My tiny hand grips Mummy tightly, her palm enveloping mine as we approach the towering castle gates. I’ve never laid eyes on such grandeur before, and a sense of wonder washes over me. The sun glistens off the polished stone, beckoning us into its warm embrace. I never want to leave this magical place, a stark contrast to the damp, musty caves where Mummy and I have been taking shelter these past few nights. Those dismal hideaways could never replicate the radiant beauty and inviting warmth that seemed to emanate from the very walls of this enchanting castle. A flicker of hope ignites within me-perhaps Mummy will let me stay in this beautiful castle forever.
My reverie is abruptly shattered by a strangled gasp. “Your highness…” A man’s voice trembles with disbelief as his eyes fall upon Mummy. His ashen complexion betrays the shock coursing through his veins as if he’s witnessed a specter materialize before him. My brow furrows in confusion. Why are they looking at mummy like they’ve seen a ghost?
Mummy, however, remains unfazed by the man’s stunned expression. “Please take me to him,” she commands, her regal demeanor leaving no room for objection.
“O-Of course, right this way,” the man stammers, hastening to obey as he ushers us down a cavernous hallway.
As we approach an ornate door, the faint strains of music and lively chatter drift through the thick wood. The man pulls it open, and we step into a lavish ballroom teeming with finely dressed guests engaged in animated conversation, their laughter tinkling like wind chimes. The instant our disheveled figures cross the threshold, a hush descends upon the room. The band falls silent, and a collective gasp ripples through the crowd as every eye turns towards us.
I glance down at my mud-caked Hannah Montana t-shirt, suddenly acutely aware of how out of place we appear amidst such opulence. A flush of shame colors my cheeks as the weight of their judgmental stares bears down upon me. But then my gaze shifts to Mummy, her head held high with an unwavering poise that instantly banishes my self-consciousness. If she can face this scrutiny with such regal grace, then so can I.
“Father,” Mummy addresses a stern-faced man whose piercing glare seems to bore into our very souls. His eyes, a mirror of our own, burn with an intensity that causes me to shrink back instinctively. I wonder why he is looking at her with so much anger. Is it because she is dirty?
“I told you never to show your face here again,” the man snarls through gritted teeth, his body practically vibrating with a potent aura akin to Dad’s, yet amplified tenfold. Is Grandpapa an alpha, too? Mummy never speaks about her dad, so I don’t know much about him. I’m not even sure he is Grandpa. I’m guessing because she called him Father.
Mummy takes a step forward, her voice trembling yet resolute. “Father, please. I had no choice. We need your help.”
His eyes narrow further, if that’s even possible. “Help? After what you did? You dare ask for my help?”
I glance up at Mummy, seeing the pain etched in her features. Whatever history lies between them is heavy and filled with bitterness. I don’t understand it, but the tension is palpable.
“I’m not here for myself,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “I’m here for my child.”
His gaze shifts to me, and for a moment, the hardness in his eyes softens. “Your child?” he repeats as if the concept is foreign to him. He studies me, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind.
“Yes, Father,” she replies, her voice gaining strength. “Your grandchild.”
The word seems to hang in the air, heavy and significant. His posture stiffens, and he looks back at Mummy with a mixture of shock and something else-regret, perhaps?
“You call this ab…?” he begins, but Mom covers my ears, halting him in his tracks.
“Father!” she exclaims, looking at him, horrified by whatever he is about to say.
“What? Did you think I would accept her as my own?”
“Yes, because she’s yours,” Mummy replies, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and anger.
“No, she’s not,” he snarls, stepping closer, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that makes me shiver. “And I will never be.”
Mummy’s eyes widen with shock and pain. “But she is! How can you deny it?”
“I’m done having this conversation. Guards!” the man bellows, and two imposing figures materialize at his side with unsettling swiftness. “If I ever see her here again, I will have your heads. Take her out!”
The guards waste no time obeying, their rough hands clamping down on our arms with bruising force as they begin dragging us toward the exit.
“Please, Father, she’s innocent in all of this. Don’t punish her for my sins. We need your help…” I can hear the desperation bleeding into her voice, but her words seem to fall on deaf ears.
“Father, please. Please don’t do this!” Mummy’s anguished cries echo through the cavernous hall, but her pleas are met with stony silence as the man turns his back on us, his broad shoulders an impenetrable wall of rejection.
The hurt and anguish etched onto mummy’s face as we’re forcibly removed from the ballroom pierces my heart like a thousand needles. Her screams for help, for understanding, for mercy reverberate endlessly until the heavy doors slam shut, sealing us off from the warmth and grandeur we so briefly glimpsed.
“Forgive us, Your Highness,” one of the guards mutters gruffly as they escort us to the castle borders, his tone devoid of any sincerity.
The instant we cross the threshold, mummy’s legs buckle beneath her, and she crumples to the ground in a heap, her entire body wracked with heart-wrenching sobs. I throw my arms around her trembling form, my own tears spilling freely as I try in vain to soothe her anguish. “It’s okay, mummy. Someone else will help us,” I whisper, my small hands stroking her matted hair in a futile attempt to calm the storm raging within her.
“Who, my baby? Who?” she chokes out between ragged gasps. “Everyone is scared of the wrath of the dark witches, so who?” Her haunted eyes bore into mine, glistening with unshed tears that streak her ashen cheeks.
Mustering every ounce of courage I possess, I steel my resolve and declare with conviction, “Someone. You told me never to lose hope, so don’t lose hope now, mummy.”
As I gently wipe the tears from her face, her expression softens, a glimmer of joy flickering amidst the sorrow pooling in her eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such a perfect daughter,” she murmurs, cradling my face in her calloused palms.
A watery smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I lean in to press a tender kiss to her tear-stained cheek. “I love you, mummy,” I whisper fiercely, clinging to her as if my embrace alone could shield her from the cruelties of the world.
“I love you too, Aura,” she responds, her arms enveloping me in a protective cocoon as we reluctantly turn our backs on the castle and begin the solemn trek back into the forest, our hopes dashed but our bond unbroken.
As we venture deeper into the looming trees, the crunch of leaves underfoot shatters the heavy silence. Mummy whirls around, her body tensing as she pushes me behind her. “Who’s there?” she demands, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and defiance.
“We come in peace,” two cloaked figures emerge from the shadows, their hands raised in a placating gesture.
“What do you want?” Mummy’s tone is laced with suspicion as she regards the strangers warily.
“We are here to offer you the help you need,” the taller of the two responds, his voice carrying an almost soothing cadence.
Mummy’s brow furrows as she considers his words. “The help I need?”
The strangers nod in unison. “And what might that be, if I may ask?”
There’s a pregnant pause before the man replies, his words sending a tremor of trepidation through me. “Help with securing a future for Aura.”
Those are the last words I register before the world dissolves into inky blackness.
I jolt awake with a strangled gasp, my heart pounding as the fragmented memories assault my consciousness. Raking trembling fingers through my disheveled hair, I struggle to catch my breath, the weight of those long-buried recollections threatening to crush me beneath their intensity.
There’s no need to relive that fateful night – the anguish, the rejection, the desperation that drove mummy into the arms of those shadowy strangers. I remember it all with searing clarity. Swallowing hard, I turn towards Alex’ side of the bed, my hand instinctively reaching out to rouse him from slumber and share this burden.
But the sheets are empty, the indentation on the pillow already growing cold. Confusion furrows my brow as I clamber out of bed, my bare feet padding across the hardwood floor in search of him. “Alex? Where are you going?” I call out as I descend the stairs, catching sight of his retreating figure approaching the front door.
He pauses mid-stride, turning to face me with a grave expression. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, his tone laced with a solemnity that causes dread to pool in the pit of my stomach.
“I didn’t want to wake you, but something happened at the pack,” he continues, closing the distance between us in a few long strides.
A tremor of fear lances through me as our eyes meet, his gaze smoldering with an intensity that robs me of breath. “What?” I manage to choke out, bracing myself for the words I know are coming.
Alex exhales a weighted sigh, the sound seeming to reverberate through the stillness that’s descended upon us. “We were attacked.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins, and I freeze in place, clutching the banister for support as the world tilts violently on its axis. “By who?” The question tumbles from my lips in a breathless rasp, though I already know the answer.
“The dark witches,” Alex confirms, and those two words detonate like a bomb, shattering what little composure remains.
She came for me.
The realization ricochets through my mind with the force of a thousand sledgehammers, leaving devastation in its wake. My knees buckle, and I crumple against the stairs, my body numb to everything but the soul-scouring terror that consumes me from within.