The Longing of Lone Wolves

by Lana Pecherczyk

As the Prime spun, her wings dragged a crescent shape in the sand and left sparkling dust. She strode onward, not looking back to see if Clarke followed or not.

  Clarke turned to Rush. “She’s not used to people saying no to her, is she?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you think I should say no? Just to see what happens?”

  She was trying to weasel a smile out of Rush, but he only flattened his lips.

  “I wouldn’t advise it. She may only be an owl-shifter, and a Seelie, but she didn’t get to be Prime by falling there. Her talons are sharp.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Leaving the training fields behind, Clarke followed the Prime through the campus. With Rush at her side, she attempted to regroup and went over everything she had just learned. So the Prime had been aware of Clarke… She’d even used Clarke’s surname and mentioned they’d been waiting for her. Considering it wasn’t out of the ordinary to be psychic here, Clarke wondered what these people knew of her shameful past.

  Seeing her lover’s full-grown son transform into an actual wolf also took some getting used to. Four paws, claws, snarling teeth with blood dripping down his front. An involuntary shudder moved through her. Thaddeus had also been a wolf. These fae were part animal. Even those fae with the black leathery wings. Vampires, but clearly a little different from human mythology.

  Wringing her hands, she forced herself to emulate Rush’s ever watchful gaze, scanning for potential threats. But the architecture, gardens and citizens demanded attention. Small culverts of flowing turquoise water ran alongside every path. The trickling sound soothed her nerves like a spiritual retreat. Sizable buildings that reminded her of the Byzantine Cathedrals were to her left. Manicured lawns and fountains took up the space between smaller red-roofed buildings. Noticing the direction of her attention, Rush leaned over. “That’s the academy and Mage classrooms. All those fae you see wandering the grounds in blue robes are Mages.”

  “Right.” She nodded, then pointed to another set of close and cramped, one-story buildings. “And those?”

  “The general barracks where the Guardians sleep. You’ll recognize the Guardian uniform on most of those. The two big houses to the back are where the Cadres sleep. The Six are in the dark house. The Twelve are in the light—where the Guardians you saw today live.” He cleared his throat. “Where I used to live.”

  “And where is she taking us?”

  “Most likely to the temple for testing, or to her quarters nearby. It’s only another few minutes walk. She said we’ve been waiting for you, so I believe other preceptors and council members will also arrive.”

  Clarke was all out of questions. Her intuition hadn’t sparked in warning, so she kept following the Prime. It was a big campus, and the path weaved in and out of outbuildings, a mess hall, and a library. The occasional blue-robed female or male walked by and stared oddly but said nothing.

  A stone staircase rose up two levels from where Clarke stood at its base. At the top of the stairs, she saw a flat, red roof.

  The Prime stopped and eyed Clarke’s surroundings as though she were looking for something, or someone.

  The Prime narrowed her white-tipped lashes on Clarke. “Has he gone, or is your hold on your mana slipping?”

  “I don’t understand. You mean Rush?” She glanced at him standing next to her. “He’s right there. Can’t you see him anymore?”

  The Prime replied, “If he was visible earlier, but not now, your hold on your mana slipped. We can teach you to keep hold of the spell you wove to make Rush visible. First, you must prove to the others you are what we think you are.”

  “And what is that? You’ve told me nothing.”

  The Prime pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath before responding.

  “There have been Seers since the dawn of Elphyne who have predicted your arrival Clarke O’Leary. We have been waiting for you for a very long time. For some, too long, and they need a little convincing that you are who you say you are, and that the prophecies are real.”

  Prophecies?

  “I’m sorry,” Clarke said. “But—again—who, or what, do you think I am?”

  “Both the destroyer and the savior. The darkness and the light. Chaos and order. You, my dear, are the first Well-blessed human to exist. Only you can lead us to more of your kind.”

  The shiver started slight. It began as an icy finger trailing up Clarke’s spine, then a scrape, until it became a full drop in body temperature. Goosebumps broke out on her skin and she hugged herself.

  “I...” She didn’t know what to say. Hearing it laid out like that made it sound so important. So real. So dangerous. But what else had she been trying to do all this time? There was no going back. She came here to stop the Void from repeating what he did in her time.

  “Look,” she started, then paused, and tried to come up with a better way to say what she needed. But there was no sugar coating it. “Yes, I had an unfortunate hand in destroying the old world. I never intended it to happen. I admit to having a certain culpability. But I’m not a savior. I came here to tell you what I know about some bad people who may also have awoken from my time. I came to tell you, so you can help stop the evil man. I had a vision about him invading Elphyne for resources. Metals I know are used to make weapons. I’ll help you fight him. Do you understand?”

  The Prime stilled in a way that was more telling than if she’d revealed some sort of expressional twist of the features.

  “What I understand is that this is a lot for you to take in. You have been preserved in ice for a long time, yet the Well has deemed now is the time for your awakening. There is a reason you awoke. Events are in play. And we need your help. This world is vastly changed from yours, and you need training to understand your gifts.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “We know more than you think.”

  Clarke clenched her jaw. Helplessness was just a sliver away from her resolve. It was like her composure dangled at the base of a thin frayed thread, and one more tug would send her falling. She didn’t want this woman to think she was weak. She wasn’t. It was just… sometimes… she feared being taken advantage of. She needed to investigate these people, to assess them, and then to make an informed decision. They had done nothing to aid her at the moment.

  “I want you to lift Rush’s curse,” Clarke stated.

  The Prime’s gaze turned downcast. “We cannot lift his curse, I’m afraid.”

  “What?” Clarke sputtered. “You can. You put the curse on him. It wasn’t his fault.”

  “Clarke,” Rush intoned and then shook his head.

  But she wasn’t giving up. “In what world does it make sense for a good man to be punished because of a moment of oversight?”

  The Prime’s white brows rose. “You tell me, Clarke. What world do you know where a moment of oversight that causes devastating effects can go unpunished?”

  The damned female knew exactly how that comment would cut deep. It wasn’t Clarke who had paid the price. It was everyone else.

  The Prime’s poker face did nothing to convince Clarke of her integrity. She pointed at the Prime. “You’re lying.”

  She held out her hand as an offering. “Take it and ask me again if you must.”

  Clarke strode closer, gripped the woman’s warm, silken hand in hers and asked, “Tell me how to break Rush’s curse.”

  “The only way to break it is for his Well-blessed union to snap into place.”

  Clarke looked into the Prime’s large eyes and concentrated. Nothing came through her gift. The Prime spoke the truth. Clarke dropped her hand.

  “I refuse to believe that you people, who made the curse, have no other way of breaking it.”

  “I regret you feel that way, Clarke.”

  Rush said nothing. He was probably used to more disappointment, but she wasn’t. She would find a way, even if that meant scouring that extensive library she’d seen, talking to every single fae in this place, or fo
rcing someone to tell her. She would see Rush freed.

  “Now, if you don’t mind.” The Prime gestured up the steps. “The council have gathered and are waiting.”

  The Prime hiked her blue dress at the knees and slipped off her sandals. Giving Clarke’s boots a pointed look, she then added, “Please instruct your beau to do the same. I’m sure he hasn’t been away so long he’s forgotten proper temple etiquette.”

  Rush rolled his eyes and tugged his boots off. He laid them next to the Prime’s sandals. The moment he let go of them, the Prime looked down.

  “Ah. Now I can see them.”

  Clarke added her own shoes next to the pair. She was careful not to place it too close to the running water falling down the steps and disappearing into a grate.

  She followed the owl-shifter up the steps and couldn’t help the curl of her lip. She should feel better than this, but the knot of tension in her stomach wouldn’t leave. She’d thought these fae would help Rush, but it was sounding more like they would use her. And the sheer lack of empathy really grated on her.

  She glanced at Rush. Sometimes he acted as though he cared, other times she thought he acted without empathy—like when he’d brushed off the two fae stuck in the cages. Was it because he didn’t want to get involved in politics so he had closed that part of himself off? Anise had accused Caraway of the same thing.

  But maybe it had to do with years lived on this earth. Maybe the Prime was many years older than him. As usual, with the thought came the swell of rightness sitting in her chest. Yes, the Prime was old. Older than Rush.

  It had been two thousand years since Clarke’s time. That was a long time to live. One could get emotionally weary from living that long.

  They crested the top of the stairs and found a stone courtyard. Split into quadrants, each corner held a small colored pond with a pike coming out of the center. And in the middle of the courtyard was a larger pool, about two yards in diameter. The stone obelisk coming out of it had etchings similar in shape and size to Rush’s blue glyphs.

  Water dribbled down rain chains into the courtyard culverts, which then fed into the small ponds, which then fed into the streams running down the steps. It was all rather intricate, serene, and magical.

  Six figures emerged from the temple doors. Three of the figures wore the blue robes of Mages, two female and one male. The other three were Guardians Clarke recognized. The golden one the Prime had called Leaf stood with his arms folded and a stiff posture. Next to him stood a vampire with black leathery wings. His short brown hair looked cover model ready and matched his soulful eyes. Sensual yet commanding. As if to prove status, he snapped his wings closed, and then they disappeared. His smug smile revealed short fangs.

  The third Guardian was Cloud, the crow-shifter who had sparred with Thorne. The same jacket stretching across his shoulders looked extra wicked. Maybe it was because of the dark, oil slick tattoos gracing parts of his neck and hands, or maybe it was because the jacket was worn and cultivated, as though it had seen its fair share of torment, and dished out plenty. He stood leaning against the waist-high stone vase filled with pink blossoms, looking rather put out. She could almost feel his disgust roll onto her.

  If this Guardian was treated poorly in the human city, then Clarke didn’t blame him for having preconceived emotions towards her race. She may very well be the first human he’d associated with since.

  “Clarke,” the Prime started. “This is the Council of the Order of the Well.”

  “Try saying that five times real fast,” Clarke joked.

  It was the crow who snorted in amusement. The rest of them glared at Clarke.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. Temples weren’t made for jokes, but religion had never been her strong suit. And she was nervous. “I guess, nice to meet you all. I’m Clarke O’Leary.”

  “Where is Jasper?” Rush asked suddenly. He went to the lip of the courtyard and looked down at the view of the grounds. Fae still swarmed about.

  “Who’s Jasper?” she asked him.

  But one of the Mages answered. “Jasper has not been with us for a few years.”

  The Mage’s robe was stained with green and brown bits. Twigs and leaves were stuck in his streaky long hair. His fae race was indeterminate, but he reminded Clarke of a wizard. He was the first fae she’d seen with some wrinkles around his eyes.

  “He’s missing,” Leaf clarified.

  Rush turned back sharply and locked eyes on Leaf. “For how long?”

  “Wait. I’ll translate in a minute.” Clarke put up her finger to Rush. “Who is Jasper?”

  Rush didn’t answer. He began circling the room, scrutinizing the council members. They knew she’d spoken with him, but they couldn’t see him, so stood awkwardly awaiting Clarke’s signal that she’d received her answer. Rush began to poke and flick lint from their shoulders. He was clearly enjoying being invisible, so she didn’t try to make him seen.

  The Prime tugged on her ear lobe, irritated. “Enough. It’s time to have you tested, Clarke.”

  “She must be initiated first.” One of the female Mages stepped forward. Like the Prime, her skin was brown but her long curly hair was prismatic like a rainbow, as were her dormant dragonfly wings. Even her skin held a metallic sheen. “Anyone who steps into the sacred water must be initiated first.”

  “Dawn?” The Prime turned to the third and final fae Clarke hadn’t heard speak. This one was not only quiet but seemed a world away. A jade butterfly clip held her short hair back from her eyes. Short, stocky, and with curling horns coming out of her head, she reminded Clarke of the same ilk as one of Thaddeus’s hunters. Except where that one couldn’t pronounce his name correctly, this female looked wise beyond her years. There was a reason the Prime asked for her opinion.

  Dawn blinked and stared at the Prime. “Please repeat.”

  “Colt has suggested Clarke submit to the initiation ritual before she is tested. Your thoughts?”

  Dawn’s short fingers lifted to touch the butterfly clip and her eyes faded from blue to a glossy white. With a start, Clarke realized she was a Seer. The clip looked like a focusing tool.

  “She’s already been initiated.” Dawn released the pin.

  “Impossible.”

  “Can’t be.”

  More dissent rumbled through the council. The Prime lifted a casual palm. “Please explain, Dawn.”

  “Her time underground was served as exposure to the Well. There is no point to initiate her in the lake. She’s been in a permanent initiation ceremony for… millennia. You will see once we test her.”

  “Very well.” The Prime motioned to the center pool with the obelisk. “You may enter now.”

  “Like, step into it?” She looked to Rush for clarification, but he was peeking inside the robe pocket of the male Mage.

  Okay, then. She guessed she would just step into the pond. What was the worse that could happen?

  She padded over barefoot to the pool. The icy water looked about a foot deep, so she rolled up the hem of her pants and then stepped in. Shock-waves of shivers wracked her body. She raised a brow and looked at the Prime.

  “Now what?”

  “Now touch the obelisk.”

  Clarke found the stone warm. Within seconds of touching, her will was ripped from her. A zing sizzled up her arm and held her in place. A bright light exploded, blinding Clarke and everyone nearby. It was white, hot and celestial. It felt alive. Light and heat invaded her body, getting to know her in a way that she had yet to give permission. It burned her nerves raw. A voice came from a distance, almost like a whisper.

  “You can let go now.”

  She pulled away from the obelisk. The light dimmed. It took her a while for her eyes to adjust to the courtyard ambience. Even though swathed in daylight, the obelisk luminosity made the courtyard now seem dark.

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  Slowly her surroundings came into focus. Their expressions were no longer filled with disgust or thinl
y veiled wariness. Now they feared her.

  “What’s going on?”

  “How long were you touching the obelisk, Clarke?” the Prime asked.

  “A couple of seconds? Why?”

  The Prime looked around. “It is late afternoon. If you didn’t come out of your trance soon, your mate was readying to tear down the temple.”

  Clarke’s eyes gravitated to Rush. Standing to her right, with one foot in the pool, he had dark circles under his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I would ask you the same thing.”

  “He alludes to your extended period in stasis,” the Prime added. “And yes, I can see him, although he appears to be fading. The illumination you cast upon touching the obelisk was the light of truth. I imagine that once you test yourself for elemental affinities, you’ll be very heavily geared towards the spiritual energies. I dare say that one day you’ll be able to use truth as a weapon.”

  “Lady, you’re speaking in tongues to me.” Clarke rubbed her eyes again. The weight of the event was dragging her down. How could she have been standing there for so long... hours it had seemed. “What was the point of touching that thing?”

  She accepted Rush’s hand and stepped out of the pond. For a brief moment, everyone lost sight of her and she considered running away with Rush. But then he let go, and his curse pulled away from her, casting her into the light.

  “It proved what your capacity for holding mana is.”

  “And?”

  “And if you weren’t Well-blessed, you’d hardly trigger a glow.”

  “I made it go nuclear.” The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Why was it so bright?”

  “Because you are very strong in your gift. Perhaps the strongest we have ever encountered, even among the fae. You may be able to go days at full strength without having to replenish. Weeks. Months.”

  “At full strength. So not like how Rush is using the minimum to stay alive.”

  “That’s right. If you conserve your mana, you could perhaps last centuries.”

  “How is that fair?” Cloud snapped. No longer leaning against the stone vase, he was sitting reclined against it. “She’s human. The Well doesn’t reward greed. She must have stolen it.”