KAEDEN

I hate that I immediately notice how soft her skin is, how good it feels against mine. Especially as she is still lying, eyes dazed, breathing heavily, my hands placed gently on the back of her head and on her waist. I had just managed to catch her before her head hit the ground.

I'm not sure exactly why I was following her, watching her, noticing things about her that I should not be noticing. This afternoon, I swore to ensure that all contact with her would be minimal, until I could force my wolf to change its mind and find a more, less abominable mate... even though I was fully aware that it was virtually impossible for a wolf to do so. But the look that she gave me, the way I felt when our hands met, it drove me restless and unstable. Without realizing it enough to get a hold on myself, I found myself hunting for her, and have been essentially stalking her for the past hour. Like an idiot.

Damn. I know I already have a hard nut to crack convincing the pack that my decision to leave for 15 years was out of loyalty to them and for their best interests, not because I am a selfish, prodigal son, as I have heard through inside sources that my father has painted me to be. What on earth could I use to possibly justify bonding with my own sister, regardless that she is adopted?

Speaking of which... what happened to her? She was fine, basically stomped the way to her room, before jumping to her bed. Then she was up, headed to her cabinet and next thing I knew, I was flying towards her body as it crumpled to the ground. Did she touch something? Eat something?

I look around for a clue but all I can see is a little silver necklace beside her. Could that be? No. What could a little necklace do?

She had glanced up at me for a fraction of a second before her eyes closed but I can see that her eyes are beginning to flutter open again.

"Avara."

She immediately disengages from my body once she opens her eyes and clutches her head.

"Are you alright?"

She gives me a look and rolls her eyes.

I chuckle. "Yes, that was a stupidly obvious question. What happened to you?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. What were you doing in my room?"

And she is a bit brazen. I don't know why a smile is hinting at the corners of my lips at the thought of that.

"I wasn't inside your room. I was just around." I look her straight in the eyes, hoping that my attempt to establish dominance will prevent any further questions.

It doesn't.

"These are my quarters."

"And I have the right to go wherever the fuck I want to go."

A hard and last hit tactic. I know that will not rub in well on her. But I am stalking you because you are my mate and I cannot seem to keep away from you would have rubbed worse on her.

She stands. "Of course. The only the almighty Alpha-heir has the audacity to disappear from home for 15 years to return at just the right time to lay claim to the throne and immediately start acting like he owns the place and the right to invade in everyone's privacy. Well, brother, I don't give a shit who you are. I don't ever want to see you in my quarters again."

She hates me. Now that look makes sense. It was a look of pure resentment. And for what exactly? She barely even knows me.

Silas.

Of course he poisoned her mind against me. Of course.

"Listen, I do not know what my father has told you about me."

"He didn't need to tell me anything."

"Well then, I find it insulting that you have gone ahead to make assumptions about someone who you don't even know."

"Assumptions?" She hisses. "Is the fact that you ran away from home for 15 years an assumption?"

"No, what the assumption is, is whatever you have painted in your mind as the reason for my departure."

"There's no possible justifiable reason for disappearing for 15 years only to arrive just when you are at the right age to take the throne."

I find my irritation building. "Then you have a small mind. And I am not going to give my little ignorant sister the honour of explaining myself."

She glares at me for a second, and then opens a cabinet and takes out a bottle. Once she opens it, a smell that immediately ticks me off fills the room.

"What is that?"

I see her shoulders tighten. But just as I am certain she has chosen to ignore me, she speaks up.

"My medication. It's comprised of several vitamins. They keep me stable."

Those don't smell like vitamins.

"Who gave you the medication?"

"What are you still doing here, Kaeden? Thank you for breaking my fall, but please leave me alone."

"I'm just concerned for you."

She laughs as she fills the cap of the bottle and takes a swig. "No, you fucking aren't. Don't even try to convince me again that you are. I'm not the naïve little girl I used to be."

"I don't understand."

"Good night, Kaeden. Shut the door behind you."

AVARA

I wake up with my head pounding, my throat dry and my skin clammy. I lie still on the bed, not bothering to move, trying to gather myself, narrowing my eyes because the sunlight streaming into the room is stabbing at my eyes.

It had been one hell of a night.

I close my eyes tighter, press onto my memory and fragments of the dream and visions I had the other night claw at my mind.

Hide the spark.

What the hell is this spark?

Nyxarel.

That one came to me in a dream. Same frantic female voice. And right after that, I heard shadows of a voice that sounded like my adopted father's voice.

What the hell is a Nyxarel?

And then blood, so much blood, tracing lines across persons whose faces I cannot identify. Cold eyes. Golden eyes. Fire and death.

The thud in my head becomes worse and I instinctively force myself upright and reach for the bottle in my nightstand. I take a swig and the headache dies down, the voices silence, whatever has been stirring inside of me recedes and I begin to feel a bit normal.

"Just a dream. It's just a nightmare."

I've had crazy nightmares before. In fact, I used to have them a lot as a child and my screams through the night irritated Silas so much that he took me to a doctor who gave me that lifesaving liquid of gold. My medication. The one thing that keeps me normal, keeps me sane.

And I stopped having the nightmares until the events of last night.

But last night was different. Everything was so visceral, so clear, so real. As though a part of my memory was pulled open and contents poured out in disarray.

A loud knock resounds at my door.

"Come in." I sigh, already knowing who it is. Only one person knocks on my door like he owns the place.

Julian steps in. He looks at me with a smile which immediately changes to a frown.

"Just waking up from sleep, dove? It's almost 10 am."

"It is?" I check my clock and indeed, it is 10am. That means that I have been asleep for almost 12 hours. "I had a rough, crazy night."

As I say it, I immediately regret those words, because I know exactly what is coming next.

"Nightmares?"

"I mean, it depends what..."

"Avara, you have to be taking your medication. You know this. You know what happens if you fail to do so."

"I do take them religiously," I hiss, already irritated. "I'm not stupid, I'm not a fucking child."

Julian crosses his hands. "Well, love, I'm not saying that you are lying, but you only have nightmares when you do not take them, so care to explain why you had a rough night last night?"

I almost begin talking about the necklace and what happened when I touched it, but I decide against it. Julian acts like he is my father's right hand man. If I tell Julian, then Silas knows, and if Silas knows, my necklace, the only connection I have to whatever life I used to live before my people died and I was adopted, will be taken from me.

"Yes?"

"Stop breathing over my neck, Julian. I find you incredibly irritating when you do so."

Julian walks towards me. "I know I can be overbearing, but I only am like that because I care for you, baby. I know how it used to be for you. I don't want you to go back to the night terrors and the screams, the sleepwalking, the paleness. That's why I get on your neck so much about it. Don't be mad at me." He lifts up my hand and plants a long, drawn out kiss.

"You know I love you, so, so much, Avara."

Before I can react, his mouth is warm against mine, in the familiar way that should be comforting. He settles into the regular rhythm, and I move my lips accordingly, placing my hands lightly on his shoulders, following the motions out of habit, a performance, really.

I tell myself that this is what love feels like.

Comfortable, reassuring love. My father told me that love doesn't always have to be invigorating, there is no need for a racing pulse, butterflies in the belly, all that nonsense.

Love is stability. And that is what Julian is.

Still, I don't understand why something in my chest tightens every time I tell myself that he is my happily ever after.

Julian pulls away reluctantly and looks a bit dazed. He laughs like a little boy as he always does whenever we get intimate.

"Wow, you really are something, Avara."

His hand moves suggestively towards my tights and I gently pry his hands away. He has tried so many times to take us further than a kiss. I have always resisted, not because I am particularly moral or give two shits about purity before marriage, hell no one in the park gives two shits about that.

I guess I'm just waiting for... I don't know, for me to feel something. For me to want to do so with Julian. For me to imagine having sex with him and feel something other than coldness.

He sighs and looks ready to get into an argument we have had so many times but decides against it.

He stands up and arranges his hair. "Anyways, I came to tell you that your presence will be required at the Silvermoon hall this evening. Your father is hosting a welcome party of sorts for your long lost brother." He basically snarls the last few words before storming off.

By evening, the Silvermoon mansion has been completely transformed and the scent of roasting meat and expensive scotch fills the air. I walk down, wearing a green silk gown that reaches my ankles, my hair tied up and my head lowered, just as Silas prefers. I catch a glimpse of Kaeden in a corner, deep in conversation with someone who I immediately recognize to be Elias Kore, the lorekeeper of the pack.

Of course he would be in touch with the man. The lorekeeper controls and holds knowledge of the laws and judgments, precedents and interpretation and history of the werewolf pack. That would be the perfect person to have on your side if you desire a smooth ride into power.

Immediately I step into the hall, Julian appears by my side and slides his hand onto my waist.

"Can you imagine? All this for an idiot prodigal son, coming to claim a throne that he has never worked for, that he has never bled for."

"Silas is just keeping appearances. He didn't seem all thrilled and excited when Kaeden returned."

Kaeden walks in and immediately his dark eyes meet mine. He looks at me for a brief moment, then glares at Julian and walks towards the head table.

I don't know why it feels like the air gets thicker whenever he looks at me.

I take his presence as my cue to move too, and soon, Julian and I are settled at the head table, sipping wine and feasting on venison.

Silas rises from his seat, a smile on his lips. He lifts his cup and the pack goes silent.

"My pack," he says warmly, too warmly. "Tonight, we celebrate blood returning to blood."

He looks at Kaeden who is seated, silent, lips tight, face unreadable.

"My son has finally found his way home. After 15 long years. Long enough for seasons and loyalties to change, for responsibilities to be carried by those who chose to stay and grow with the pack."

A strange tension fills the air. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and straighten my gown.

Silas doesn't stop. Instead, he raises his cup a little higher. "It takes courage to return after years of running from responsibility and deem oneself ready and fit to take the ultimate responsibility for the pack. Especially when one has conveniently spared himself from years of discipline, from the harder years of growth, from the necessary sacrifices needed to become a leader."

Father still has that smile on his lips, and I shiver, immediately coming to terms with the knowledge that Silas does not want to give Kaeden the throne, however certain his birthright may be, and is trying to ensure that the entire pack agrees with his decision.

Now however much I agree with the fact that Kaeden does not deserve the throne and leadership, a deep-seated fear is slowly arising. The order of succession wasn't just arbitrarily chosen by the pack. It was ordained by the moon goddess.

What happens when a pack chooses to go against it?

"But we are generous people," Silas continues brightly. "We forgive easily. We welcome openly. And that is our strength."

A soft reluctant cheer goes through the crowd.

"As we know, some people are born to lead. Others, to wander, to discover who they... truly are, far from duty, far from consequences."

How that smile has not yet falters even as he spills bile from his mouth, I do not know. And I don't know whether to be scared or to be intimidated.

"But tonight, we do not dwell on the past." He lifts his cup fully. "To family. To home. To my long-lost son, finally back to his senses, at just the... perfect time. Cheers!"

Kaeden doesn't raise his glass.

Before the party properly dies out, Kaeden is out of the hall, and nobody bothers to look for him.

I take my last glass of wine, ready to crash to bed. As I place the cup and move to walk out, I feel a large hand grab mine. I turn to face my father.

"My study, Avara. Now."

SILAS

"Julius informed me that you collapsed last night."

I bear it in mind to carefully study my little harvest as I speak, catching every hint of her body language to ensure that I am consistently in control in this delicate conversation that we are about to have.

She forces a fake bout of laugher. I have known for quite some time that she has resented the fact that Julius has acted like a hawk over her life, constantly questioning her and returning to me. I also know that she has chosen to be quiet about the situation because I have carefully trained her to believe that she owes a debt to the park, to me. I don't even think she has gotten to develop love for the young man for the past two years that they have been together. But I know that she will not leave him until her dying days because she believes it to be her duty.

Well, luckily for her, her dying days are fast approaching.

"He told me that he thinks you have not been consistent with your medication."

"I have, father. What happened last night..."

"Was as a result of some other reason other than your failure to follow instructions? Your insistence of placing me with the burden of having to deal with episodes of the likes you used to have as a child?"

"No, father. Gosh, no. I hate what used to happen to me as a child and I am most abundantly grateful for the medication. I take it religiously every night."

"So what happened?"

She hesitates. "I.. I touched my necklace. The one I came here with. And then, I blanked out."

The necklace? No, it is powerless, I made sure of that before letting her come with it here as a performance of empathy. She touched it and fainted?

"What a ridiculous story."

"Believe me, father. It's real."

It will need to be investigated into, then.

"And where is this necklace?"

"I didn't pick it up for fear but I am certain that it has been placed on the shelves by the maids, and since there was no call for alarm, without the same episode as I had."

Hmmm. My mind is racing. Could that, could that possibly be a tool? Something that could help? Or a hindrance, perhaps?

"Well, I will have the necklace examined to find out the truth of your words. But for now, I have a theory of my own. My theory is that you are growing older, growing different."

"Different?"

I edge closer. "Yes, different. More sensitive. More affected by the park, our powers."

She frowns. "And that is bad?"

"I believe so. Or well, it can be. If left unmanaged. I believe that to truly cure you of these maladies, permanently, we may need to take more stringent measures."

I realize at this point that I need to put on the performance of sympathy and care. So, I let my expression constrict to something warm and fatherly and place a hand over hers.

"More stringent measures, father?"

"Yes. Something to give you a permanent cure. No one should be hooked on medication for the rest of her life and certainly not my daughter. So, I have been in consultation with a lot of... doctors, spell makers, the likes, searching for a cure for you. And I am glad to announce to you that I think I may have found one."

There's disbelief across her face, a result of the years of dependency on medication.

"You've always trusted me, haven't you?"

The brief moment of hesitation before her nod angers me terribly, but I withhold myself from harming her for her brief display of ingratitude and disloyalty. She is needed, after all.

"Scyla. Come in."

I have done a wonderful job of dressing the Lamashtu demon as a respectable person with the knowledge of medication and a bit of the mythical scientific arts. She looks almost believable.

"This is Dr. Scyla. She will be in charge of taking you through the process of purification and empowerment."

"What, father? I thought that I will simply be receiving some more medication, stronger ones."

I laugh. The silly fool.

"Medication? Of course not. What has availed you is stronger than what simple medication can handle, my dear daughter. Medication can only subdue the symptoms, never cure the cause. For your treatment, you will be empowered with enough magick to enable your body to completely expel the negative effects of your powerlessness in the midst of the supernatural."

"I will be made a magical creature?" She perks up.

"I mean, you may gain some powers on the path to your cure, I guess. But the ultimate aim is your freedom from the torments and the faintings and the nightmares and all that you have had to suffer due to your deficiency as a human."

"Okay, father." The excitement underlying her tone makes me want to burst into further laugher. "What do I have to do?"

"You would need to go through a series of... let's call them rituals."