“So, what you are saying is that I need not reveal my life’s story to you in words? You know it all, everything about me already?”
Sabina rested her temple against his cheek. “Not everything,” she admitted. “I withdrew from your memories when…” she hesitated, choosing her words. “There are some stories I believe best shared by the one whom has experienced them.”
Silence fell between them.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Kearn asked quietly. “You saw what I did.”
Sabine intertwined her fingers with his, leaning into him. “What was her name?” she asked gently. “And who was she?”
“I have not spoken of her in more than three centuries,” he began. “Those are old wounds.” Moments passed as the two of them watched the dark forest around them, the way the dappled moonlight filtered through the trees and cast strange, shifting shadows in every direction. Sabine waited patiently. Kearn would tell her in his own time, when he was ready.
“Are you curious to know how I came to be in the Black Forest this night?” she asked, tactfully changing the topic of discussion.
“I am,” Kearn answered. “Travellers and woodsmen are common enough in these parts, especially during the warmer seasons; but a young, pretty thing like yourself? Out in the wilds on the Autumnal Equinox? Never. Why were you walking alone, unescorted in such a perilous place?”
“I was leaving my coven. Or perhaps it is more truthful to say, escaping from my coven,” she answered.
“Escaping?” said Kearn, his posture stiffening.
Sabine smiled internally, drawing great comfort from Kearn’s immediate protective response. “I am an abomination to witch kind in the eyes of the purists,” she said. “Half-breeds are considered vile things. Most that come into being are half mortal. My particular breed of hybrid had never before been seen, or imagined by my people, and was reviled even more vehemently. Before I was even born, the coven attempted to drown my mother for her dalliance with a vampyre, and for choosing to continue to carry his spawn. They offered her the Red Tea many times, but she refused. She would not end my life.”
“Wait—” Kearn interrupted. “You said the coven attempted to drown your mother, and yet you’re still here to speak of it... What, or who intervened?”
“I did.”
Kearn’s eyes widened and his brow furrowed deeply. “You?”
“I burned the ring-leader of that particular incident, alive, from within the womb. No one tried to harm my mother after that…”
Kearn blinked, clearly lost for words.
Sabine smiled ruefully. “Witchfire is magically conjured fire. It is not elemental, and its flames are blue. Witches summon witchfire for spell and cauldron craft, as well as sacred ritual, as common fire does not suffice, is not clean. My unique heritage meant that when I saved my mother, and in turn, myself, my witchfire burned crimson, not orange—but blood red. Its like had never been seen, at least, not by my coven. They called it bloodfire, to separate my dark, tainted gift from their own.
“For all the years of my life, my mother was ill-treated, and I knew nothing but torment and ridicule. My mother wanted to leave, to shield me from their cruelty, but she could not. She was Oathbound to the coven’s High Priestess.”
“And this is why you have fled?” Kearn pressed. “Their ill treatment? The threat against your lives?”
“Life,” Sabine corrected sadly. “Someone hexed my mother, though I know not whom; and I could not cure her. She died too young, and in a great deal of pain. When she passed, I knew my time was up. Without her, there would be no grace, no further protection. And I am yet to learn the true measure of my gifts. So I fled under the cover of darkness during my mother’s burial. I feared that if I did not take the chance, there may not come another.”
Kearn crushed her into his arms, burying his face in her soft hair, against the nape of her neck. “I am sorry for your loss, my love,” he whispered.
Sabine took a deep breath and sighed. “Thank you,” she said, revelling in the strength and warmth of his strong arms. “I haven’t yet had time to grieve. I haven’t allowed myself to. I am afraid of what will be unleashed when I do. Emotions are powerful, and intent is old magic. I do not wish to cause unnecessary harm to others, and I cannot be sure that I won’t. If I let go, if I give into the suffering and the hurt in my soul…” Sabine shivered visibly. “I’ve just been focusing on survival…” the young dhampir trailed off.
Kearn turned her to face him, intensity in his eyes. “You have me, now, Sabine. I cannot replace that which you have lost, but know that you are not alone. You never will be, not ever again. I promise,” he said.
Sabine pressed her lips to his and smiled sadly. “I believe you, my love, and you have me. Always.”
“I would like to make you a second promise, Sabine. If you ask it of me, I—we,” he corrected. “The pack will avenge your mother, and seek vengeance on all those who hurt you. We will be your weapons of justice.”
Sabine’s breath caught in her throat. No sooner had the offer tumbled from his lips, than the decision had been made. I will have my revenge. I will destroy them, with bloodfire, fang, and claw. And from the ashes of my old life I will rebuild, twice as strong, a legacy of my own.
“My queen?”
Sabine’s face lit up, a dark gleam in her golden eyes. “I will have vengeance,” she answered. “For my mother, for myself, and for our children to come. I will not have them endangered simply for being born different, for being unique. I would protect them from all that I endured, and more.”
Kearn squeezed her tight, returning her wicked grin of delight. “It would be our honour,” he said.
Returning his affection, she pulled back gently. “I would ask one more thing of you, my wolf.”
“Anything.”
“I must know. Who was the golden-haired beauty from your past? I know you loved her, and I saw what happened that night, but there was something I can’t quite put into words; something special between you. It was touching.”
Kearn nodded. “We are mated,” he began. “And you have shared your secrets with me. I would not withhold mine from you.” Kearn rose to his feet, taking Sabine by the hands, he brought her up with him. “Walk with me,” he said, leading her through the forest. Sabine walked by his side in silence, simply admiring the dark beauty of what was to be her new home, her new world.
“Her name was Elfreya, and I had known her from a young age. She was one of the Ljósálfar, and a princess of the Bright Court. And I was one of the Dökkálfar, a prince of the Shadow Court. We grew up together during a rare time of peace between our peoples. We were always firm friends and spent countless seasons in each other’s company. She grew to be a beautiful elf, the mirror image of her mother, and was beloved by all her kin. Over time, our familiarity and friendship grew into something more. We were to be handfasted, and our people united for the first time in our long history. It was to be a joyous occasion.”
Kearn fell quiet for a time and together they wound their way through the ancient firs, and oaks, brushing aside tall, verdant bracken as they went. Plucking a stunning night-blooming orchid from the loamy earth, he gifted it to her. Sabine admired the flower’s dark radiance and smiled.
“Thank you.”
Collecting himself once more, Kearn continued. “The night before we were to be formally joined, we snuck out for a last night of passion. We wanted only to enjoy a romantic night, alone, beneath the light of the Full Moon.”
Sabine watched as Kearn’s throat tensed, and he swallowed hard.
“Such fools we were,” he muttered. “If only we hadn’t ventured out.”
“You could not have known that you were bespelled,” said Sabine.
“Bespelled?”
“Yes. There was potent magic present that night. I felt its taint in the memory, even after all this time. You were cursed, Kearn. The violence? That wasn’t you. I felt your love for Elfreya as surely as I felt the magic us
ed against you. My guess is that someone wanted to ensure that you were never bonded. Can you think of anyone who would want such a thing?”
“The courts forever at war? There are those on both sides who’d desire to maintain its eternal divide.”
Sabine stopped him and reached up to touch his face. “You can’t continue to blame yourself, Kearn. There is more to this foul play than we know. The truth remains to be unearthed…but it’s been so long. It’s past time you let her memory rest and forgive yourself for your part in her passing. As you swore to me, I too promise that you will have your vengeance. I will help you discover what took place that fateful night, and we will find those responsible, so that you can finally have peace.”
Kearn sighed. “You have a beautiful heart, Sabine. Thank you… But can you still love a beast, knowing what I am capable of?” he asked.
“I love you no less for having such knowledge,” said Sabine. “If anything at all, it has only served to grow my feelings. You have been through so much, lived such tragedy, and yet you have become a fine elf. Though darkness shrouds you, there is light within. I know this to be true. Life is neither black nor white. We are all conflicted and trying to find balance. I feel your struggle, but whatever you are—wolf king, or exiled Dökkálfar prince—you are worthy of love, life, and your own vision of happiness.”
Kearn relaxed into her hand, a broken smile upon his lips.
“Even had you known, you could not have controlled it, my love. The curse was wild magic, violent and strong. Without a witch or someone else to counteract the malice and intent, it could have even manifested during the ceremony itself, in front of one and all. Let the past rest for now and look to our destiny.”
“Thank you,” said Kearn earnestly. “I feel as if a burden has already begun to lift from my shoulders. I have been carrying the weight of that horror for so long that I had forgotten what it feels like to be free of it.”
“Healing takes time, my love, but it will come, I promise,” said Sabine gently.
Her lone wolf’s body tensed suddenly, alerting Sabine to the presence of an unseen threat. Looking down, the crystal pendant resting between her breasts glowed fiercely. Danger was near.
Kearn’s keen eyes scanned the dark forest around them. Though they were not down wind, he had caught the scent of another male, several other males close by, in fact. He recognised them, and all too well. They were making no attempt at hiding their presence—clearly they intended to make an entrance.
“What is it?” Sabine asked, quiet tension in her voice.
“We have company,” he replied simply, regretfully withdrawing from her touch. “It’s not going to be a pleasant exchange,” he warned. “Much blood will be shed, hopefully theirs.” Turning, he placed himself between Sabine and the oncoming menace, shielding her with his body.
Sabine touched his back, leaning around him to peer into the dark.
Kearn stood tall, pride swelling within him at his new mate’s reaction. Even now, when faced with multiple enemies, she did not succumb to mortal fear. She carefully gauged their situation, assessing the threat, just as he was. She really is perfect, he thought.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” interrupted a masculine voice from the shadows.
“Dragor,” said Kearn evenly, squaring his shoulders.
Sabine watched from behind Kearn as an equally nude elf stepped forth from the darkness, flanked by several enormous grey and silver wolves. Her breath caught in her throat, though she did her best to conceal it. Already she could feel the wolves’ eyes upon her, already see them salivating. The one in mortal form sauntered into the moonlight, revealing himself more clearly. Cocksure and arrogant, though not in a way she found appealing, he obviously thought himself superior.
“You’ve found us supper, Lone Wolf,” Dragor drawled. “How thoughtful.”
“She is no one’s meal,” Kearn responded with a dangerous tone. “Leave us, and I will spare you the humiliation of being beat in the presence of your inferiors.”
Dragor laughed, looking to his pack. “Beat me? I’d like to see you try, Black One.”
Sabine felt her spine prickle with agitation and anger. How dare that upstart mock her mate? Stepping out of her newfound love’s shadow to stand by his side, she smirked. “I rather like Kearn’s chances,” she said, addressing them. “After all, he did not bring a small army to fight his battle for him. Are you so bold in their absence, I wonder?” Sabine watched as all trace of mirth fell away from Dragor’s face. She could see fury spark to life behind his eyes, like slumbering embers bursting to life with the wind’s howling kiss.
“How dare you address me, woman,” he spat. “You are but a vessel to be used, and a meal to be had, nothing more. I am Dragor, Alpha of the Black Forest Pack. I am not to be trifled with.”
Sabine smiled, her eyes narrowing in challenge. “You are no more dangerous than a domestic pup. Look at you, how grand you are, lording yourself over a woman, as if you are some gift to the realm. How brave!”
Quiet growls and rumblings rose up from the pack.
“Silence that bitch, Kearn, or I’ll do it myself,” Dragor threatened.
Kearn looked to Sabine and smirked. “I would not silence her, even if I could.”
“Then you choose to fight, rather than share a meal with your own kind? You would rather face me than end that wretched mortal’s life?”
Sabine made a face. “I am no mere mortal, and you’re stalling,” she observed. “Are you afraid of my Lone Wolf?”
“I fear nothing,” Dragor snarled.
“Then fight me, Usurper,” challenged Kearn. “Too long have you held sway over what is rightfully mine. You are a fool, and you are weak. You left Álfheim with me, only to betray me, and the pack deserves better.” Kearn stepped forward, shifting instantly to his wolf form.
The pack growled low, their hides bristling, but they remained as they were.
“So be it,” said Dragor. Moments later, he too transformed. His coat was like the majority of the packs’, grey like the murky shadows of the Dark Mountain, a prominent white blaze, like snow, upon his forehead. He was large, but not as muscular as her captivating black wolf. Kearn glanced at her sidelong, and she nodded in return. She had his back, of that he could be certain.
The wolves launched at one another almost simultaneously. They met, clashing mid-air, two otherworldly beasts locked in a duel for dominance and supremacy. Kearn and Dragor tore at one another, tufts of fur flying, and sprays of blood staining the golden autumn carpet of leaves. Sabine watched on with bated breath. This was Kearn’s fight. As long as the pack didn’t interfere, neither would she.
The fight progressed incredibly fast, their forms blurring in and out of vision. Being dhampir she could keep tally of their strikes with more ease than a mortal could ever hope to, but the sheer brutality of the struggle shocked even her. She knew with complete certainty that Dragor would sooner die than lose the pack. Like all those burdened by pride, his distorted sense of self-importance skewed his clarity of thought.
Kearn landed blow after blow, raking Dragor’s face with his monstrously large claws, creating a cross-hatched effect of bright red wounds across the Usurper’s once flawless face. Dragor snarled, unbridled rage gleaming in his eyes. With a series of rumbles, he did just as Sabine had predicted he would; he summoned forth the rest of the pack. He had no intention of enduring a fair fight. That alone spoke volumes to the young witch.
Kearn watched as the pack padded slowly forward, giving Dragor respite. Coward! He thought to himself with disgust. Before he could react further to the situation unravelling before him, the two wolves nearest to him erupted in blood red flame, the rank scent of burning fur and searing flesh filling the night air. The pair of wolves howled, thrashing back and forth. They dropped, rolling around frantically on the damp earth, but the enchanted fire would not be quenched, could not be, until Sabine willed it so.
Turning, he watched with awe an
d pride, as his little dhampir witch stood behind him, bleeding palms thrust forward, wearing a frightening look of intensity upon her beautiful face. Her eyes glowed crimson as she whispered a string of words foreign to his ear. The power of her magic was tangible, buffeting her midnight black hair as it swirled around her, answering to the summons of her unique blood.
With a pitiful, broken call to the moon, the wolves she had targeted succumbed to the flame that relentlessly consumed them. The pack howled in mourning, their individual voices becoming one. Heads bowed low, they backed up, fanning out to expose Dragor once more. Two of their brethren had suffered horrific fates, and he stood idly by, betraying no emotion.
Kearn smirked. They had lost faith in him. They would not fight for him, now. Not if he would not risk his own hide for them. How quickly the tides change, he thought. Kearn turned his back on the pack and padded over to stand by his mate. She lowered her bleeding hands, running her bloodied fingers through his thick black fur.
Sabine shivered as she felt the shift of dark magic beside her. Kearn stood by her side, an elf once more. Carefully masking her emotions, she took stock of her lover’s wounds. They were far more numerous, and looked infinitely worse on his elf flesh, with no fur to hide the damage. He was covered head to toe in blood—Dragor’s and his own, and now hers. He grasped her hand, his large fingers intertwining with hers.
“Brothers,” he began. “Will you continue to stand by this Beta, by this pathetic excuse for a leader? One whom would have you fight his battles for him, while he limps away in shame to save his own hide?”
Sabine smiled, a look of feral delight in her eyes. Kearn could not help but feel aroused by how well she handled herself, and how strong she appeared.
The pack communicated amongst themselves, their snarls and low growls breaking the otherwise deathly silence that hung over the Black Forest. Mere moments passed before they turned to Dragor as one, their eyes full, reflecting the orange glow of the Harvest Moon.
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