~

~She had spent time honing her gift, using it to get out of chores and punishments. They were silly tasks she could have easily done, but she chose to use her power instead.~

~At first, it required physical contact—eye and skin. And she had to concentrate really hard.~

~But by the time she was fourteen, she had used it so much that she barely had to glance at the person she wanted to control.~

~Her gift was her lifeline. She could easily leave the village with it. She could survive in the world with it as her safety net.~

~But she didn’t realize that it was starting to take over her. She didn’t know that her gift was rooted in a powerful dark magic, stronger than anyone else’s.~

~And if she kept going down this path, she wouldn’t be herself anymore.~

~It was a chilly morning with overcast skies. They hinted at something happening, but Aurelia never believed in omens.~

~That was something the old women would talk about; they were just old wives’ tales. Or so she thought.~

~It was unusually dark for a morning. The sun was nowhere to be seen, and it wouldn’t be for a while.~

~She was stopped as she entered the classroom where hundreds of kids sat. A group of gossiping she-wolves was also heading into school.~

~They saw her. And they started laughing as if she wasn’t there.~

~They insulted her in every way possible, like they had no manners, and a crowd gathered to watch. It was all very public and others joined in.~

~The teacher walked in but didn’t try to stop them. She had never felt so alone.~

~Something inside of her was clawing at her skin, and it wasn’t her wolf. It wanted to put them in their place, all of them. It wanted to make them bow.~

~To~ make~them bow. As if she were the queen.~

~And that’s exactly what she did. She made them bow. As if she were the damn queen. All of them. Even the teachers.~

~Then she started controlling their every move with just her mind.~

~But it wasn’t really her anymore. The ease with which she used the power should have told her she wasn’t in control. She hadn’t mastered it to that extent.~

~But it felt amazing. For once in her miserable life. She wanted to feel like a queen. She craved the power it gave her. Or the power did. The power thrived on it.~

~She wanted more. And more. And more. She wanted it all. And she had the chance to take it.~

~She punished them. Tortured them. Made them torture each other. All for her own amusement. And she watched from a makeshift throne she compelled them to build.~

~Some tore each other apart, and she enjoyed it. Her mind was foggy, like a poison had settled in.~

~The sound of her sister’s voice brought her back to reality. She started to regain some of her senses, enough to recognize Olympia.~

Her face was filled with horror. Her lower lip was trembling with fear and her eyes were watering at the sight before her.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Whatever I want,” Aurelia replied quickly, standing up. “They all wronged me, and now they’re at my mercy. I could easily do the same to you.”

“You’re killing them,” she murmured.

Aurelia’s eyes darted around the room, noticing the few lifeless bodies scattered across the floor. And a girl on the edge.

Her name was Aella. She had never mattered to Aurelia. But something about her struck a chord. Reaching out to grab her ankle, the girl pleaded. Begged. Fought the compulsion.

Aurelia stared. Her mind was recoiling and emotions started to flood back into her heart. She had unintentionally killed people. The power had corrupted her, controlled her.

She had let that happen. Now this girl was at her feet, praying for her life.

Aurelia did what any guilt-ridden, sorrowful fourteen-year-old girl would do. She ran. She ran away from the scene.

Days later, only her sister and those who had been in that class knew what had happened, though they were too scared of her to talk about it. And they didn’t understand it, either.

The bodies were never explained, and the sight of the grieving parents almost broke Aurelia.

Their faces. Those bodies. Olympia’s eyes. She promised herself she wouldn’t use her power again unless she had to. At first, it was hard to resist. Over time, it got easier.

Until she started to forget she even had it.

But the day the king’s wolves came, she was forced to use it again. And that could only mean trouble.

Maybe she couldn’t be saved from the edge this time.