Weariness tugs at my body, making my limbs tremble as I step onto the cobbled path. How do mortals manage to do things when they grow so tired, so easily?
At the end of the path, the lights in our two-story home are turned off and the chimney is smoke-free. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that. The cottage was built in the late seventeenth century and contains many of the original furnishings. It’s pleasant in summer but dreadful in winter, which is why Grandma always has a fire on. As for the lights, Redera is afraid of the dark, so our bedroom light is always switched on at dusk.
A feeling of ice-cold dread creeps over my shoulders.
I hold my breath and take another step, raising my fists just in case.
Someone grabs me from behind and spins me around. My hand goes down through a hidden slit in my skirt to the sheath strapped to my thigh. I come up with my dagger. The enchantment that should have made my hands tingle is missing, probably sucked dry by Lucifer, but the edge is still sharp. I press that edge of the blade into the throat of the man who grabbed me.
“It’s me,” Broin shouts in a whisper.
Broin Blackstone, a long-time friend of the family and my Daddy, puts his hand over my mouth and his arm around my waist. His crimson eyes are wide with fear, but I know that he’s not afraid of me. Broin isn’t afraid of anything. I frown up at him, all fight gone in the face of his obvious alarm. He shakes his head sharply and seizes my dagger hand in an almost painful grip.
“Hurry,” he whispers, pulling me back into the woods.
He’s got the instincts of a druid, born from years as a hunter, and he leads me quickly through the brambles and underbrush. He can pass without a single branch grabbing at him, but I’m not so lucky. Apparently when Lucifer made me unmagical, he also made me clumsy. I crash through the vegetation after him; Broin gives me a hard look, probably wondering what’s wrong with me. I just shrug helplessly and follow where he leads. He’s never appeared this alarmed before. Something is clearly amiss, but questions will have to come later.
He takes me to his cabin nestled among the trees. Once we’re inside, he activates the wards Grandma gave him to repay him for the wild game he brings our family each Sunday. I should see a flash of light and feel the power rise when they’re switched on.
I see and feel nothing.
This is going to take some getting used to.
The wards make it so that the cabin is invisible even to magic folk and any noise we make can’t be heard by the outside world. As soon as the wards are activated, he rushes over to the fireplace and stirs life back into the embers with a poker.
I remain in the doorway, watching him for a moment. His hunched body is rigid with tension and his face is bathed in a thin sheen of sweat. This isn’t the Broin I’m familiar with at all. He’s always calm and in control, silent but watchful.
He turns to me, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “What happened to you?”
I don’t want to get into it, so I walk over to him and say, “I got lost.”
I expect him to scoff at me, or to mock me; instead, he returns to the fire. “Well, thank all the gods of the underworld for that. If you’d been there, they’d have found you, too.”
The blood drains from my face as I watch him poke through the ash. “What are you talking about? Why did you drag me away from the cottage? Why were all the lights out? Where are Redera and Grandma?”
Broin’s eyes fill with tears. He gives me a sympathetic look and my heart clenches with fear. I don’t like where this is going. Something isn’t just amiss. Something terrible has happened.
“Ravyn,” he says at last, his hoarse voice cracking,“I tried, but they…”
He chokes on the words and I flare up with anger. I don’t like his look or his erratic behavior. I especially don’t like that he’s upset.
“Spit it out, Broin. What’s going on?”
One of those tears falls, tracing a silver path down his tanned cheek. “Your family… They’re gone.”
I know my grandmother will be mad at me for renouncing Lucifer, but moving away so soon seems both abrupt and out of character. She’d yell—in sign language, since she’s deaf—but not abandon me.
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” I demand, twisting my face at him. A nervous panic ripples through my body. “Have they left the Draoich? Gone shopping for the day? Ditched our horses for an Uber into the mortal world? Tell me.”
“Ravyn…”
“What?”
He breathes a deep sigh, his forehead creasing. “The Witch Hunters came. For whatever reason, the protections didn’t work. They found your family.”
The cold I was feeling turns to ice. My voice is small, barely even audible. “What do you mean?”
“They’re dead! Elnora and Redera… the wolves…”
I collapse into one of the armchairs, my knees giving out under me. I’m scarcely and yet fully aware of Broin’s words falling upon my ears. They echo with such conviction that I know in my heart what he says is the truth. As a Huntsman and Knight of the Wood, he swore on his life to protect my family. But now…now he says that they’re gone. Just like that?
My head swims with the words and shock rapidly numbs my body. I lean forward and place my head between my knees, breathing in through my nose and out from my mouth. Bile rises into my throat, constricting my airway, and an erratic sob escapes my lips. It’s a mixture between a laugh and a cry.
“N-no, you’re wrong,” I choke out, my vision blurred with unshed tears, “you must be, Broin!”
Broin just shakes his head, and, reaching out a trembling hand, falls to my feet. He takes my head into his hands and presses our foreheads together.
This can’t… be happening…
The Rosso Lupa Pack, whose alpha we slander as the Big Bad Wolf, has been hunting our clan for centuries. My three-times great-grandmother, Esmeralda Hemlock, tried to get the God of Light to end our clan’s famine and keep everyone from starving. When that failed and she received no answer to her prayers, she offered a sacrifice to the Dark Lord instead.
That sacrifice was paid in blood.
Little had she known that the wolf she killed was also the only heir to the alpha at that time. Our famine ended and we began our history of dark magic, our worship of the Dark Lord instead of the Storyteller who forsook us. But the Rosso Lupa wolves swore their vengeance. They became Witch Hunters and slaughtered many of our clan. With so few of us surviving the ruthless witch hunts, our Dark Lord hid us from them with powerful magic. We were safe for generations.
Until now.
When he said he’d remove his protection of me, he also meant my family. He stopped hiding them because of my renunciation.
This is all my fault.
Broin, knowing nothing of what I’ve done, leans back to look at me. “I saw their hunting party, but I didn’t think anything of it. They’d never seen your house before, so why would I think they’d see it now? And I didn’t do anything. But then I heard… and then I saw…”
My voice is still small. Weak. Broken. “Shut up.”
“I went back to help as soon as I heard what was happening. I swear I did. But I…”
“Shut up!”
He shakes his head, his dark curls brushing his shoulders. “They’re still there, Little Red. I couldn’t let you go back to the house. They knew there was one witch missing and they’re waiting for you.”
Fury rips through me and I leap to my feet. The dagger is still in my hand, and I grip it hard enough to make my palm ache. “Then I’m going to pay them a visit!”
“No,” he says firmly, straightening up. “There’s ten of them and only one of you.”
I shake my head at him in disbelief.
This can’t be real. This can’t be happening!
If this is somebody’s idea of a joke, it’s a really fucking rotten one and I don’t like it. I take a step toward the door, but Broin gets in my way, standing between me and the exit. His powerful body towers nearly a
foot above me.
“I’m not letting you go.” The sincerity on his face would have warmed me at one point. Now I want to push him away, hit him, or scream until my lungs bleed.
I bring the dagger up and put the tip against his chest, right above his heart. “I’ll kill you if you don’t get out of the way.”
“Then kill me if you have to. I’m not going to live in a world without you in it, Little Red. I’ve already lost El and your sister. I’m not going to lose you too.”
His stupid devotion takes my strength away; I drop my weapon hand to my side, where it hovers in frustration. My eyes sting with tears and I waver, my anger melting into grief. Even hearing my nickname fills me with anger and despair. I’ve always been called Little Red since I was an infant. Grandma said it’s because of how much I look like Esmeralda. My twin, on the other hand, was given the name Big Red because of her big, doey eyes.
Now… now the nicknames make me want to burst into tears.
“Are they…” My voice cracks. I can’t even say the words. “Are you sure?”
Broin shakes his head at me. “Ten wolves dedicated to killing witches. Do you really think your granny and sister can stand up to that?”
“Their magic—”
“Gone. If the protections on the house were taken away, it’s quite possible that everything else was, too.”
To my immense embarrassment and frustration, I begin to weep. I turn my back on him, because I don’t want him to see my weakness or my guilt. When Lucifer took my magic as punishment for abandoning him, he must have taken it from my family, too. His wrath at my ingratitude has cost me everything. No grandma. No twin sister to annoy me or steal my clothes when I’m not looking.
Gone. Just like that.
I knew our unholy lord was full of spite, but this… I wasn’t expecting this.
He said I’d live to regret my choice. He was right.
What have I done…?
I stare into Broin’s fireplace for what feels like an eternity. Time seems to be mocking me now. Every prolonged second is heavier than the last; no matter how often I look at the clock above the mantel, barely any time is passing. It’s like the universe is taking great pleasure in my torment.
I wipe my palms against my dress again and try to rub the goosebumps off my arms. My favorite red gown, hand-stitched by Grandma, suddenly feels itchy against my ivory skin. I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring into the fire. It’s like I’m determined these stupid flames will incinerate the last few hours from my mind.
But I know such a thing is impossible. I need to live with what I’ve done.
I’m a monster.
I feel like I’ve been put under a hideous spell. My family is dead because I wanted to attend a different school. How could I have been so utterly cruel and selfish?
Tears burn my eyes again and in my exhausted state, I let them fall and slip off my cheeks. It should’ve been me the wolves found. Not my sweet old grandma or my perfectly innocent twin sister.
It takes every scrap of willpower not to run home and see the carnage for myself. Despite how desperately I want to disagree with Broin, he’s completely right. Going back there, with no magic and a pack of loitering Witch Hunters, would be tantamount to suicide.
I might not want to be alive right now, but if I’m to avenge my family, I need to stay alive until the deed is done.
I turn to Broin, who slouches on the chair beside me. He hasn’t moved either since he sat us both down again.
“How long until we can go back?” I ask, swallowing down my grief.
His eyes are misted with barely contained tears. “Before I answer that, I want you to tell me what you were doing at the altar.”
Another stab of dread cuts through my stomach, forcing me to look away. “I didn’t know this would happen.”
While sitting here, his thoughts must have caught up with him. He wants to know what I’ve done.
“What…were you doing…at the altar?” he repeats through gritted teeth.
My bottom lip trembles. “You know what I was doing there, I’ve been talking about it for months.” I turn my head toward him again. “I surrendered my magic, Broin. I went to the Dark Lord and told Him that I wanted to be with Redera, but I never imagined…I never knew…”
Before Broin answers, he snaps his head to the side and sniffs the air.
Whatever scent he’s picked up, it isn’t good. He’s already at the door before I can blink.
“What can you smell?”
Broin looks through the peep hole in the wooden door. “They’ve set fire to the cottage.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I push off the chair and rush over to him. Smoke seeps through the cracks in the windows and doors, wrapping around the cabin like a thick blanket. It’s not enough to indicate that the forest has caught fire, but it’s enough to know my home has been ravished by the flames.
“Stay here,” he warns, gathering a burst of emerald magic into his palm.
“Do you really just expect me to wait here?” I argue, unsheathing my blade.
“I don’t expect,” Broin snarls, opening the door, “I’m ordering you to stay here until I know it’s safe. Remember you’re a mortal now. You don’t stand a chance against the wolves.”
I glare up at him, absolutely refusing to listen. We’re not in the bedroom anymore! Everything I once held dear in life, every person, memory, laughter and tear, are being erased as we speak.
Because of me.
“Mortal or not, I’m coming with you,” I say decisively, stepping onto the threshold.
I barely set my foot on the ground when I’m suddenly pulled back.
The door swings over and locks from the outside. Emerald flames swirl around the door handle, signalling that he’s set an entrapment spell around the cabin. I could kick and punch the door until I’m blue in the face, but it’s no use. I won’t be able to get out of here unless he lifts the enchantment.
“Let me out, Broin!”
“Sorry, Little Red—” A blue light emanates from behind the door, “—but I can’t lose you, too.”
Anger surges through me, erasing the weakness that had been draining my body. I move over to the nearest window and Broin, losing himself amongst the smoke-filled trees, transforms into his raven. I watch him take to the sky, and my rage dissipates into all-consuming shame and guilt.
Broin is just trying to protect me.
He gave up everything to protect my family. He abandoned his clan, his coven, his entire life to fulfill the debt owed to my grandfather. When Broin was severely wounded during the Silva War, my grandfather took him into our home. Broin was just a druid forced to fight for a coven who saw him as another pawn in their game for power. His life changed the second my family took him in.
Even before our clan was cursed by the God of Light, my family were highly-respected healers. So I’m not really sure if it was fate or just luck that sent Broin to my grandfather that day. But I’m told he had managed to heal Broin by doing the unthinkable.
He brought him back from the dead.
No witch or warlock has ever managed to repeat the spell without cursing themselves. Since necromancy is a form of powerful magic with great sacrifice, not many dare to try it. But my grandfather did, and our clan leaders have despised our family ever since. They don’t like to feel challenged. Those who do pose a threat to the ruling council, the Maleficis Invictus, usually get banished to Underland. My family has long speculated that my grandfather didn’t simply vanish off the face of the earth. He was taken from us.
But despite my grandfather’s immense power, there was still a sacrifice to be made when Broin was brought back. Once dawn came the next morning, my grandfather found a raven sitting where Broin had been resting. He had unknowingly cursed his patient, and every day since, Broin has been forced to become a raven until the sun dips below the horizon. Only then can he choose to walk as a free man again. He wasn’t exactly angry about it; he was just glad t
o be alive and vowed to protect our family ever since.
I lean against the window, allowing my thoughts to focus on Broin. Anything to take my mind off…
I clench my eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath. Ravens are harbingers of death and messengers of the underworld. The message they wanted to convey that day was a warning not to interfere with the afterlife again. Safe to say, my grandfather never did, and our family—in fact our coven—has been forbidden to perform necromancy ever again.
What’s taking him so long?
I pace the length of the room, twisting my blade in frustration. When I hear a distant caw, I run over to the door, desperate to find out what happened. The magic evaporates from the handle and Broin enters not a moment later, his clothes covered in ash. The blood recedes from his face the instant our eyes meet. He looks as if he’s about to be sick.
I tenderly touch his arm, but he pulls away as if jolted by the contact.
“Broin, it’s… it’s me.”
He shakes his head, a savage line drawn between his brows. “The hunters set fire to the house. There’s…there’s nothing left. It’s all gone. I’m s-sorry.” He chokes on the last word, and an unbearable weight clenches around my heart, pressing in like a thousand hot knives. He blinks down at me, his eyes wide but empty with shock. I’ve never seen him so desolate before. “I’m sorry, Little Red. I failed you.”
I reach out to touch him again, but something stops me and I let my arm fall numbly at my side. I want to hug him and tell him that everything will be okay. But I don’t have it in me to say the words, let alone believe them. There’s an emptiness in my heart and it’s spreading through my body.
“We’re going to get through this,” Broin whispers, nodding to himself.
I nod with him, though I’m no longer paying attention. Flickers of light dance in the trees behind him. The fire. With the hunters gone, I don’t see why Broin would stop me from going home now. It’s not like I’ll be in any danger. I take a deep breath, and finding my resolve, I slide by him.
Once Upon A Wolf: A Dark Academy Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Everafter Academy Book 1) Page 2