***ALICE***
The cool breeze brushed against my face as Lancelot and I walked down the narrow pavement on our way to wherever he was taking me. People passed us on both sides—smiling, waving, giving me looks that weren't harsh or judging for once. Warm, welcoming. Their friendliness slipped into me slowly, seeping into my chest softly. For a brief moment, I actually felt… at peace. Like maybe I wasn't so out of place here after all.
Lancelot kept walking beside me, steady and calm, until we finally stopped in front of a massive old building. Its bricks were worn. Edges had cracks lined up throughout, and thick vines crawled up its sides like they'd been growing there for centuries.
A library.
Lancelot glanced at me with a small smile before pushing the heavy door open.
Inside, the smell of old paper and dust filled the air—wrapping around me immediately. At the entrance an old man sitting behind an old table—grey beard, wrinkled skin, glasses perched on his nose. He looked up as soon as we entered.
"Morning, Derrick," Lancelot said warmly.
Derrick nodded back with a faint grin. "You're early today. And with company." pulling down his glasses a bit.
I gave him a small smile before Lancelot gestured for me to follow. We walked deeper inside—the shelves getting dustier and the books getting thicker and older. The kind of place that felt heavy with ancient history.
Lancelot stopped at a wooden table and started pulling out a few massive books from the shelves nearby. Each one looked like it hadn't been touched in decades. When he dropped them onto the table, a huge puff of dust exploded in my face.
Some of it went straight into my nose.
I sneezed—loudly. Lancelot choked back a laugh.
"Sorry," he muttered, though his smirk said otherwise.
He flipped open one of the books. The pages rustled. Then he turned it around so I could see.
My breath caught.
On the page was a diagram—an illustration of a massive white wolf, surrounded by smaller wolves in a circle. The exact image from my dream.
Without even thinking, I snatched the book from his hands and drew it closer to my eye, as I studied the image carefully.
Words filled the page beneath the drawing. My eyes ran over them quickly—faster the more I read.
Only a few chosen wolves have ever witnessed the wolf spirit—púka. A spirit older than the packs themselves. One that reveals itself only to those destined to see through time.
I blinked slowly, reading the line again.
"See through time?" I murmured, raising a brow. Then, I remembered how I saw in flashes—what happened to my father and how he was captured.
The shock hit me late.
"So," I said, looking up at Lancelot with wide eyes, "I'm not just a wolf now—I'm also a seer?"
He tried to hold it in, but a laugh bursted out anyways.
"Don't tell anyone that," Lancelot said, shaking his head and patting my back slightly.
I shrugged and closed the book. "I don't exactly have anyone to tell."
We read through more books—some with drawings, others with faded ink, pages almost falling apart. Each one carried bits of information about púka. Its blessings. Its warnings. Its real purpose.
Eventually, we left the library. The sun was lower now, its warmth spreading across my face to my body..
As we walked, Lancelot tucked his hands into his pockets. "Starting tonight," he said, "You'll start training properly. How to control your abilities. How to shift without losing yourself."
I nodded slowly. My stomach twisted—half nervous, half excited.
But before I could answer—
A baseball came flying out of nowhere.
Fast.
Straight toward my face.
I barely had time to gasp before Lancelot's hand swung up, catching it an inch from my face. The speed, the closeness—the shock hit so hard my whole body froze.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
"That," Lancelot said calmly, throwing the ball back to a group of young boys on the pitch, "is the kind of control I'm talking about. If your senses were sharpened, catching something like this would've been easy."
Easy, he said.
I swallowed hard, brushing off my face.
We were already at my door when he stopped.
"I'll see you tonight," he murmured. Then he turned and walked away.
I stepped inside my room, shutting the door behind me. Silence stretched in the room—wrapping around me, heavy and still. My thoughts raced—púka, the dream, being chosen, training… everything.
I pressed my hand to my chest, breathing slowly.
For my father… I promised myself quietly.
I would get stronger.
No matter what it took.
I crashed into my bed—drifting into sleep alongside my thoughts.
****
Night came in no time—the moonlight spilling faintly into my room from the window.
Then, a knock.
"Who's there?" Voice drowsy as I struggled out of bed.
"It's me, Lance." The way he said it, made my skin tighten.
"Oh… okay." I muttered, darting towards the door.
I tilted the door open and I was met by his golden eyes, which glinted a bit in the moonlight.
"It's time," he said quietly.
My breath caught. Already?
I nodded—quickly. Then, turned and rushed inside. I grabbed the jacket hanging over the chair, threw it on, and hurried back out.
Lancelot waited in the hallway, calm as ever. When I stepped beside him, he simply turned and started walking. I followed.
The night air felt colder, brushing against my face and waking me fully. My heartbeat thudded steady and loud as we left the houses behind and stepped onto a lone path leading towards an open field.
Voices travelled through the air—young voices, laughing, talking. Then the field opened ahead.
Dozens of young wolves sat in a wide circle, listening to a tall man in the center. His tone was sharp, hands gesturing as he spoke. He noticed us immediately.
His eyes shifted from Lancelot to me, curiosity flickering before he returned his gaze to the group.
Lancelot leaned close to my ears—in whispers. "Go join them," he murmured, nodding toward the circle.
My stomach tightened, but I forced myself forward. Each step felt forced, as I lowered myself onto the grass.
Every head turned toward me.
I froze—swallowing hard, trying not to shrink under the attention.
Then the girl beside me bumped my arm lightly. Grey hair that glinted in the moonlight, warm eyes.
"Relax," she whispered, a faint smile curling from the corner of her lips. "They don't bite."
A small laugh escaped me. "Good."
"I'm Rita," she whispered, winking her left eye.
"Alice." I responded, tone low but firm.
We shared a quiet chuckle before pulling out focus back into the lecture.
The man spoke about instinct, balance, control—strength without losing yourself. I listened, but part of me drifted—to the wolf spirit, the dream, the flashes, my father. All of it.
Still… sitting here, surrounded by others like me, with Rita's bright mood beside me—it felt different. Lighter.
Maybe for the first time since everything changed… I didn't feel alone.
And something settled in my chest—a quiet, steady resolve.
Whatever this path was…
I would follow it. And make sure I rescue my father in the end.