Chapter 8 Becoming Rafe
I made it halfway to the Sterling estate before I stopped running.
My short hair whipped around my face, the ragged cuts I'd made with Rafe's knife uneven and rough. His collar sat heavy around my neck. His Academy letter was clutched in my hand.
But something was wrong.
I'd left Rafe's body in the clearing.
The assassins would find it. They'd take it back to Uncle Mordath as proof. They'd parade it around as evidence that the Oracle twins were dead.
My brother's body deserved better than that.
Through my destroyed throat, I made a sound that might have been a growl or a sob. Then I turned around and started running back.
I was faster now with my short hair and lighter frame. Rafe had always been slightly stronger, but I'd always been faster. One of the small differences between us.
The thought made my chest ache with fresh grief, but I pushed it down. I could mourn later.
I ran through the destroyed forest, past trees I'd shattered with my scream, over cracks in the earth my power had created. The devastation was a path leading me back to the clearing.
As I got closer, I heard voices. The assassins had found the clearing. They were searching through the wreckage.
"Where the hell is it?" one of them shouted. "The Sterling heir should be right here!"
"Maybe the sister took it," another suggested.
"A slip of a girl carrying a full-grown wolf? Don't be stupid."
I pressed myself against a tree, breathing quietly. They were standing right in the clearing where I'd left Rafe. How had they not found him?
Then I saw it.
The hair I'd cut off and let fall across his body was glowing faintly silver, spreading across his wolf form like a shroud. And everywhere the hair touched, Rafe's body was becoming transparent. Fading. Disappearing.
Oracle magic. My hair, my grief, my power—it was hiding him. Protecting him even in death.
"The body's gone," the lead assassin said, frustrated. "The Oracle magic must have incinerated it or transported it somewhere. Mordath's not going to be happy about this."
"We have witnesses that he's dead. Marcus saw him go down. We all saw the poison hit. No one survives silver poison like that."
"Mordath wanted proof. A body."
"Then we tell him the Oracle bitch took it. That she has some kind of ritual planned."
They were leaving. Moving away from the clearing.
I waited until their voices faded completely, then crept forward.
Rafe's body was still there, but barely visible now. The silver glow from my hair had spread to cover him completely, and he looked more like a ghost than a corpse. I could see through him to the ground beneath.
I grabbed what remained of Rafe's body—it felt lighter now, insubstantial—and started dragging him back to the temple.
Our temple. The only place that made sense to lay him to rest.
THE BURIAL
It took hours to drag his massive wolf form through the forest. My arms felt like they were being torn from their sockets. My legs could barely hold my weight. My throat still burned from the scream.
But I refused to leave him.
The sun was setting by the time I reached the temple entrance. I dragged Rafe's body through the main chamber, past the murals of the Twin Moons, past the cushions where we'd spent countless nights talking, past the altar where we'd seen visions of our mother.
To the foundation chamber beneath the main temple. The place where we'd been born. Where our mother had brought us into the world before the Council came for her.
It seemed right that Rafe should rest here too.
The foundation chamber had a natural depression in the floor. I laid Rafe's wolf form in it as gently as I could, positioning him so he looked like he was sleeping rather than dead.
Then I started covering him with stones from the temple walls.
It took hours. My hands bled from moving the heavy rocks. My back ached. My vision blurred with exhaustion and grief.
But I built him a cairn. A proper burial mound made of the same ancient stones that had protected us for years.
When it was finished, I took his knife and carved his name into the largest stone.
RAFE STERLING
TWIN MOON ORACLE
BELOVED BROTHER
My hands shook as I carved each letter. This was real. This was permanent.
I sat down beside the cairn and stared at it.
The temple was silent around me. No twin voice in my head. No warm presence in my chest. No bond connecting me to another living soul.
Just emptiness.
I sat there as the sun set completely. Sat there as night deepened and the moon rose. Sat there as dawn came and went.
I didn't move. Didn't eat. Barely breathed.
On the third day, I heard his voice. Not through the bond—the bond was severed, dead, gone. But a memory so vivid it felt real.
"Complete the prophecy. For both of us."
The words echoed through the empty temple, and I blinked for the first time in hours.
Rafe was dead. But his last request wasn't.
He'd asked me to take his place. To go to the Academy. To find the Keystone. To finish what we'd started.
And I'd been sitting here for three days doing nothing.
I stood on shaking legs. My muscles had gone stiff from sitting motionless. My throat was still raw. My hands were crusted with dried blood.
But I could move. I could act. I could fulfill my brother's dying wish.
TRANSFORMATION
I stood before the small mirror we'd brought to the temple years ago, scissors in hand, and studied my reflection.
My hair was already cut short from the rough job I'd done over Rafe's grave, but it was uneven and ragged. If I was going to convince anyone I was Rafe Sterling, I needed to look exactly like him.
I'd spent nine years studying my twin. I knew every detail of his appearance, every mannerism, every gesture.
Now I had to become him.
I started with the hair, carefully trimming it to match Rafe's exact style. The length, the way it fell across his forehead, the slight wave at the back.
When I finished, I stared at my reflection and felt a jolt of recognition. With short hair and the same bone structure, I looked almost exactly like him.
Next came the body. I wrapped training cloth around my chest tightly, flattening it, making my torso look more masculine. When I pulled on one of Rafe's shirts, the fit was perfect.
We'd always been identical in height and build. Every piece of clothing that fit him fit me just as well.
I practiced his walk. Back straight. Shoulders back. Confident stride. Look people in the eye instead of at the ground.
It felt wrong at first. I'd spent seventeen years trying to be invisible, making myself as small as possible to avoid being hurt.
But gradually, it started to feel more natural.
I practiced his expressions. The slight furrow between his eyebrows when thinking. The way he'd tilt his head when someone spoke. The small smile he'd give when something amused him.
I practiced his writing too, copying pages from his notebooks until I could forge his handwriting perfectly.
I packed his bag with his belongings. His clothes, his books, his notepad and pencils, his formal uniforms.
At the bottom, I found a photograph of us together. Sitting side by side, holding hands, both smiling with identical expressions.
Two halves of one soul.
I stared at it for a long moment, then tucked it into the inner pocket of Rafe's jacket. Close to my heart.
I returned to the foundation chamber one final time.
I stood before Rafe's cairn and spoke out loud, my damaged voice still raspy.
"I carry you with me now. Everything I do from this moment forward, I do for both of us. We finish this together, brother. Even if I'm the only one still breathing."
I touched the cairn one last time.
Then I turned and walked out of the temple as Rafe Sterling.
THE RETURN
The walk to the Sterling estate took less time than I expected. It was early afternoon when I approached from the direction of the hunting grounds.
The estate looked different. Guards everywhere. Windows being repaired where they'd shattered during my scream. People moved with tension and fear.
I walked up to the main gate with Rafe's confident stride.
The guards stared at me in shock.
"Lord Rafe! We thought—we heard—there was an attack—"
I pulled out Rafe's notepad and wrote quickly in his handwriting.
I was hunting in the deep forest. I heard the commotion and came back as quickly as I could. What happened?
"There were assassins, my lord. In the forest. We found evidence of a fight. Blood. Silver poison. We thought—"
He cut himself off. They'd thought Rafe was dead.
I'm fine, as you can see. Where is my father?
"In his study, my lord."
I walked past them into the estate. Every step felt surreal. I was walking into Rafe's home, wearing his clothes, pretending to be him.
And everyone was believing it.
I found Lord Daemon's study and knocked.
"Come in," his voice called out, strained and exhausted.
When he turned and saw me, his face went through shock, relief, joy.
Then something else. Something harder to read.
He studied me carefully, taking in every detail. Something was different. I could see him noticing it.
But that made sense, didn't it? Trauma changed people.
"Rafe," Lord Daemon said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank the Moon Goddess you're safe. I thought—when I heard about the attack—"
I wrote: I was in the deep forest. I heard something but didn't realize it was an attack until I got back. What happened?
"Assassins. Council agents. They came for Oracle bloodlines. They were tracking someone in the forest."
Did they find who they were looking for?
"We don't know. There was evidence of a fight. Silver poison. But no body was recovered."
I kept my face neutral and wrote: I should get ready for the Academy. The carriage leaves tomorrow morning, doesn't it?
Daemon stared at me for a long moment. Something in his eyes looked uncertain, questioning.
"Yes. Tomorrow morning. You should rest tonight."
I nodded and turned to leave.
"Rafe," Daemon called after me. "Are you alright?"
I wrote one word: Fine.
Then I left before he could ask anything else.
As I walked to Rafe's bedroom—my bedroom now—I felt Lord Daemon's eyes following me.
He suspected something. But he didn't know what. And he didn't know that his real son was dead, buried in a temple foundation, while his adopted daughter had taken his place.
I closed the bedroom door behind me and finally allowed myself to breathe.
I'd done it. I'd convinced Lord Daemon I was Rafe.
Tomorrow, I'd get on that carriage to Lycan Spirit Academy.
And no one would ever know the truth.