The Wolf’s green eyes don’t leave Aerin. Aerin smiles at him, placing a hand over Malice’s fist.
“If you give me the answers I am looking for, I’d be happy to return the favor. Though my travels to Zeneith are fewer than I’d like, I’m sure I will return at some point for you to call upon it,” Aerin concedes, sipping her tea.
Victory flickers in Soren’s eyes as he carefully takes another sip. “Well then, Miss Tolvare, what would you like to know?”
“Tell me about Wolf magic, how it works, how it’s shared,” Aerin asks, settling back in her chair. Malice does the same, folding his arms over his chest, disgruntled.
Soren looks out the window behind Aerin. Over her shoulder Aerin can see the other two Wolves laying down in the clearing.
“Wolf magic is different from how I understand Fae magic. It is a well of shared magic, controlled primarily by the Alpha but the magic itselfisthe pack. Whereas Fae magic is imbued in you, you are the magic, the Pack magic is separate from us, and it graces us with the ability to use it.”
Aerin brings her gaze back to the Alpha in front of her. His explanation sits right with her. Looking back, it does feel that way. As if the golden magic that swirled above her headduring the fight was nothersbut rather something given to her. Separate from her, possessing its own kind of will. Since the fight she hardly ever feels like she can reach that magic, let alone understand it.
“The magic has a mind of its own, and it follows rules that cannot be broken by will alone,” Soren continues.
“What kind of rules?” Aerin asks.
“Some of them are unknown to even me,” Soren explains, “But some are well known and easy to follow. The most important thing to know is the magic chooses the Alpha, and the magic ensures the Alpha it wants persists. Now this isn’t to say Alphas cannot die, we are not immortal, but the magic prevents threats from within the pack. It protects the Alpha the same way it protects every member. The magic will not allow senseless or selfish deaths of Wolves.” Aerin opens her mouth to ask another question, but Soren continues, “And even with a loss, the Pack magic will always persist. There have always been nine Wolf packs, there will always be nine Wolf packs.”
“There has never been a tenth? There has never been a pack established without the loss of another Alpha?” Malice cuts in, asking a question that is too thinly veiled, but one Aerin has all the same.
“No. Alphas are born or made. When an Alpha is born within a pack it’s felt immediately. As they come of age they strengthen, and the existing Alpha weakens. There is no altering the path of the magic from the old Alpha to the new one. Eventually the old Alpha will lose all control of the magic, and the new one will take over. If an Alpha is made, it’s from the magic moving onto a new a bloodline, a new Wolf, after a previous Alpha dies. Sometimes the entire pack dies. Other times the remaining Wolves have to find a place in a new pack, usually within a week. It’s all the will of the magic, there is no controlling it,” Soren explains.
“And there are nine known Alphas? Right now?” Malice asks, his attempt at simple curiosity futile. Aerin shoots him a look while Soren’s attention is on refilling his teacup.
“No,” Soren says, “Currently there are only eight known Alphas. Years ago, an Alpha died at the hands of the Hale King.” Soren bristles. “We are still waiting for her magic to reappear.”
“Why hasn’t it?” Malice asks. Aerin all but kicks him under the table.
“Our best guess it that the magic is still waiting for the right Alpha to be born,” Soren says, ripping a chunk of pastry and popping it into his mouth.
“And that magic couldn’t go to… a non-Wolf? I mean if it’s just floating around out there, who is to say King Hale doesn’t have it?” Aerin asks closely.
Soren shakes his head no.
“Impossible,” he states, “Pack magic would never bow to a pure-blooded Fae.” He hums into his cup of tea, seeming to consider something. “Though, it would be possible if he somehow had a half-blood.”
“A half-blooded Wolf?” Aerin hopes Soren doesn’t pick up on the way her heartbeat has increased.
“There have been some, over time. Wolves who sired with full-magic creatures. It’s all legend of course, from the time of Old.” Soren shrugs, as if sharing a fable and not uncovering the truth of Aerin’s entire existence.
“See now that is interesting,” Aerin plays, “I love the stories of Old.”
Soren nods, still pondering. Perhaps stuck on the idea of a half-blood Alpha in the clutches of Vitus Hale.
“There are old legends of half-bloods with unusual magic. Powerful Alphas,” he murmurs. His eyes train on Aerin once more, examining her closely for a moment, but then he shrugs. “But those are just legend. I usually don’t believe in anythingunless I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” He glances at Malice. “Like Dragons.” Soren laughs, a lightness returning to his features, any troubling thoughts put to rest.
“Are there any other rules about the Pack magic?” Aerin asks him.
“Just as the will of the magic controls the Alpha, the will of the Alpha controls the pack. This can be as strict or as loose as the Alpha prefers. This…” he gestures to his body “Is how I choose to appear, and with my control of the Pack magic I can choose how my pack members appear, whether it be their Wolf form or their Fae-like forms. It is ultimate control.” Soren seems to shake his head from a thought, coming back more serious than he was moments ago.
“But the magic is a well that has an end, and it must be distributed amongst the members, enough to keep them healthy, and alive.” Aerin holds her tongue about the Pack magic’s idea of healthy, if how they found Emrys is any indication. “In general, the larger the Wolf, the more magic it takes from the well, which is why in the South the Wolves are smaller. Larger packs mean less magic per individual.” He seems happy to divulge this little nugget of information that Aerin tucks away in the back of her mind, for her inevitable pursuit of Elara’s destruction to avenge Emrys.
“That being said, the pack must be formed of three, no less.” Aerin’s eyebrows jump in surprise despite her attempt at controlling her features. This is new.
“Three?” Malice echoes Aerin’s shock.
Soren nods, looking out the window again. “The magic won’t stay with an Alpha without three. It will give you time, and practically force it on you.” He pauses and smiles. “When my magic came to me, I easily took Greta from our original pack, but I got this itch over time. This… well it felt irrational. I met Ash at an Alpha meeting. He was a second to the Western Alpha,and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Day and night, despite my best efforts. It was driving me mad. I didn’t realize until after that it was the Pack magic working its will on me. Despite the risk, I fought a Western Alpha for Ash, and I won. Only once our pack was three did I feel the magic settle, did I feel myself settle.” Soren smiles with a sense of nostalgia, as if he just shared a sweet love story. And perhaps he did, but the effect flies right over Aerin’s head.
