Sira's Pov
I was born, but why?
I had been plagued by the question for as long as I could remember, murmuring in my own thoughts when no one else was available to listen.
I had been selected by the Moon Goddess. But, why?
The mistake was me. The one who had no right to be there. A child born of a curse and a blessing, half werewolf, half witch. Reminding the pack of something they'd want to forget.
My mother used to remark, "Because you were meant to be."
What exactly did that mean, though?
I was never meant to be anything. This isn't where I should be.
The memories I had long buried deep within me began to pull on me late at night. I made an effort to forget them.
Those who caused the greatest pain.
When I first remembered her, I was quite young. Mom. Only bits of her face, her smile, and the way her voice used to murmur a gentle lullaby were familiar to me. But like fog dissipating in the morning light, those memories were vanishing. I could still hear her, though.
"No!"
She screamed. She had always screamed at it. As I descended farther into the mists of the past, it reverberated in my head. At that time, I was more than a youngster. It was me. She was hurting because of me.
I caught sight of her. My mother, shivering with agony as she lay on the packhouse's chilly stone floor. The magic raced through her, causing her to breathe in harsh breaths. It felt heavy and dense in the air as if something strange was taking place.
I sensed it within myself. My strength. The magic that had been waiting all along. I didn't know it wasn't only my witch's blood until then. The werewolf side of me was also involved.
"It's a mistake."
Even though his words were hazy and sounded far, I could now hear my father's voice. The leader of the pack. My dad. His voice was aloof and icy.
"She will pass away. It's a curse."
"She is alive."
The Elder's voice was aged, powerful, and commanding. I shivered every time I heard that voice, even as a child. The pack obeyed the voice's command.
"Although she will serve, she will live. She is not and never will be one of us. She's an Omega. She is nothing."
It was their decree. The pack's leaders, the Elders, had already rendered their decision. I would survive. However, I would never truly belong to the pack. I would take care of them. I would stay beneath them. I would never be anything.
It was me who was marked.
The recollection wavered, and then I found myself back in the present. I sat by the brook in the usual place, thinking by myself. The water passed steadily and peacefully, yet I felt as though a storm was building inside of me.
The power was the cause. It had always been there, waiting to be let out from deep within me. Awaiting the ideal opportunity. The time when I would have to recall. To recall who I was.
"What's causing my feelings?" I uttered a barely heard murmur into the night air.
I was powerless to resist. The strength. The magic. It seemed to be acting independently.
Every day it got stronger, and I was unable to stop it. At one point, I was afraid of it. The meaning frightened me.
At the time, I didn't comprehend it. I haven't yet. Then came the dreams, though. I had weird, perplexing nightmares while I was asleep.
I have dreams about a shadowy, dark person that is waiting for me. Observing me. Phoning me. My witch blood wasn't the only one. It was more than just my werewolf ancestry.
Something else was involved. Something more ancient. And it was stirring within me but I always felt afraid when I attempted to grasp it or comprehend it.
I sensed the uncertainty. The Elders' judgment—their decree—weighed heavily on me. Their denial. It was the only thing preventing me from moving forward.
It was the only thing preventing me from developing into the person I was supposed to be.
With my hands shaking as I touched the icy water, I muttered, "Perhaps I was never supposed to know."
"Perhaps it would be best to simply forget." But, that was not how it worked. There was always the magic.
Like a whisper in the back of my mind, a continuous hum.
"You can't hide from me."
I could hear the voice. It wasn't authentic. It isn't possible But, I heard it. Quite loud. My mother's voice wasn't that. My father didn't own it. I didn't know anyone.
Something else was involved. A darker one.
Then I briefly caught a glimpse of it.
Someone standing in the shadows in the distance. It had eyes that blazed in the night like coals, and it was tall and covered in darkness. The figure remained still. It merely observed me.
I went cold. My chest was thumping with my heart.
The air around me seemed to have thickened. As if the forest itself were holding its breath.
I was itching to run. However, my legs remained immobile. I was unable to take my eyes off the figure. I could feel the coolness of its presence deep within me as if it were luring me in and bringing me closer.
I sensed it when the stranger took a step forward.
The draw. Like a tidal wave, the magic surged through me. I had attempted to bury the power.
The force I was afraid of. It was stirring, straining against my barriers, threatening to escape.
The figure suddenly disappeared as swiftly as it had appeared. As though nothing had occurred, the woodland reverted to its serene, tranquil state. The water kept flowing. The air caused the leaves to rustle softly.
But I was aware that something had changed. I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer, even if I didn't know what it was.
The magic was getting more potent. And I had someone or something waiting for me. Awaiting for the next move I will make. With a dry throat, I swallowed hard.
"Why now?" I spoke to the night in a whisper.
I didn't know the solution. But, I was certain of one thing.
A shift was imminent.
I wasn't prepared for it either. Absolutely not.