The Wolven Mark

by Megan Linski

  The young sorceresses playing music began to yip and howl. The priestesses pulled from their leather bags wooden masks, grotesque and monstrous. They danced around the flames as the High Priestess lifted her hands higher.

  “We ask Tomir for his protection against evil monsters, and that this ritual shall scare away all that is dark and harmful. We ask he protect us against his dark brother, Droga. We pray this winter shall pass quickly, bringing life to our land when spring comes again.”

  The dancers picked up the pace. Their Companions joined them now, spinning around their Marked in ghostly shadows. I knew this dance well. The sorceresses were to be the warrior Arcanea, fighting against shadow, and the shifters were the monsters… ever on the hunt, looking to destroy the Arcanea for good in an endless battle that waged throughout time.

  The High Priestess raised her voice. “We ask Milonna, Tomir’s wife, for love and fair death. We ask the thief God, Luka, for justice, and his sister Vesna for wisdom. We ask Radek for truth and honesty, and beg the phantom Neva for more time— time that is never enough, and that is always cut short.”

  The cauldron’s fire blazed higher and higher. The High Priestess turned to the crowd. “Anyone who wishes to call upon the favor of a loved one beyond the veil is now allowed to come forward, and place an object of theirs into the Eternal Flame.”

  Many people rose from their seats. Young and old formed a line to the cauldron, all holding a different item. Two young parents threw a tiny wooden rattle into the cauldron before an old man kissed a photograph and tossed it within the flame. A little girl sitting on her father’s shoulders dropped a woman’s flute, and then a little boy’s toy car, into the fire. A group of teenage girls were crying as they slowly fed a prom dress into the burning flames. An Arcanean warrior did a salute as he placed a Malovian army uniform on top of the crumbling logs.

  When the line had died down, I got up and reached into my pocket. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I withdrew my father’s dagger. I tossed it into the fire, and the metal hissed as it began to overheat and dissolve onto the ashen wood. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to melt metal with an average flame, but this was no ordinary fire. The Eternal Flame was blessed by the gods, the wood enchanted to burn brighter and hotter than any average flame.

  I returned to my seat. Emma’s gaze flashed to me before she put a hand on my knee. I gave her a soft smile.

  After the offerings were placed, the High Priestess called out, “May we remember those who have passed on to the Great Hunting Grounds before us, and know that one day, we too shall join them, for the greatest blessing of the gods is a good death.”

  The High Priestess threw back her head and let out a primal cry. She began to chant and sing as she left the area. The other priestesses followed her, and the younger sorceresses stepped forward to keep watch over the Eternal Flame.

  People got up and began to follow. I prodded Emma and said, “Come on. Now it’s time to be part of the processional.”

  The High Priestess led the way through the woods as hundreds of people followed. The priestesses passed out candles, and we shared our wicks to light them as we proceeded through the forest. Emma and I stayed at the back and watched the dozens of flickering flames dance. By this time, darkness had fallen, and the forest was completely pitch black under the thin light of the nearly-vanished moon. It was a very powerful time for magic.

  I noticed Emma faltered on the winding walk up the mountain path. I put my arm around her hips to steady her.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” She was breathing a little hard. “Thursdays aren’t great days for me.”

  “We’re almost there,” I told her.

  She nodded before she said, “Distract me. What happens next?”

  “Tomorrow is the Dyzen da du Merte. The Day of the Dead,” I said. “I’ll be at my father’s monument in the cathedral, keeping vigil. The rest of the city will also be at grave sites, lighting candles. Altars placed with photos and treasured items of our deceased loved ones will be laid out at our homes, with a burning candle to signify the presence of the absent, until midnight when it is blown out. It’s one of our most honored traditions.”

  Emma breathed and said, “I think I’m gonna need your help making it up this mountain.”

  “Here. Lean into me.” I pulled her closer. Emma pushed her weight into me until I was more or less lifting her with one arm as we climbed. Again, I was astonished with how light she was. No wonder she was able to do jumps on the ice with ease.

  Emma shivered, and I said, “You cold?”

  “Yes. It got chilly fast. Though the cold doesn’t usually bother me,” she said.

  “Here. Take my jacket.” I slipped it off and put it around her shoulders. They seemed to sag under its weight. She seemed a little bit more comfortable, and my chest glowed.

  I was doing a very poor job at keeping Emma at a distance. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up, honestly. It was breaking me.

  When we reached the mountain’s summit, the crowd gathered around the High Priestess in a half circle. The music stopped, and all was silent. We stood respectfully to take in the sound of the wind whistling, the owls calling, and the leaves rustling in the trees.

  The High Priestess raised her staff, and the Arcanea around us took a collective breath to blow the candles out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emma

  The festival was absolutely beautiful. The ceremony afterward had been one of the most incredible moments of my life. And I’d experienced it all with Ethan by my side.

  After it was over, I felt inspired. While most of the citizens of Malovia were praying at grave sites on the Day of the Dead, I went to the bookstore and purchased a leather journal. I started writing down all the things in my past that I wanted to let go, and the goals I wanted to focus on in the future.

  The theme of renewal and rebirth around this time of year motivated me. I didn’t have anyone to mourn— no one I was close to in my life had died— but I still wanted to take part in the holiday.

  By the time I was done writing, my list was pretty long. I had a lot of things on it— like forgiving my mom for lying to me, and to change my perspective on my diagnosis— to learn what my new body would teach me, instead of mourning what I never really had in the first place.

  Ethan would be so excited. He’d be thrilled that I was getting into my heritage.

  After a few moments, I tapped my chin with my quill and added another note.

  Discover the identity of the Phantom.

  What the old woman had said in the cathedral spoke to me. You could never have enough time with the one you loved. If the hag was right, I only had four years or less left to live, and I didn’t even know my mate’s name. I needed to spend every moment I could with him, before the end— if the end was coming soon, that was.

  My illness had changed me, that was for sure. Although it wasn’t exactly terminal, it was, more than likely, life-limiting. Unlike most people, I had a pretty good idea how I was going to die… if my disease got to me, anyhow. I’d catch a virus I couldn’t get over, or my lungs or liver would fail, or I’d get a cancer that wasn’t curable. Those were the most likely ways.

  Or I could die in a random accident or something. Who knew? It was weird, but all this talk of death hadn’t depressed me— it just made me want to go out and live more. It was kind of morbid, but it made me… excited.

  I’d seen my illness as a curse, but it was literally more of a blessing. It was teaching me how to live every moment. I needed to do more than just meaninglessly exist. And honestly, that was so much worse… to be fine physically, but to live a life that had no purpose. That was a slow death that nobody wanted, but that most people experienced.

  I couldn’t live like that anymore. I didn’t have the time to waste. I had to make every moment count, and cherish each second like it was a gift. I wanted to be alive.

  I wanted to show Ethan what I’d
come up with, but I knew he was at his father’s tomb today and wouldn’t be back until later that evening. I spent my night alone (all my friends were out celebrating with their families) but on Sunday morning, I fully expected Ethan to show up to school.

  He wasn’t there. I figured he must’ve gone back to the palace or something to see his mom. He was a prince, after all, and class didn’t resume until Monday. I bet he had better things to do than be here.

  I was kinda bummed. At this point, I was reconsidering showing Ethan my list at all. Maybe he’d think it was dumb.

  I ditzed around all day in Dolinska by visiting the different shops and cafes. It was near dinnertime when I headed back to school, my leather journal tucked tightly against my side. By this point I’d decided not to show Ethan my new resolutions at all. It’d become something private and sacred. I wasn’t sure I wanted to share that with him. I didn’t know how he’d react, and I didn’t want him to think less of me. It was better to keep things like this to myself.

  I came down a hallway that had arches opening to the gardens and saw a peculiar sight. Lord Lucien was kneeling beside a round pool in one of the inner courtyards, staring down into its depths. He was in his human form, gazing at something at the bottom of the pool below, although what I couldn’t be sure. Was he looking at his reflection, or something deeper?

  I liked Lord Lucien. He was always fair, and he was a good teacher. He looked really… sad. It felt wrong to just walk by.

  “Hello, Professor,” I said. He rose to his feet when he saw me. “Are you all right?”

  Lucien forced a grin. “Yes. I am quite fine, Emma. All Arcanea are melancholy this time of year, after all.”

  “Have you lost someone that you had to honor on the Day of the Dead?” I asked.

  He gave me a sad smile. “All the people I grieve are still alive, I’m sorry to say.”

  He gestured to a stone bench near the pond. I sat down on it, and he followed my lead, swooping his cloak behind him. The birds were chirping in a pine tree above us, and I caught a whiff of the last dying flowers of fall lying on the edge of the pond. That golden sunlight that was always so characteristic of Malovia reflected off the pool, making the water look yellow. The first snow had fallen last night, and it had stuck, coating the ground with patches of white.

  “You mean…” I thought for a moment. “You don’t speak to your loved ones anymore?”

  “In a way. I am not a very popular or beloved man, even within my own family,” he admitted.

  This made me wonder why. Lord Lucien was a badass, and he was really nice. Ethan highly respected him, and I did, too. What would make his family abandon him?

  “What about your parents? Are they still alive?” I asked. I hoped I wasn’t being invasive.

  But Lucien didn’t seem to mind. “My parents are still alive. We are… how do you say it… estranged,” he said. “I have not spoken to them for many years.”

  “What about your mate?” I blurted, before I hurried to apologize. “You don’t have to answer that. I’m being nosy. Sorry.”

  Lucien let out a laugh. “It’s all right. You’re merely curious. And sometimes, it’s nice to talk about these things. I haven’t spoken of what has happened in years.”

  “So… what did happen?” I dared to pry.

  “My mate rejected me long ago, when I was young,” Lucien said. “We were together for a few years before she decided she wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” I was gutted by the statement. I couldn’t imagine rejecting your mate— worse, being rejected by them. It was the worst fate that could ever be dealt to an Arcanea— worse even than death, to be cursed to wander the earth with a part of you missing forever.

  “It’s all right. It was her decision,” Lucien said. His voice had taken on a heavy tone that pained me to hear. “But I never did move on. Sometimes I wonder what she’s doing now. If she’s found anyone else.”

  Lucien clapped his hands on his knees. “Enough talk from an old fool. What have you got there?”

  “Oh?” His eyes were on my leather journal. I blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “Must be something. You seem keen on hiding it,” he teased.

  I made a face. “It’s… kind of my new resolution list. I don’t have anyone to grieve on the Day of the Dead, so I decided to use the holiday for reflection instead. It’s kind of stupid, huh?”

  “Not stupid at all,” Lucien said. “In fact, I think it very wise. Not enough of us are focused on self-improvement.”

  “I could use some self-improving,” I grumbled as I propped my elbow upon my knee. I leaned forward and put my chin in my hand. “I’m further behind than anyone at this school. I can’t use magic very well, and I can’t fly. I can’t even find my wings. I’m the worst sorceress ever.”

  “You’re far from the worst. I’ve had many students come through my classroom that don’t put in half as much effort. You’re quite the exception. I can tell you’re a hard worker.”

  “I passed out when trying to use telepathy. I’m the laughing stock of the school.”

  “That’s not unusual. Many students pass out when summoning Faction magic for the first time. I did,” Lucien said.

  “Really?” My eyes widened as I turned to look at him.

  He nodded. “Whacked my head on a desk when trying to communicate with another wolven a mile away. Still got the scar.”

  He parted his hair back and showed me. There was a thin pink line on the top of his temple. I started to feel a tiny bit better.

  I played with my journal. “I don’t know. I wish I could keep up with everyone else. I’m falling behind. I bet I don’t even have any fae blood. I’m some kind of fluke or something.”

  “Heads up.” I barely had time to raise my eyes before a large snowball hit me smack in the face.

  I squealed and leapt up. My leather journal fell to the ground. Chunks of snow fell off my cheeks as I wiped my eyes. Lucien had gotten to his feet. He had a snowball in hand, and was tossing it up and down playfully.

  “Well, come on.” Lucien raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to retaliate?”

  I stood there, open-mouthed. Was I really about to get in a snowball fight with my teacher?

  Lucien chucked the snowball he had at me, and I leapt to dodge it. Okay, that was it. This meant war.

  I stooped to the ground and scooped up a bunch of snow. I formed a ball before I chucked it at Lucien’s head. He ducked and sent another snowball sailing back, yelling, “You can do better than that!”

  I made two more snowballs and threw them. One missed, but another smacked him square in the chest. “Ha!” I shouted. “Caught you!”

  It didn’t deter him. Lucien grabbed a gigantic clump of snow in his large hands, hurried over and dropped it on my head. It slipped inside my clothes and ran down my back. I screamed at the cold, and Lucien laughed.

  “I’m gonna make you pay for that!” I took a handful of snow and tossed it in his face. Lucien blew snowflakes off his lips and shook his head free of the snow chunks. Before long, we were both running around the courtyard, tossing snowballs back and forth at each other and laughing.

  Lucien had cheated and had taken refuge behind a stone wall. I hurled snowballs at him as fast as I could make them, and they splattered in the places where he poked his head out to see. It should’ve been weird that I was having a snowball fight with my middle-aged teacher, but it wasn’t. It just felt like fun.

  Lucien came out from behind the wall. Now was my chance. “That’s it. You’re toast!”

  Without thinking about it, I raised my hand. Of their own accord, three snowballs formed on the ground, rising quickly into the air. I laughed as I pointed them at Lucien and prepared to fire.

  He gave a broad grin.

  “See,” Lucien said. “What did I tell you?”

  I stopped what I was doing. I realized with shock that I was levitating three snowballs off the ground, my arm wh
irled backward as if I was a pitcher, ready to toss them at Lucien in great succession.

  The minute I realized that I was actually using telepathy, the snowballs dropped out of the air and crushed on the ground. I tried again to form the snowballs and make them rise, but now that I realized I was doing magic, it was like my powers wouldn’t work. I scrunched up my face and concentrated, but nothing happened. It was as if my magic had decided to get up and walk away.

  “What the hell? I just did it!” I said.

  “You get in your own head, Emma,” Lucien said. “What you can do comes naturally, if you don’t think yourself out of it. You have the ability to do what any sorceress can, and so much more. Let it come when it will.”

  I took a deep breath. Lucien was right. “I guess I have a confidence problem,” I admitted.

  “As we all do.” Lucien strode forward and placed his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been watching you for awhile, and I know you have the ability. Once you become more self-confident, the magic will be easy. Give yourself some time. No accomplished sorceress was created in a day.”

  My shoulder was warm underneath his hand. I glowed with the praise. “Well… good to know someone here believes in me.”

  “I always will. I am your teacher— my job is to make sure you are ready to take on this world, whatever it may bring.” He shook my shoulder before letting his hand drop. “No matter how discouraged you may get, you must not give up. Just say the word, and I will be here to help you. With anything.”

  “Thanks, Professor.” I felt so much better than I did this morning. There was actually hope for me. Lucien thought that I could do this— survive as an Arcanea. And I’d prove to him I could. I didn’t want to let him down.

  No matter what, I wanted to make Lucien proud.