Chapter 36 Ravens and Whispers

Chapter 36 Ravens and Whispers
Elara's POV

I must have drifted off despite my anxiety, because when I opened my eyes again, the room was bathed in silvery moonlight. Selena sat at the small desk by the window, her silhouette outlined against the night sky as she hunched over a piece of parchment, quill moving steadily across the page.

"You're writing it now?" I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

Selena didn't turn. "The sooner, the better. Every day we stay increases our risk."

I sat up, curious despite myself. "What are you telling him?"

"That you're my adopted daughter who needs protection. That circumstances have become dangerous for us here." She dipped the quill in ink again. "I'm reminding him of the debt he owes me and asking him to honor it now."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. "How do you know he'll agree?"

"Because he's a man of his word." She finally turned to face me, her expression solemn in the moonlight. "And because the alternative would weigh on his conscience."

"Will you..." I hesitated, uncertain how to phrase my question. "Will you tell him what I am? What I was?"

Selena shook her head. "He doesn't need to know more."

She turned back to her letter, adding a few more lines before folding it carefully. I expected her to seal it with wax, but instead, she held the folded paper between her palms and closed her eyes. Her lips moved in silent incantation, and the paper began to glow faintly blue.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, fascinated despite my anxiety.

The paper shimmered and transformed, folding and reshaping itself until a small raven sat in Selena's hands. The bird ruffled its feathers, its beady eyes glinting with unnatural intelligence.

"Take this to Connor," Selena whispered to the bird. "Return with his answer."

The raven cawed once, then flew to the window, which Selena opened with a quick gesture. It disappeared into the night, a shadow among shadows.

"A messenger spell," she explained, seeing my wide eyes. "Faster and more reliable than human couriers. Less noticeable than a wolf messenger."

"I didn't know you could do that," I said softly.

"There's much about my magic you don't know." She closed the window. "And perhaps it's time you learned some yourself."

The next morning, Victor was waiting by the well when I went to draw water. His sudden appearance startled me so badly I nearly dropped the bucket.

"Good morning, Elara," he said pleasantly, though his eyes remained cold. "You're up early."

I lowered my gaze, as I imagined Maya would have done. "Good morning, Alpha. Just completing my chores."

"Admirable dedication." He leaned against the well's stone wall, blocking my path. "I noticed you and your mother seemed... distressed yesterday. Is everything alright?"

My pulse quickened. Had he seen me in the town square? "Everything's fine," I murmured. "Mother was just concerned about my health. I haven't been sleeping well."

"Nightmares?" he asked, his voice deceptively gentle.

I froze. How could he know?

"A common affliction," he continued when I didn't answer. "Many of us suffer them after witnessing... tragic events."

The memory of Ethan's execution flashed unbidden through my mind. I gripped the bucket tighter. "Yes. That must be it."

"What do you dream about, sweetheart?" Victor stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you dream of the execution? Or something else entirely?"

I forced myself to meet his gaze. "I don't remember my dreams, Alpha. I just wake up... afraid."

He studied me for a long moment, then smiled thinly. "If your nightmares persist, you should speak with our healer."

"Thank you for the suggestion," I managed. "I'll consider it."

Victor nodded and finally stepped aside. "Give your mother my regards."

As I hurried away with my water, I could feel his eyes on my back—calculating, suspicious, and entirely too interested. A cold shiver traced down my spine, like skeletal fingers against my skin.

Victor's interest was never innocent—it was the attention of a predator who had caught an unfamiliar scent and wouldn't rest until he identified it.

---

"He knows something," I told Selena later, my hands still shaking. "The way he looked at me..."

"He suspects, but he doesn't know," Selena corrected, peering out our cottage window. "If he knew, we'd already be in chains."

"What if the raven doesn't come back? What if Connor refuses?"

"Then we leave anyway," Selena said with finality. "But for now, we wait. And prepare."

Preparation, as it turned out, meant magic lessons.

"Your body remembers what your mind does not," Selena explained, placing a candle before me on our kitchen table. "Maya was my daughter. Her muscles, her reflexes—they know the basics of spellcraft."

"But I don't," I protested.

"You will." Selena's voice was firm. "Focus on the candle. Feel the heat waiting inside the wick. Call to it."

For three frustrating days, I stared at unlit candles until my eyes watered. I muttered incantations that felt foreign on my tongue. I traced sigils in the air that my fingers somehow remembered while my mind remained blank.

On the fourth day, just when I was ready to give up, the candle sparked to life beneath my outstretched hand.

"I did it!" I gasped, staring at the dancing flame in wonder.

Selena's smile was the first genuine one I'd seen in days. "You did. Not Maya—you."

Something shifted inside me at her words. This magic wasn't Maya's anymore. It was mine. A small victory, but it felt monumental.

We progressed to simple protection spells after that. Warding gestures to deflect unwanted attention. Concealment charms to mask our presence. Small magics that might mean the difference between escape and capture if the worst happened.

Each spell I mastered felt like reclaiming a piece of myself—not Maya or Layla, but someone new. Someone who could perhaps survive in this strange new world.

The cottage filled with the earthy scent of herbs and the metallic tang of magic—an aroma so different from the wild, primal scents of pack life that had once defined my existence. In this new world of incantations and energy, I found a fragile thread of hope to cling to.

On the seventh night, I woke to a soft tapping at my window. Disoriented, I sat up, half-convinced I was sleepwalking again. But the room was solid around me, and the tapping persisted.

A dark shape fluttered against the glass. The raven had returned.