REVELATIONS

According to the stories we were told as kids, the Arkton wolf clan was one of the most dangerous to exist. They were known to pick up war with rival communities and smaller werewolf towns to gain dominance and pretty soon, they had a lot of coverage; more lands, more slaves, more wolves bowing to their feets. And then… out of greed to cover more land mass, they wandered over the mountains, aiming to overcome the blackoak clan as well as other communities after us.

As the story had been told, passed down between generations—our Alpha King at that time would never put out without a fight. So for years after years, the war continued, each time more brutal than the last. Children were killed, houses set on fire, women taken as slaves, the strongest soldiers reduced to nothing. Then the Alpha of that time, seeing he could not win this by himself, travelled in search of the Shakral committee members, a generation of strong wizards and witches meant to give stability in the supernatural world. 

When they came down in response to the Alpha’s plea, the Arkton’s dared to test their abilities and most of their soldiers ended up being burned to ashes as a result of this. The rest of the soldiers fled, returning back to Eldrida, tails between their legs. 

Then, the rift had been created. Only mixed bloods could pass through—meaning a werewolf with parents from both clans which had been strictly forbidden. Either that or the magical border was finally wearing out and just anybody could drift through now. 

Anybody; just like I’d done, according to the white haired woman

I spent the night stirring in my sleep, bathed in sweat, the sheets twisted around my limps. Outside the window, there were the occasional howls of wolves in the distance fighting to gain dominance over the whistles of the wind rattling against the windows. Occasionally, the panes shook aggressively, as if being pushed by an invisible force and every time I opened my eyes to look at them, tall shadowy figures would swirl past like spies being caught in action. 

I was so sickened I thought I would fall out of this creaky bed and pass out. Mariamme Elyriana, as she introduced herself, hadn’t served me food to the hunger that terrorised me and churned my belly. No. Instead she provided a concoction, tasted like pig poop dipped in alcohol—not like I had an idea what pig poop should taste like or not —but the mix was terrible and no matter how much I wanted to puke, the content wouldn’t leave my belly and the taste lingered at the back of my throat.

She said it’s to hasten my healing, complete it to an extent so I could be up and healthy the next day. She was a healer, which explained how a woofless werewolf like me had healed from such terrible wounds in just five days. 

Through the night, my stomach growled and churned, and I pulled the cover over my face, listening on to the sound of the wolves howling in the distance and the shadowy figures persisting against the windows like spies who weren’t so good at their jobs. 

In the morning, I asked Mariamme about it when I stepped into the living room, taking my first steps in five days, the ground swaying beneath my feet, promising to give out. 

“Do you think they know I’m here?” My voice was hoarse still, barely even a whisper but she heard. Of course she did, she was a healer werewolf, they would sense a presence as far as the woods even before they stepped foot into their territory. I was sure she had been awaiting me the moment I fell into the Eldrida but wouldn’t admit it. I leaned against a couch in the living room, my vision doubling. “Do you think they know I broke the rule?”

“Who’s they?” She asked. She was all the way in the kitchen, blocked by a wall separating the room from the living room. “The committee members or Alpha Zael’s sorceress?” 

“Which is worse?” 

She was silent for longer than I expected, as if weighing her options while trying not to scare me. Pans clattered from the kitchen and the smell of breakfast cooking wafted through the air, filling the entire house, causing my stomach to growl in response. I lifted my head, awaiting a response and when I heard nothing still, began staggering towards the kitchen. 

As I neared the threshold, she finally gave a response. “Zael’s sorceress. The committee members, not so much, they’d never come back after the big one…"

She came into view as I leaned against the door pane. Yesterday, when I was in bed, she appeared to have a large frame but today, I realized she was smaller—a petite woman, literal pixar mom shaped. Her hair, platinum blonde white, was loosened from the ponytail from the previous day and now dangled down her back, slapping against her behind in the cashmere over leggings she had on. 

I subtly watched her every move. “What is the big one?”

She looked over her shoulder briefly, acknowledging my presence with a smile and then went back to flipping eggs in a pan. “The last fight between the Arktons and the Blackoak. The Volturi's—”

“Wait, there’s more?” I asked, my brow tugged over my eyes. “Who are the Volturi’s?” 

“Vampires.” Her voice was brief, as if she didn’t want to touch more on the subject. When she turned off the gas, she whipped around with two plates in her hands. Eggs and bacon. “There’s enough time to dig history, Feyre, for now, you need to eat.”

“That…”

“What?”

“How do you know my name? I never mentioned it.”

A smile danced at the corner of her lips as she handed me a plate. “You’re one inquisitive kid.”

I wasn’t smiling. I needed to know. “How?”

“I know a lot of things about you, Feyre.”

“How? Have we met before?” 

I took the plate from her hands and wobbled after her like a clingy boy toddler wanting to be in his mother’s laps while she ate. We stepped back into the living room. It was a cold morning as it had been overnight. Much colder than it had been back home, it seemed almost like while Blackoak were in autumn, Arkton were weeks further into winter. Snow hadn’t begun falling yet but the window panes creaked occasionally like ice were spreading over them. No shadows like there had been at night. 

I settled at the small table in the living room which had nothing more than a three seater couch, an old television and a flickering light bulb overhead, bathing the room in a warm hue. No sunlight. The color of the day was grey, and looked as cold as it felt. Mariamme had been kind enough to offer me better clothing the previous day—an oversized sweatshirt and pants—triple my size, pretty sure they were owned by a man. His scent was all over it. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask who they belonged to. I was grateful to be warm enough in them. 

Mariamme was purposely trying to avoid giving answers to my question. “Eat,” she ordered the moment my plate clanked against the table.

I persisted. “How do you know who I am? Why are you keeping me safe? Doesn’t that endanger you? Do they know I’m here?” 

I couldn’t just eat. There were a lot I needed answers to. A lot that made no sense to me. It was funny in a way how I’d been living my life as normal a few weeks back, caring for my sick father and just being the wolfless girl in the pack. But today, I was in a whole new territory with a strikingly beautiful woman who  seemed to know more than she was willing to say. 

Mariamme paused mid-swallow of her food. “I’m not just a healer, Feyre, I’m a seer as well. I knew you were coming here weeks before you even showed up in front of my door. I knew who you were years before you were even born.”

I gasped. 

She nodded. “I know a lot about you. How you’ve been treated. The family that raised you. Because I'm a seer, I see these things.” Her fork clattered as it met the plates. “These visions, there’s so many of them, sometimes I’m disorientated, I forget sometimes, it's hard to keep up.”

Her words sent a shiver racing down my spine, and I tightened my grip on the fork in my hand. A seer? How could she know so much about me? I wanted to ask more, but I hesitated, unsure if I was ready to hear the answers. The room seemed smaller suddenly, the weight of her revelation pressing down on me.

Mariamme watched me closely, her eyes glinting with something I couldn’t decipher—pity, perhaps, or maybe caution. Her plate was mostly untouched as she leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. “You’re in a dangerous place now, Feyre. Not just because of where you are, but because of who you’re becoming.”

“Who I’m becoming?” My voice cracked slightly. I set the fork down, the food on my plate no longer holding any appeal. “I’m nobody. I’ve always been nobody.”

She tilted her head, a soft smile gracing her lips. “You’re more than you think. And the Arktons? They’ll know it too soon enough. You can’t hide who you are forever.”

Her words felt like riddles, half-answers that only left me with more questions. “What do you mean? Why would they care about me? I’m just a wolf-less girl—”

Mariamme cut me off with a sharp wave of her hand. “You’re not wolf-less, Feyre. Your wolf… it’s dormant, but it’s there.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “No,” I whispered. “That’s impossible. If I had a wolf, I’d know. Everyone would know.”

“Not necessarily,” Mariamme said, her tone softening. “Some wolves are suppressed—hidden by magic, trauma, or something else entirely. But trust me when I say, I’ve seen glimpses of yours in my visions. It’s strong, Feyre. Stronger than you realize.”

I leaned back, my breath shallow. This couldn’t be true. My entire life, I’d been the outcast, the weakling. My lack of a wolf had defined everything about me, from the way I was treated by the pack to the way I saw myself. If what she was saying was true… it changed everything.

“I don’t understand,” I murmured. “Why would my wolf be… hidden? Who would do that?”

Mariamme’s expression darkened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. “I don’t know who or why. But I can tell you this—your arrival here isn’t a coincidence. There are forces at play far beyond what you can see, Feyre. Forces tied to your past… and your future.”

I shook my head, my hands trembling. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I just want to go home.”

She sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “I know it’s overwhelming, child. But going home isn’t an option now. The moment you crossed into Eldrida, you became part of something bigger. The Arktons will come for you if they haven’t already sensed your presence. And when they do…” She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the window. “You’ll need to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” I asked, my voice rising. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be! How am I supposed to fight an entire clan of wolves—ones with sorceresses and gods know what else—when I don’t even have a wolf of my own?”

Mariamme’s eyes softened, but there was a steeliness in her tone when she spoke. “You’re stronger than you think, Feyre. But strength alone won’t be enough. You’ll need to trust yourself, trust your instincts. And above all…” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ll need to trust your wolf. When it comes, and it will come, you’ll know what to do.”

Her words settled over me like a storm cloud, heavy and ominous. I wanted to believe her, to find comfort in the promise that I wasn’t as weak as I’d always believed. But all I felt was fear—fear of the unknown, fear of what lay ahead, and fear of what I might discover about myself.

Mariamme must have sensed my hesitation because she reached out, placing a hand over mine. “You’re not alone in this, Feyre. I’ll help you as much as I can. But you’ll need to be strong. Stronger than you’ve ever been.”

I nodded numbly, though her words did little to calm the storm raging inside me. The room felt colder now. From the distance, I picked up howls once again, that set me on edge. 

Mariamme began eating. “Eat,” she said. “Tomorrow, we’ll begin preparing. There’s much to do, and time isn’t on our side.”