During my time alone in my room, I try to create a spirit spear. Lying down on the floor, I close my eyes and try to imagine one. To imagine anything.
Although it has gotten easier to meditate, nothing happens even after hours of concentration. My eyes grow bloodshot and my body gets frenzied with anticipation. When is something finally going to happen? With every minute I am getting closer and closer to possible elimination by the council. No one has come to see me for two days, and the desperate nature of this whole situation is really starting to hit me. The h0rror of it at first was offset by the reappearance of Scotty, but now the fact that he’s a freakin’ man just adds more peculiarity to these circumstances. I have gotten sick of trying to figure this whole thing out. It’s either I develop my skills, or I die. Unless I get a really good lawyer or something.
I haven’t gotten any visions either, which is rather strange. I used to get them once every few days, but it has been almost a week since my last one. Only a few glimpses of this unknown world have skittered across my mind; most of dark forests, villages, and vast oceans. In all the scenes the same emotion appears—emptiness—which washes over the entire area like a flood. Not a single person is to be seen, not a sound to be heard. It leads me to wonder whether all of these glimpses and visions are just figments of my imagination, augmenting my deepest fears of becoming utterly alone.
For it is now a legitimate fear of mine, creeping upon me until it is impossible to ignore or avoid, making its timeless mark upon my form. Having met such cr@zy people, and having my life impacted in such a way really has affected me for the better or worse, depending on how I look at it. On one hand, I am now more vulnerable than I would like to be; I can now be hurt in ways that I couldn’t before. On the other hand, however, I have been introduced to this warm feeling that I almost didn’t know existed. It feels now like I am alive, and before like I wasn’t living a true life. It makes me laugh to think now that the werewolves have brought me to death, then back to life.
But obviously now I can’t fit in anywhere, which is why it is so important that I learn to create a spirit spear. I’m not a werewolf, Spier, or human being. I can heal the possessed but lack the basic abilities of any supernatural creature. I look the part, but I can’t assimilate into any of those societies at this point.
Taking a pen from the desk beside me, I sit down and stare at a blank piece of paper. Laughingly I remember an aphorism and modify it to describe my situation perfectly. “Jack of all races,” I whisper as I write, “master of none.” Honestly, the council could kill me just for the fact that I’m an oddity.
Once I think about it, that’s really all I ever was, even as a human. A laughingstock, caged in fear and criticism. But does being an oddity really warrant such chains?
I realize that I have been straying from the point, and try to focus on the matter at hand, which seems to be saving my sorry butt. Flipping over the page, I try to brainstorm ways to prove that I am not a werewolf and therefore undeserving of the punishments they wish to give. Any tests of strength would not work because the council would think I was merely holding back on my power. Demonstrations of my Spier abilities would clearly be impossible unless a possessed man or woman popped out of nowhere, which would be…
Hey, that’s not a half-bad idea. I write it down on my piece of paper and label it “Game Plan”. That’s really all the proof I have that’s in my favor, and though it’s a long-shot, its also a possibly redeeming move.
I settle on the floor, having put my piece of paper aside. Casting my eyes to the ceiling, I attempt to calm down and enter relaxation mode. As I predicted, it is pretty much impossible.
In spite of my nerves I eventually close my eyes, laying on the cold stone floor with my stomach to the ceiling. I take deep breaths, breathing in and out…
My heart jumps a million miles in the air as a key clicks in the lock. Oh crap. They’re here.
Please not now!
The door swings open to reveal two armed guards, both staring at my strange position on the floor. Blushing, I scramble to my feet.
“The council has summoned you,” the tall guard says, his brown hair covered by a strange hat made of metal. The other guard is short and stocky, with bright orange hair that lights up the entire room.
“I suppose I can’t refuse to go,” I laugh shakily, which reveals my inner nervousness as it escalates at a mile a minute. They shake their head in unison. I check my appearance in the mirror. I’m not dressed up or anything, but I feel that my clothes look half-way decent. And its not like I need makeup… which always makes me feel weird because I never looked at myself with satisfaction before my conversion.
I follow the tall guard out of the room, while the short one trails behind. With each step my heart thumps faster, getting louder and louder until it is the only thing I hear. The short guard, though remaining silent, touches my back once. Through that touch I can feel his laughter. I didn’t know my heart was that loud.
Oh well.
The tall guard leads me to these double doors that stretch almost twenty feet in height, inscribed with designs along the sides. Both of the guards stand on either side of me, swinging the doors open slowly. They look heavy; I wonder how they do it. Probably with their super strength that I lack.
The room is not as grandiose as I thought it was going to be, but it is impressive in an entirely different manner. Instead of shining with overindulgence and lavish sculptures and paintings, it reminds me somewhat of a fairy wonderland. Somewhat difficult to describe, the ceiling is made of leaves and vines and gigantic trees are all over the place. Small fountains are at the corners of the room, spilling into tiny ponds in which koi fish swim. Flowers are placed sporadically throughout the room and on top of a marble platform in the center is a pure white table and several elaborate chairs. There is no other furniture in the room.
Not like I imagined at all.
Seated at these chairs are stunningly handsome men and women, five in total. The only one I recognize is Ferrars, who is staring at me then looking away with a strange expression. As I approach them, I bow slightly, which causes them to stand in a display of respect. I don’t know what I did to deserve even this, considering that they were probably going to kill me.
“Good morning, Mona,” a deep voice erupts from the man closest to me. He has light chocolate skin and bright green eyes, dressed in a toga-like robe. “I am Markus.”
He lifts a hand to touch the regal woman beside him. “This is Gizelda, and next to her is Cyrus, Ulysses, and Ferrars.” Gizelda has olive skin and black hair, while Cyrus is exceptionally tall with pale skin and silver hair. Ulysses is slightly tanned with a long black ponytail, which contrasts with Ferrars’s light hair and skin.
“Good morning,” I reply, not knowing quite what to do. The short guard elbows me, and as I turn to look at him he makes a gesture with his hands. I mirror the gesture, which I realize was the one Markus made to me on my way in.
“Your conversion went splendidly well,” Gizelda comments, scanning my face and body, “you are quite beautiful.” Her statement feels almost like a cold assessment.
“Thank you… High One,” I choke as the guard elbows me again, whispering the words.
“Sit down,” Markus smiles, gesturing to a chair about ten feet from the white table. Cautiously, I travel over to it, checking for bombs or something like that before sitting in the chair.
“Her smell is simply magnificent,” Ulysses comments with a smile. Ferrars says nothing, almost squirming in his seat. The other four launch into a conversation about my looks and smell. Soon the whole conversation shifted to how I would be a good asset to headquarters, mostly as a female spy.
“She would be a good mate or servant to one of the nobles,” Markus notes, marking in a notepad in front of him. Ferrars looked at Markus urgently after he says this, all of the sudden invested in the conversation.
“Markus, she’s mated already,” he says, then suddenly stops and looks like he wants to cough what he said back into his throat. The other four completely stop and stare at him.
“And how would you know that?” Gizelda asks, raising an eyebrow. Ferrars says nothing in response.
“Mona, please show us your marking,” Ulysses requests, and they all turn to stare at me. Hesitantly I show them the mark near my neck. I had covered it with facial makeup earlier, so I rub it off quickly.
“Well, that eliminates those options,” Cyrus looks at the others, “we don’t really have much of a choice now. I’m guessing she is mated to someone from her pack. If we exile the pack like we originally planned, she will be torn apart due to her bond.”
Silence reigns in the room for a few seconds. Ulysses and Gizelda are nodding their heads in agreement. Pure dread enters me, shocking my entire body. They are going to terminate me.
“Show them your other marking, Mona,” Ferrars commands, looking almost as disturbed as I am. A collective gasp rises in the room, as all the attention once again rivets towards me.
I shakily raise the corner of my shirt, revealing the small marking near my hip. “Is that really a marking, Ulysses?” Cyrus asks, “you know I can’t see very well.”
“Oh, it is,” Ulysses remarks, staring hard at it. “Mona, when did you receive these marks? What talent are you?”
“I’m… not sure. I was not conscious for either,” I reply, “and I do not have a talent.”
“Surely you have a talent,” Markus says, “even if it is just developing, every werewolf has one.”
“She is a strange creature,” Gizelda smiles rather coldly, “she seems very confused and misguided. It would be best to terminate her, no matter how much of an asset she could potentially become.”
It is at this point that I begin to seriously panic.
“Please, High Ones, I am not a werewolf! You must believe me!” Tears slip like raindrops from my features, and I stand up.
They look at me for a few seconds. “She is obviously a very confused creature,” Gizelda repeats slowly.
“I promise, High Ones. I was never meant to have any characteristics of a werewolf, I-”
“Bring in the rest of her pack,” Gizelda orders, “maybe she will stop spouting nonsense if she sees them.” The doors open again and one by one each member of the pack are led in. Danae is not among them, but it seems that they captured Ray. Yi is still nowhere to be found. I begin to cry even harder when I see Xavier’s stunningly beautiful features covered in dirt and grime. His reaction is similar to my own.
“Gizelda, Mona is not speaking nonsense.” The door bangs open again, and Griffin walks in. His hair glows along with his brown eyes, a smile on his features. He travels to my side, touching my shoulder once. “She is a Spier.”
“Griffin, act as befitting your status,” Cyrus sighs, “it is not your place to be defending her. It is obvious that she is a werewolf, and a unique one at that.”
“But is it?” he responds, “she does not have super strength, eyesight, or speed. She does not possess a talent as well, and was carried over to Headquarters because she couldn’t keep up. In addition, she also possesses an ability that we would regret terminating her for. She is an asset so valuable that throwing her away would be like throwing away one of you, even. Her pack has done nothing wrong.”
“What is it, Griffin?” Gizelda asks impatiently, “get to the point.”
“She can heal the possessed,” he says triumphantly, by which point the entire council is laughing with incredulity. I am even more puzzled. How did he know that? He must have questioned Xavier or something.
“Good one, Griffin,” Ferrars chuckles.
“Seriously, if you like her that much, you could have come up with something better than that,” Ulysses says.
“She really can!” Xavier pleads, breaking from the line he had been forced to stay in. He walks forward, and the others do as well. “We saw it several times.”
“Well, obviously you all “saw” it, considering that every one of you clearly has a great attachment to this woman,” Gizelda snaps, “excuse us if we don’t take your testimonies as evidence.”
“Please give me a chance,” I beg them, trying to smile through my tears, “I was a Seer since I was a little girl. Ray awakened me, but the conversion was going unsuccessfully so Xavier added some werewolf blood.”
“So you are saying you are both werewolf and Spier?” Gizelda asks dryly. Obviously she is taking command of the conversation.
“Yes, High One.” I nod my head.
“Okay, fine. Then you should be able to conjure a spirit spear for us.”
Oh no. I look at Xavier, then back at the council, fear in my eyes. “I am still developing that skill.” I lower my eyes.
“Then you have no proof,” Markus says calmly.
We stare at each other as the council continues to converse in loud tones. “I’m doomed,” I mouth to Xavier and the others. As he weakly smiles back, it is like a band-aid is ripped from an open sore, the pain swallowing me whole. It feels like everything shouldn’t end this way. Like I would leave something unfinished if I was terminated now. Whether that something is mending my broken relationship with Xavier or not, I can’t really tell.
“Council, do you really not remember her?” Griffin speaks up, interrupting the banter of the others. “It was only a few years ago that you considered her as a Candidate.”
All movement stops in the room, even time seeming to halt.
“Surely… you don’t mean that she is the one that died under your care,” Gizelda boomed.
“Yes, I was assigned to her. I was there when she died in a car crash. However, I was also there when she came back to life, with eyes of bright green, crying about a dark creature that turned her father’s eyes red.”
I am frozen to the spot. This is a pretty fanciful tale, though a shamefully convincing one, that he is spinning.
Cyrus pounds his hands on the table as he rises to his feet in indignation. “You can’t possibly tell us this now when over ten years ago you told us she was dead. You are lying to us.”
“I am not lying! As your oldest and faithful son, I am not lying to you. What I speak is utter truth. Mona is the only living Candidate for the prophecy, and if you terminate her and the pack, we will all be condemned as fools for the rest of eternity.”
Shock ripples through me as I realize he was the son that wasn’t suitable to be the successor to the throne. All because he’s a crossbreed.
“WHY did you lie to us, Griffin?” Ulysses thunders.
“Well, at the time, I thought that she deserved a life without us watching her every move. I observed that she had suffered great trauma at the hands of the Shifters, and you know that the Candidacy is affected by the Candidate’s mental health. I thought our presence as well as the trauma of losing her parents would affect her for the worse. What if she caught me morphing one day? We couldn’t hide from her forever. By that time I had already had some close calls. However, the most important reason why I had the courage to leave her at the orphanage and travel back to Headquarters was that I believed if she was truly the Candidate, she would somehow find her way back to us. And I was right.”
“Son, I did not raise you to so blatantly lie like this,” Cyrus says angrily.
“I am not lying,” Griffin responds, just as frustrated.
“Griffin, either you are lying to us now, or you lied to us then. Either way that is a disgraceful act that we do not condone. However, if you are lying now, the consequences will be far worse. I must have your absolute assurance that you believe this to be true,” Markus says calmly.
“I am not lying,” Griffin states with such conviction that I would have believed him if he said that the world was made of marshmallows and lollipops.
“We will take your words into account,” Gizelda responds, looking down at her paper. “However, we will need proof before we can be certain that Mona is a Candidate.”
“Griffin, is one of the marks on Mona yours?” Ferrars asked him. Griffin’s cool demeanor all but evaporates in seconds.
“Yes, I left a mark on her right before we parted ways,” he replies slowly. Gizelda raises her eyebrows.
I cast a glance over at Xavier to see how he is taking this. He is literally shaking with anger, and the others are looking at him with curiosity. Ray catches my eye and shrugs.
“Which all but elevates our need to gather more evidence in order to accept this as truth,” Gizelda says, “We still have not seen any of Mona’s abilities as of yet-”
Suddenly everyone’s nose perks up. I watch in confusion as several of the guards begin to morph. Griffin grabs my arm. “Stay by me,” he whispers, “I’ll protect you.”
“No, I’ll protect you,” Xavier shows up by my side. “Get lost, crossbreed,” he scathingly insults Griffin.
“Be nice,” I elbow him in the side, “he may have gotten us out of being killed.” No matter how much I am entertained by his jealousy, I feel like Griffin will be hurt if I don’t say anything.
Both of them squeeze my arm. “Would either of you tell me what is going on?”
“No other way to describe it except that it smells like puke mixed in with blood and terror in here,” Griffin wrinkles his nose, “yeah, pretty sure its a Shifter attack.”
“I didn’t know terr0r had a smell.” If I wrinkle my nose enough, I can smell the hint of pure nastiness.
“Well it does. And it’s getting closer,” he replies, “seems like an insane number of them too.”
“How did they get in?” Markus exclaims, “we have impenetrable walls around the Headquarters!” Of course, no one answers.
All of the werewolves are looking around anxiously. “Call a Spier!” Gizelda orders. Within seconds, three or four march in. All of them look like normal human beings, none particularly pretty or ugly.
Then the fear sets in.
Claws of icy coldness dig into my chest, chilling me to the bone. I can barely think as the fear chokes me, squeezing all the life out of my body. Griffin and Xavier’s presence don’t help at all… all I can feel is the sorrow, hurt and pain.
Then everything is black. To me, everything is dark and gloomy. I see glimpses of the empty forests, the lonesome castles, the large oceans, and everything begins to make sense. No wonder the world is empty.
They are all coming here.
The lights flash again as I see them—big and small, skinny and large—coming by the thousands into the room. I can’t breathe as they crowd the floor and walls, stuffing the room with their dark energy.
“I should have known this was going to happen,” I whisper softly.
“How, Mona, how?” Xavier asks, rubbing my hand. I saw the signs. I have no excuse. And now we are all going to die here. “How many are there, Mona?”
“Too many to count,” I choke, “they are everywhere… their red eyes are all staring at me.” I feel dizzy, and almost faint into Xavier’s arms. I cannot take their red eyes.
Gizelda looks at me, and I can feel her desperate gaze. The Shifters are vanishing into trees and fountains, making the water turn to lava and the leaves into burning coal.
The Spiers step forward and begin murmuring strange chants. To my amazed eyes, enormous spears are formed, which they then throw with incredible accuracy through dozens of Shifters. As the spear stab each one they disappear, simply ceasing to exist. However, so many more are taking their place that they seem impossible to fight all at once.
“Mona, move!” Griffin pushes me out of the way as a mass of burning, tangled vines fall where I used to stand. For some reason, the raining vines and leaves remind me of the hail that beat upon me on the day I tried to commit suicide. How can the werewolves fight against something like this? They can only kill the host of the Shifter, and if the Shifter chooses not to take a host until it is in a position that makes it impossible to kill, then there is no way to defeat them.
Maybe I have looking at this from the wrong angle this entire time. I have always thought, kill the Shifters. Create a spear, so you can kill the Shifters. It is all I have been told by the werewolves, and maybe for them there really is no other way. But I am different. An oddity. I mean, look at my crazy ability to basically extract the Shifter from the host.
I guess the real dilemma I should consider is that if I am able to heal the possessed, how would I heal the possessor from itself?
My whole line of thought snaps as I suddenly just get it. Understanding flows through my entire being… from where, I have no clue. Without a word I break away from Griffin and Xavier, both of them yelling after me in alarm.
I travel up to the platform, where the High Ones are standing. “Please,” I say once, and all five of them step off the platform. I am amazed at the power and authority laced within my voice.
I climb onto the chair, and from there onto the table. It is from this vantage point that I can see them all, thousands surrounding me. I can feel their emotions of fear and hurt, of confusion and terror. It threatens to swallow me whole, for it resembles the same pain that I have been shouldering all my life.
I am not like them. I do not only consist of pain and hurt, or even the desire for revenge. I am more.
I am different.
I start to open myself to the lost souls, projecting emotions of joy and hope upon them. I can see them shrink back in retaliation… just like I would in their position. I start to see myself in every one of them. How can I possibly heal these broken souls when I am not fully mended myself?
I start to think of the warmth within my heart, letting memories overwhelm me. Faces start to appear before me… my mother, father… and a familiar werewolf with bright blue hair. A bright emotion starts to leave me, an emotion that overpowers everything else. I smile in excitement. This is what the Shifters need. Love.
My emotions form wisps of air, which all come together to form a shape. Even I don’t know what it looks like because of its enormity. But I can feel it. I can sense the warmness surrounding me, filling the room with energy and light.
The Shifters stare it the shape, their red eyes boring into the light with its darkness. After a second, they all begin to enter the shape, boarding it as if they were all in line to enter a cruise and embark on a magical journey.
Amazement still overwhelms me as every last one of the Shifters enter the shape. I can feel it tugging at me, and I let go hesitantly. The shape sails away, and as it does I can see that it truly does resemble a boat, flying through the sky as if it is the ocean. It takes a few seconds after the boat disappears for me to realize what I had done.
I stumble off the table, completely drained. As I fall, I murmur, “I sent them, I sent them…”
Out of the darkness, I hear someone ask, “where did you send them?”
I answer with a weak smile on my face. “I sent them home.”
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