Chapter 19 The Wildness Within

Chapter 19 The Wildness Within
Dixon's hands moved deliberately as he gathered the dishes, stacking them into a big bucket. The clinking of the plates was a welcome distraction from the unease building inside him. 

Izzy sat quietly, watching him with curiosity. She had a million questions, but she kept them to herself—probably didn’t want to bother him, or maybe she just didn't know where to start.

Zephyrine, hovering beside Izzy, broke the silence. “Dixon, have you meditated since you returned? Shouldn’t you meditate to get your recovery?”

Dixon's face stayed calm, but his eyes betrayed him—they flashed with irritation. He carefully placed a delicate cup into the bucket, his fingers shaking slightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. 

‘Please, just shut up.’ He silently begged.

Izzy shifted in her seat, her eyes darting between Dixon and Zephyrine. She could feel the strain and chose to remain silent, letting the moment unfold without intervention.

Zephyrine's wings fluttered anxiously as it tried again. “Dixon, I know you're upset, but ignoring me won't solve anything. We need to work together if we want to succeed.”

Dixon's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond. He finished packing the dishes, then lifted the bucket. As he turned to leave, Zephyrine's voice followed him.

“I'll just keep talking, Dixon. You can't silence me that easily.”

“Izzy's words cut through the air, halting Dixon in his tracks. “Doesn't it deserve a response, even if it's just a word?” She pressed, rising from her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “What is it that you're hiding? What happened while my eyes were closed?”

Dixon's sigh was heavy with reluctance. He didn't want her to know about his journey, and his silence spoke louder than words. He turned away and made his way to the stone hearth. The herb pot hung above the fire, its contents simmering. He filled a cup, the fragrant steam rising like a misty veil.

Izzy's gaze followed him, her eyes narrowing as she tracked his every move, her mind working overtime to unravel his silence.

Her gaze remained fixed on Dixon, her eyes tracing the lines of his face as he returned to her side. He set the cup down, the ceramic clicking softly against the wood. “Let it cool before you take it...”

His eyes met hers for a fleeting moment before he turned to leave. “I'll be inside, cleaning the room.” His words dropped like a curtain, signalling the end of their conversation.

With a swift motion, he scooped up the bucket and disappeared into the room.



Zephryine drifted into the room, its wings beating softly as it hovered in the air, eyes fixed on Dixon's broad back. It waited until Dixon turned, his gaze questioning, before he spoke. 

“You don't want her to know anything about it?” He asked. “Why don't you want her to know about everything you've done for her—for the sake of love?”

Dixon's response was a slow shake of his head. “I don't know,” his words barely above a whisper. “Maybe I don't want her worried, or feeling guilty. Or maybe I just don't want her to see it as a debt she owes me. I want her to live... happily, without burdens.”

“But–” 

“Dixon's eyes narrowed, reading Zephryine's mind. “I understand,” he said. “I know I should tell her about her soul revival, but the time isn't right... not yet. When the moment comes, I'll reveal it.”

Zephryine's face lit. “I may not feel your pain, but I've lived long enough to understand. I'll walk the path with you. I'll not breathe a word to Mother unless you permit it.”

“Thank you.” Dixon said. 

Zephyrine turned, flying out of the room with a grin. “Take care,” he said, hovering in the doorway. “I'll be outside, enjoying the fresh air with Mother... Father.”

Dixon's face cracked into a smile, a rare sound of laughter escaping his lips. It was the first time he'd found a joke funny, a surprise to himself.



Aethon stepped into the backyard, sunlight filtering through the mango tree's leaves. He unrolled a woven mat, its patterns a reminder of his grandmother's skill, and positioned it to catch the gentle breeze. 

The scent of hibiscus and damp soil filled the air, soothing him. Aethon fetched a wooden box, revealing a beeswax candle, sage, and a crystal pendant, arranging them on the mat.

He placed the candle at the mat's centre, sprinkled sage around its edges, and hung the pendant from a nearby branch, arranging the space in preparation for meditation.

Aethon settles onto the mat, his eyes closing as he breathes in deeply. The leaves rustle, insects hum, and his body relaxes into the stillness. The crystal pendant sways, casting a soft glow, as his face smooths out, his world fading into silence.

“Είθε η σιωπή να με τυλίξει, Καθώς αναπνέω, ας ξεδιπλωθεί το πνεύμα μου. Οδήγησέ με μέσα από την ηρεμία, Στα βάθη της ψυχής μου.”

Aethon's eyes flicker open, his mind a whirlwind. He tries to settle back into stillness, but his thoughts riot, his body tense. The crystal pendant's glow seems to mock him. 

Frustration creases his face. He tries again, and again, each attempt a failure. Sweat beads on his forehead, his patience fraying. His body locked up, and a searing pain ripped through him like a wildfire. 

It's a hurt he's never known, primal and annihilating. 

“Oyyyyyyy!”

His wolf screamed in agony, its voice echoing in his mind. 

He jolted upright, his eyes wild, his breath ragged. He couldn’t contain it, couldn’t silence the pain. He bolted, sprinting into the forest, leaves and branches whipping past him. 

He ran blind, driven by the agony coursing through his veins, his wolf's scream still echoing in his head. His body began to twist, his muscles rippling, his bones cracking. 

His face elongates, his senses sharpening. 

Fur bursts forth, and his clothes are torn apart. He shapeshifted to a wolf, his paws pounding the earth, his scream turning to a lupine howl. “Aooo-ooo-ooo-oooh...” 

The forest blurred around him, trees flashing by as he ran, pain and wildness entwined. 

Suddenly, his pain vanishes. He crumpled, transforming mid-fall. As he fell, he morphed back—fur retracting, face shortening, limbs reshaping. He hits the dirt hard, human and gasping. Naked, he lies there, chest heaving, the forest silent.

“What had just happened?”