Elias glared in front of him at where he thought the wolves who chattered along were. All he had done was ask for the weekly maintenance reports on the regions they govern over. Instead of giving vital information, the morning meeting was filled with useless drivel. The Goddess was quieter this morning. Without her interceptions he was subjected to their complaining. He couldn’t remember a time where they’d spoken anything useful.

  To be above his people meant that he had to listen to them and their complaining. The only drawback being that their complaints wore him down, knowing what to speak to him and about what. They’ve learned how to manage me, have they?‘

  When his butler had pulled on his regal attire, he made comment that he hadn’t grumbled as he’d normally done. To him, it confirmed what he thought. His mind was clearer, for some reason. No headaches plagued him. His mood had improved.

  There was more connected to him than the pack bond. He could feel it. The shift in the air around them. It smelled cleaner than before. A new presence in the corner of his senses, its presence long missed and forgotten. A reprieve from some deep-seated ache. He might have thought the connection came from his heart but the blackened thing knew nothing but how to beat in his chest.

  “My king, another Grand Alpha was killed last night. On the borders of Varrym. She’s moving fast through the outskirts. Her pack spans forty-thousand wolves. Her hunting grounds are drawing closer to the capital, your Majesty.”

  His vision had gone today, his wings ruffled with his irritation, his wolf ears twitching as he caught on to the fleeting dialogue of his patronage. The worthless Grand Alphas. A pathetic title left to them by his father.

  He held no sympathy for his father. The vile wolf who was better in the grave than out of it. His father had left him to clean up the messes he’d made. But how could he when his mother had been taken from him? His guiding light. She’d left a hole that not even a goddess could fill. Wet drops trickled down his cheek, his hand caught the droplets. Was he crying?

  “And I have killed plenty of you gutter rats myself so what is the difference really?”

  “Well because you are king, the King of Alphas. You are allowed to do anything you want.” The wolf’s argument was one he couldn’t follow.

  “She poses a threat to the country. To the system. She threatens our way of life.”

  “A Beta killing Alphas.”

  “Betas are weaker than us, how does she even accomplish this?”

  His uncle interjected, “King, you must do something about her. She has an army now. They are rogues, answering to no one but themselves. This is not the way my father would have envisioned the fate of his kingdom?”

  “Do you suppose my grandfather wanted his kingdom to support oppression?” The last bit of his words fumbled, his tongue spiking his sharpening fangs.

  His uncle looked down and backed away. “As you have said, my King. Alas, Father wouldn’t have accepted this treatment upon his people. But what of the Grand Alphas? Are they not also your people? In need of protection.”

  Protection. The word triggered something inside his mind. Protection.

  The audacity. Who were they to talk about protection? Who was in more need of protection than his mother? The abuses she must have suffered at his father’s hands. The ignorance of a child is cruel. The cruelty of which only reveals itself with age. The dying of everything chased after him. The way things aged, rusted over time and wasn’t the same anymore. Time passed and you couldn’t get them back. Can’t get her back. No way to snatch her from his memory and bring her to a life without faint bruises and broken wings. No way to relive the happy, the same way it had been. Now all he saw was her pleading and crying in her room, yelling at entities who cared even less. The happy stays in memory, a time where some past version of him was naively smiling. Waking hours showing the familiar and the new. The changes, the things that no longer existed. His head swung toward the empty adjacent throne he had yet to fill. He remembered what should be, what was, what isn’t anymore and what could never be again. It all…just shattered his heart. But things changed.

  Is that a good thing? That she isn’t here. That she doesn’t exist. That I am powerless as I have always been. Faced with my enemies. With my foes who took her. Stole her.

  He looked at them. His mother in her flowing blue dress, twirling around and around. Her glossy tresses bouncing with each turn, she looked over and smiled at him. Her skin changes, turning darker. Freckles spot her caramel brown cheeks. Her waist-length hair growing in reverse, the brown wavy hair changing to black curls. Mate. This person, this memory will only be here for today. They might not return tomorrow. It used to make him panicky and sad. But now, he was just tired and hurt. WAS HE ALLOWED TO KEEP SOMETHING? SOMEONE?

  My prince, make way for her. My Omega, she is here. She will bring order.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Hearing his mother’s voice in his mind didn’t bring him joy or comfort, but rage. His vision had returned and so had his lunacy. The blinding light streaming in caused him to raise his hand to block his eyes.

  He stared blankly at his uncle who smoothed his mustache with his fingers.

  “My king?” His uncle asked, the other wolves staring at him with patient and exasperated gazes like they were used to him.

  What had they been speaking of?

  Ah, right. Those bastards. The ones his father sent to kill him.

  All he had wanted was his mother’s approval so he saved those wolves with the clipped ears and now he wanted him dead. But hadn’t his mother praised him for it?

  “Uncle, I want you to kill them.”

  His uncle tried to smother the gleeful smirk on his lips. He bowed, turning to exit.

  Thundering began after his uncle had left the room. His body shook in his throne seat, the convulsions overtaking him, his limbs vibrating uncontrollably.

  His mind flitted through memories of the past, mashing them together and construing their shape. His body flew, not by his wings, on its own. Gravity played its own game with him. Horrified gasps resounded and doubled in volume in his ears. He wanted to grip them but no matter how hard he sent the command his body wouldn’t obey.

  “Run! Go get someone. The king. The king is doing it again.” The words were spoken in sobs from someone in the hall.

  “A lightning bolt has arisen to the heavens,” the Goddess' words spilled from him, “from this accursed kingdom you speak of and corrupt. You all send wishes to destroy my wolves, my creation. Many of you, so bent on turning existence to chaos. A blessing to a curse. May your generations freeze to their death in the moonlight, fearing the night and her whispers. When I am freed, wrath I shall send to all Grand Alphas. Your end is nigh.” Her words came from him once more. If he knew anything about the goddess, she loved to repeat herself as if her listeners were incompetent.

  “A-abomination.” The wolf who said it clamped his lips shut. He began to shake. “Your Majesty, I meant nothing by my comment. Please forgive me.”

  He knew the insult referred to him. His hybrid blood was always one that led to ridicule. It had been some time since they had said those words to him. Any evidence of his mother’s faerie blood running through his veins, appalled them.

  He stared at the ceiling blankly, wondering when whatever spell overtook him would release him. Even nicer still if he could be dropped onto his throne. As the thought finished shooting by, a gust of wind swirled around him, scooping him up and rocking him like a baby back into his seat on the throne. When he was settled, he gave the skeevy eyed wolves a smile. The tall doors slowly crept open and a shuddering older man walked through accompanied by the attendant who had left from the room earlier, the bald head and greying sideburns of the newcomer striking at a memory. He might know this Beta. Was this not Philip? The realization caused a grin to spread over his lips, for some reason. Something about the man’s presence calmed him and cleared his mind. His black wings shuffled for a comfortable position as he prepared for the man to speak. Philip bowed, wiped his expression of any emotion, and spoke, “Your Majesty, may I be permitted to speak?”

  Murmurs from the Grand Alphas standing on the side were ignored. He shot a deadly stare in their directions and they promptly quieted. Their noisy dissension was likely due to him, giving a Beta permission to speak while interrupting a meeting they felt were important. “Go on,” he said, waving a hand.

  “As it appears the kingdom charges toward its doom, my Lady Sophia would like a word with your Highness.”

  Minutes later, rapping on the throne room’s doors called his attention. He waved for the attendants to open them. When the doors opened, Sophia walked inside, her arms stuffed to the brim with books, they almost tumbled out from her.

  “Halt!” he called from his throne. She stopped, lifting her head. He waved to the attendants again. The man walked forward and grabbed the items from her hand. She curtsied to him with her hand pulling her long bundle of skirts up as she did so. She kept her skirts slightly raised as she walked to meet him. He sighed at her antics. Nothing had changed about her since childhood.

  He waited, patiently for her to be some distance away where he sat before he waved his hand to her, turning his head so his left ear faced her.

  “My liege, you appear to be in a pleasant mood. I have brought you more information about Luciferin.”

  “Of course you have. Otherwise, you would not be here.” He raised an eyebrow at her before returning to his listening position.

  “I’ve nabbed drawings from the faerie kingdom in Djewell. If this excites your Majesty’s curiosity, I have brought the papers along with me. You will find them useful in finding what connects you with her. Or more specifically, your lineage.”

  “I have no interest in learning more about my faerie side. My mother has told me enough.”

  “I am not speaking of faeries. Wolves, our kind, have deep connections to this Goddess.”

  “Yes, of course, the Moon Goddess created us. Who has not heard the stories?”

  She sighed and just stared at him.

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “Your Majesty, have I ever brought you useless information? Have I not given Philip over to ease you when your memory lapses or temper spikes. I ask that you trust me when I say your tie to the Goddess is our tie as well. The Goddess expresses herself through bonds. Bonds with nature, with our brain waves. Anything intangible she can connect with.”

  “Okay, but how do I get rid of her?”

  “By giving her what she wants.”

  “What does she want?”

  "How should I know? You're the one with the connection. You tell me.”

  What had the Goddess always spoken of? His mind went to her speech. What was the heart of her message? What does she want? Freedom. How can I give her freedom if I don't know what binds her?