Chapter 185 Fist of their kind 2

Chapter 185 First of their kind 1

Ira's POV

Like my other dreams, I find myself in a room all of a sudden, with no knowledge of how I got in.

There's a long large table in the center. A man I recognize as my grandfather… Vahl's late alpha is looking at the man on his knees in front of him.

My mother leans against her seat with a sigh.

I'm standing just behind Andre, though I know I am not really here and I'm only being shown what happened in the past.

Still, I feel it, every breath I take, the wind that blows through the windows, the tension in the room.

“Please, Alpha,” Andre says on his knees. “She's my mate.” His voice cracks “Don't let them kill her.”

The Alpha looks at him with tired eyes, silently proving this isn't the first time Andre has come to plead.

“Your mate knew her actions would lead to consequences.” he says strongly.

Andre shakes his head quickly. “She didn’t….”

“She knew.” the alpha interrupts.

He steps closer just slightly, enough that Andre has to look up at him fully.

“Whatever happens now,” the Alpha continues, “is the result of her senseless actions. I can't help her since she crossed into the Sempyr clan to steal a sacred item. This is law and you know it.”

Andre’s hands curl into the ground. His shoulders drop like something inside him has just broken.


Just then the scene changes and I'm in the center of a large hall that's built like a circle.

“You have one last chance to say the truth or your life force will be drawn.” An angry sempyr says loudly, her shout directed at the shivering lady on her knees at the opposite side of the hall.

I notice how the kneeling woman keeps her mouth shut.
Someone moves in the spectating crowd and although he wraps a scarf around his head, I still spot Andre.

Behind him, the seated Sempyrs cheer for justice.

Andre watches with heartbroken eyes, quietly sitting with the crowd.

That's when I piece it together.

I glance back at the woman being judged and her eyes shine with hope as she keeps her gaze on Andre, completely ignoring the Sempyr urging her to say the truth.

This must be Andre's mate.

One of the sempyrs pass through me as about ten of them close in on Andre's mate. The weak woman's chest rises and falls in panic when she can no longer see Andre.

In unison all sempyrs whisper a soft chant then lift their arms, and pull.

Andre’s mate makes no attempt to run. She doesn’t seem to understand yet.

Until she screams.

Her eyes widen in fear and she claws at her neck, struggling to breathe.

Tears run down her face as she grows pale, life so quickly drawn out of her.

Her body stiffens a second before she collapses.

Andre turns his head, his jaw clenched.

For a moment, I actually think he will go to her. But he doesn’t. He simply walks out of the court.


The world shifts.

And suddenly I'm in a familiar scene.

My father is on the floor, his hands wrapped tightly around my mother.

Her body lays limp against his chest, her head resting in the hollow of his arm like she simply fell asleep. But I know better.

The blood still soaking her dress proves what I already know, she's never going to wake up.

Father's arms shake as a sob breaks through him.

“I’m sorry,” he cries into her hair. “I’m sorry. I did this. I did this to you.”

He presses his forehead against hers, his white hair falling over his face unmoving, as though mourning with him.

A loud crashing sound blasts outside and father lifts his head instantly.

“It’s a warlock,” someone shouts outside. “Kill it!”

Father lays his mate down gently. Very gently. Like he is afraid she will feel the roughness if he does it with less care.

It takes him no more than two seconds before he's running outside, a dark fury in his gaze.

Uncontrollably I drift after him.

His sword sinks into his enemies with fierce anger, his hair once again floating around him, allowing him hit his opponents with invisible weapons.

“Kill it!” Someone yells in the distance and father rushes there, turning the corner just as a familiar black bird slams into the wall.

Its feathers explode against stone. And just before the bird drops it turns into a little boy I recognize.

“Stay behind me Buk!” Father orders firmly, fighting off the men who'd been pursuing Bukasvad.

The boy struggles to his knees, shaking violently, blood smeared at his temple.

“Bukasvad,” he calls sharply, sparing a glance behind him. “stick close. Come on, get up son.”

Father groans when a long sharp knife cuts across his stomach.

But before he can fight off the attacker, a strong bolt of lightning hits the man that struck him.

That's when Bukasvad's father comes into view, shooting more lighting balls into the attackers.

“Get out of here!” The man yells at my father.

“You're bleeding!” Father yells back, taking in the multiple cuts on his body.

“I can't… it's too late.”

“No it's not!” Father says sharply. “I may not be a healer but I can find someone who…” he's words cut short as he turns to fight off someone else.

“I promised to keep you safe. Allow me fulfill that promise. Protect my son and your daughter.” Bukasvad's father shouts over the noise, his voice tight with emotion.

Father reluctantly grabs Bukasvad's hand and runs but the little boy's father grunts almost immediately as a sword drives straight through him.

My father freezes, turning around.

“Pa!” Bukasvad screams.

But father stops him from running to his father who's still fighting with his last breath.

Instead he runs, taking corners and keeping Bukasvad close to him.

“Where is Valira?” he asks.

Bukasvad can barely breathe through his crying. “Under the stairs.” he manages.

They make their way there, stepping over the unmoving bodies lining the corridor.

Father drops to his knees at the staircase. Then opens the hidden door.

My knees are pressed to my chest as I rock back and forth.
I watch how my eyes widen when I spot him.

“Val,” he says.

“Dad?” I sob, reaching for him.

And when he pulls me out, I hug him tightly. My little fingers squeeze into his shirt like I am afraid he will vanish.

“Dad, I’m scared,” I whisper. “I don’t feel good.”

“You’ll be alright, darling,” he says immediately.

He presses a kiss into my hair, and I pause, feeling something wet against my scalp.

“Dad, are you crying?”

He doesn't respond, simply holding me close like it's the last time.

It was the last time. I think to myself.

“I need you to run away with Boo, okay, pup?” he finally says.

I pull back just enough to see his face. His hand cups my cheek. My smaller hands touch his face, trying to wipe away tears I do not understand.

“But why?” I ask. “Are you coming with? And mummy?”

His expression breaks and another tear falls from his eyes.

“We’ll be with you once you’re safe,” he says finally.

With a nod I touch my chest. “I don’t feel good,” I say again. “Here.”

My father looks at Bukasvad. “You did it?” he asks.

“Yes,” Bukasvad says, wiping his face. “I also know where to get the dye. Father taught me everything I need to do.”

I don’t understand.

But no one explains.

And just like that we start running until we escape the pack house.

But then I find it weird that one moment I'm in my father's arms and the next I'm in the woods on Bukasvad's back as he keeps running.

I look back, wondering what happened to my father but the scene changes again.


A mansion rises in the dark. It looks old yet well taken care of.

“Psst.”

The sound cuts through the thoughts in my head. I don't recognize this place and strange enough, I can feel the grass under my feet.

“Psst!”

A large gate slams open on its own.

My feet move forward before I decide to move at all.

I look around but indeed there is no one here.

No presence. Not even an animal. It makes me uncomfortable but I keep walking, stopping when I get to the door.

The door silently opens by itself and I step inside.

Inside, the air feels different… strong with a strange presence.

The ceilings stretch higher than they normally should. Dark paint is used on almost everything, with little bits of white and red colors on curtains or tables.
Iron candle holders line the walls, each flame unmoving yet burning.

Strangely enough, the room feels like it has been waiting for me specifically.

“Pray tell me,”

I flinch, turning to the corner the masculine voice had come from.

But there's no one there.

“What do you stand to gain,” he continues, disgust lacing his every word. “by bearing the mark of a werewolf?”

No one is there.

“As though it isn’t disgusting enough,” a woman’s voice hisses next. “That your grandparents grovelled for shelter at the feet of those insolent creatures.”

I step back, sensing how close to me they are.

I can feel them.

But I cannot see them.

“Isn’t it silly of you to try and scare the pup by keeping yourselves out of sight?” Another voice mutters behind me and I turn sharply again.

And then I see him.

Standing behind me, his gaze locked past my shoulder, hard and fixed on the direction the earlier voices came from, is someone who looks half man and wolf.

“Who are you?” I stutter.

That is when his eyes finally meet mine, his expression changing into something softer.