Chapter 220: Aftershocks

Chapter 220: Aftershocks
As Sylvester and I walked behind my great-grandmother, it became even more clear that THIS Moon River City was not the same one we had left behind at the beginning of the spell. 

Our Moon River City had been shaped over the decades into a sterile center of war, where alphas met and discussed next steps as they made plans to control the threats of witches, hybrids, and rogues. In the battle for supremacy, walls were erected, laws changed, and the land modified–Rivers were diverted and dammed, transforming the plains between the mountains and the city into a desert.

Without food or water, the rogues were forced to steal or starve. And the witches, more afraid of the rogues than of their wolf masters, would endure any hardship or humiliation to stay within the safety of the walls, providing a continuous supply of cheap labor for the benefit of wolfkind.

And hybrids–well, there was no place for hybrid children in that world. Hybrids were too dangerous to live and needed to be killed, hidden, or sent away. 

So many of our family members suffered because of the laws and prejudices in place against hybrids. Sylvester’s mom was abused because she had been the daughter of a witch, and Sylvester was forced to be a rogue because his father could abuse them both because they didn’t have enough power to fight back. Amaryllis became Alexis because her mother had to strip the magic from her when she grew into a powerful alpha, and Hazel and Hawthorne’s mother died by the hands of their powerful beta father because of these stupid rules. 

And then there was me and my mother… Araminta and Channing… Parris Abernathy… And so many more stories not so different from our own. How many lives had been destroyed because of that bigotry?

But now, as we walk along the opulent walls of a palace that always stood here at the center of a metropolis created in cooperation and collaboration rather than in separation and war looking out into a verdant valley of green grass, flowing rivers, and a forest that seemed to stretch forever, I see what this world could have been if we things had gone differently. 

As we turn a corner, a whirling sound catches my attention and I look out the window just in time to see a high-speed monorail rush to life faster than the wind, mage lightning crackling along the rails just a moment before a porthole opens. The sign above says, “Salem, Massachusetts.” 

“Did that train just…vanish?” I whisper just as Araminta opens the door to a quiet, well-appointed room. 

“The Queen and King need their rest,” Grandmother turns towards the group, directing them to leave us in peace. “Hawthorne, wait here a moment.” The Beta pauses, his back rigid, as if afraid of what his grandmother was going to demand of him now. 

At least that hadn’t changed. Hawthorne Sparks is still terrified of our great-grandmother. 

Pulling him closer, Araminta whispers something into his ear. He frowns, looking confused, but then nods. “Yes, Luna,” he bows right before stepping backward into a small portal, blinking out of existence. 

“He’ll be back in a few minutes,” Araminta informs us as she shuts the door behind her, locking it in place. “I hope you don’t mind waiting. I’d rather not go over this more than once and I have a lot to explain.” 

“So you know what is going on here?” my mate demands, his chest inflating as he frowns down at her. “Just tell us what’s happening and…”

“Take a deep breath, pup,” she sighs. “I’m still working out the details in my mind too. Unlike you, I wasn’t in the center of the spell. I don’t…remember things quite the way you do. I’m hoping our guests can help me sort things out. Here,” she walks to a waiting tray of food and quickly offers me a plate of small bites of fruit I don’t recognize, some strange, almost translucent yellow berry that glows from within, “witch berries are fine to eat during pregnancy.” 

Tilting my head to the side I look at her strangely, “I just had the twins a few weeks ago,” I remind her. “I am not…” 

“You just performed a high-level spell on the Summer Solstice, the celebration of new life,” she dismisses me casually, as if my words were nonsense. “Of course you are pregnant. If you had been raised in this world, you’d know that too. In fact, you and your mate would have used the solstice full moon to produce your next litter.” 

“Raised in this world,” I repeat slowly. “So there are other worlds?” 

Araminta sighs. “Don’t worry, it’ll make more sense soon.”

I doubt it. There isn’t anything she could say to make more sense. 

We sit together in silence, eating the golden berries as I watch a group of school children play outside. Some of them are in half-bestial form, their hairy paws and long nails playfully scratching the air between them and a set of children who glow like stars. Wolf and witch children playing side by side, with maybe a hybrid or two mixed in. The parents look on nearby, leaning against trees, speaking casually as if their children’s games were the most natural thing. 

And maybe, in this world, it was.

Araminta rises from her chair and approaches the door, just a moment before the first knock alerts us to Hawthorne’s return. He enters, followed by his mate, Parris, and his father-in-law, Harlem Abernathy. As they move to the side, Amaryllis enters with my half brother, Calyx, followed by my best friend, Hazel, and her mate, Rudy.

“Is there a reason you called us all here?” Harlem asks, confused, his arms pressed firmly by his sides. He sounds almost like a stranger as he speaks to her, even though before, I was sure they had been lovers. 

What happened? They almost look like strangers. 

“Please take a seat,” Araminta offers, waving her arm towards a set of chairs that line a long table. “We have a lot to discuss.” 

Once we are all settled, she takes a seat in a tall, almost throne-like chair facing our group. Like a mother catching her children in a lie, she crosses her arms and glares, expectant and waiting for one of us to speak. 

When we don’t, she eventually asks. “Which one of you wants to tell me what’s going on first?” 

Sylvester and I look at one another. There is something I’m forgetting, something important that Araminta had said before we entered the spell. It was about what had happened before, when she and Channing had cast the spell to create Haven and the other hidden cities. 

And then it hit me. 

She doesn’t remember. Not the night before, and the goddess only knows how many nights before that.

And if she can’t remember what we did, does she remember what she did before, with Channing?

As my heart reads the confusion in her eyes, I feel an overwhelming need to apologize even as a sense of dread washes over me, coloring my thoughts gray with worry. I guess I just assumed that no matter what happened, Araminta would remember who she was before, and what we had done. 

I had forgotten what she had said about how the spell, in remaking the world, remakes EVERYTHING, including the people, except for those casting the spell. 

Last time, Grandmother Araminta was at the center of the spell. 

This time, she wasn’t. 

“I’m sorry, Grandmother,” I stand, approaching her slowly. “Things probably feel weird because you don’t remember the spell this time.” 

“What spell, Apple?” 

“You know which one,” I stand, looking towards Hazel, and then Amaryllis for support. “The remaking spell. The same spell you cast with Channing 35 years ago.”