248. Werewolf history

248. Werewolf history
Lia
One day, things came to a head. I was expecting this to happen because it was only a matter of time. It happened while I was just spending time together with the twins, watching them color, and enjoying being with my kids.
It was a normal, quiet day! What else would I be feeling?
I loved mornings like this, honestly. We needed to have more of them.
But then I noticed they were drawing something strange. I looked over at them and stared with a blank gaze on my face. It was so strange for me to see what they were doing. Honestly, it killed me because I didn’t understand, and not understanding something made me angry.
I nearly dropped my tea when I saw what Gemma and Rowan were drawing on the kitchen floor.
They were quiet—always a bad sign—with their heads bent close together over a torn piece of cardboard. Rowan’s hand moved slowly, carefully outlining sharp curves and intersecting angles. Gemma followed with a smudgy piece of charcoal, tracing the center in jagged strokes.
It was a symbol I recognized.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, my voice sharper than I meant.
Rowan looked up calmly. “We dreamed it again.”
Gemma didn’t blink. “The fire showed it to us. Said we’d need it soon.”
My pulse skipped. I didn’t say another word. I just turned and marched to the living room, where Matt, Jesse, Colby, and Rain were in various stages of not watching a movie.
“We have a problem,” I said.
Matt sat up. “What kind?”
I think what was so scary about it was that I’m the one who knew this symbol. I had in a book ages ago when I was looking through the witch archives during my study. This was that symbol, as much as I hated to admit it. What else could it be?
“The ancient kind,” I said. “The twins are drawing a containment seal from a grimoire that predates modern werewolf history.”
Rain groaned. “Why is it always our twins doing the terrifying stuff?”
Colby raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Which grimoire?”
“The one I wasn’t supposed to read,” I said, folding my arms. “The one with all the warnings in Latin and blood.”
Jesse, who had been sipping something way too calmly, set his mug down. “The seal—what was it for?”
I wasn’t supposed to read it, but I did anyway because it was calling out to me. Sighing softly, I ran a hand through my hair. Jesse was giving me a look, and I could tell he didn’t approve of the decision I had made. But what was done was done.
It was a good thing I had read that book because if I hadn’t, then the kids would’ve been drawing this symbol again and again with no one understanding what was going on.
“Containing entities,” I said. “Spirits. Gods. Monsters. Things you don’t accidentally doodle on a cereal box.”
Rain let out a low whistle. “And here I was thinking they’d just seen a new horror movie and got inspired.”
“Rain,” I warned.
“I’m just saying,” he held up his hands, “one day it’s shadowy visions and now it’s prehistoric demon hieroglyphics—”
“They’re not creepy,” I snapped, smacking him lightly in the back of the head.
“Ow! Rude. I didn’t say they were creepy, I said the demon graffiti was creepy.”
“They’re not doodling demon graffiti,” I muttered.
Matt stood. “Can we see it?”
“You cannot touch it,” I corrected. “But yes. Come on.”
We walked back into the kitchen. Gemma and Rowan looked up at us, unfazed.
“It’s nearly done,” Gemma said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Rowan’s eyes met mine. “We only draw what we’re told.”
Colby crouched beside the symbol, frowning. “Told by…?”
“The voice,” Gemma whispered. “From the fire.”
Rain leaned over my shoulder and muttered, “Seriously, we’re going to need a holy water budget at this rate.”
I elbowed him. “Focus.”
Matt stared at the symbol, then at me. “You sure about this?”
“I’m sure. I saw it once. It was buried in the binding section of the archive. Meant to trap things older than memory.”
Jesse crossed his arms. “So the real question is… why are they dreaming about it now?”
I looked down at the twins, both of whom were now watching us calmly. Too calmly.
“I don’t know,” I said softly. “But something’s coming.”
Rain sighed. “Of course it is.”
Research.
It was the only way I was going to get answers to my many questions.
I pulled my tablet from the bookshelf drawer, fingers trembling slightly as I keyed in the encrypted access. The archive wasn't just online—you needed clearance. Even though I was on the witches' council, it wasn’t easy for me to get answers. It was going to require me to go all the way there.
“I’m going to have to go there, I know it,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.
Jesse frowned. “You sure that’s a good idea? Last time you went down there, you came back with a bruised arm and an oath you weren’t even aware you’d taken.”
“I didn’t exactly take it,” I muttered. “They bound it to the ink in the guestbook. Who the hell does that?”
“The Archive,” Jesse said flatly.
Still, I knew I didn’t have a choice. There was something buried down there—some old knowledge no one wanted to admit existed—and it was linked to the twins. I could feel it humming beneath my skin like a storm building on the horizon.
Behind me, Rowan let out a low hum. I turned in time to see him standing beside Gemma now, hand in hers. Their eyes were still locked on me.
Fuck, there was no way I could sit here and let this go on! We had to get answers before things got any crazier. Not only was the pack counting on me, but my kids were the most important thing of all.
“You won’t like what you find,” Rowan said, voice soft and distant, almost apologetic.
Gemma nodded once. “But you have to find it anyway.”
I swallowed hard.
The decision had already been made for me.
Rain let out a whimper. “Why do I always have to be around when they start walking about this shit? It must just be my bad luck that this keeps happening. I am going to just always keep a pair of headphones on me so I can block out the creepy behavior.”
Rain had a point, but I refused to get into that luxury. If he wanted to do it, then that was on him.

Preparing to leave after not having been away from my kids since they were born was difficult. I had only been away from them for at most a day, and not a moment longer. There was no way I could bear to be away from them so long. Every minute apart felt like a missed moment, a lost chance to hold them, comfort them, witness something new they’d learned or said.
When they were young and still breastfed, this was understandably true. I was the one who needed to feed them, unless I pumped, so going away for long periods simply wasn’t an option. Even short outings required planning, coordination, and a heavy dose of emotional resilience. My body was their food, their comfort, their home. The connection was physical and deeply emotional, a tether that stretched but never broke.
This brought me to this moment. My twins are three years old now. They were still small, still in need of so much, but they were also becoming their little people—curious, energetic, and resilient in ways that surprised me every day.
It was all right if I went away for a few days, especially when I was doing all of this to protect them. I told myself that over and over. It was for them. It was always for them.
Still, the ache in my chest didn’t ease. I kissed their soft cheeks while they slept, memorized the way their hair curled at the nape of their necks, and tried to imprint the weight of their little bodies in my arms. I packed not just clothes and essentials, but also the guilt, fear, and love that came with leaving.
My main goal was to protect them no matter what. Whether I was home or far away, that instinct never dimmed. I would walk through fire for them, and if stepping away for a short while meant securing a safer future, then that’s exactly what I had to do. Even if it broke my heart a little to go.
Everything was going to be okay. Or I hoped it would be.
So many unknowns still existed, and the only way I was going to get any answers to those questions was by seeking them out. It wasn’t going to be an easy process, but I was willing to do anything for my precious twins.