Chapter 1 - Owen
We have been at the manor for five days, and still we know nothing.
I look around the council chamber, disturbed by how deep the shadows are, and that my eyes aren’t keen enough to pierce them. The council sits around the table before me, all of them looking as weary as I feel.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work,” Faye says. “All we can do is try again.”
“We have done this ritual six times already!” Darla snaps. “And absolutely nothing has happened. Repeating the same actions and expecting a different result is a form of insanity, you know.”
“But we haven’t repeated the same actions,” Neville says. “We’ve changed it a little each time. We’re doing something wrong, and we just need to figure out what it is.”
“It worked for Rhys,” Rafe says. “We did it exactly the same, and it was an immediate match. I don’t know what else we can do.”
I sigh heavily. All my arguments have run out, and I’m completely done with suggestions—not that I had many of those in the first place. Part of me feels frantic, like I want to scream at them, but I simply don’t have the words, and the rest of me is wondering if we should be doing this at all.
None of us really knows how magic works. I’m still not convinced that this is the right thing to do. Magic is evil… isn’t it?
“We should not be engaging in this filthy enchantment, anyway,” Darla almost spits, echoing my thoughts. “It’s beneath us.”
“It is, so far, the only thing that’s ever worked,” Neville replies, his voice hard. “And you might want to consider the fact that your attitude could be what’s getting in the way.”
Darla glares at him, and Neville glares right back. The strength suddenly goes out of me, and I almost stagger to the table to take a seat and put my head in my hands.
“Are you alright, Owen?” Sylvie asks.
I nod but don’t raise my head. “I’m tired,” I mutter. “And my head aches, worse every second. I know all of you feel it, too.”
The silence that greets my words is absolute. It’s as if no one in the room even breathes.
We truly don’t know where to go from here. The situation is nothing less than horrific.
In the months that followed Sadie’s spell, Rhys’s pack improved and fully regained their health. We were all happy for them at first, but it quickly became obvious that the magic had not extended to the rest of us.
I still am happy for them, but how can I appreciate their recovery when my own people are dying?
I look up around the table, see the elders looking drawn and sick. All of them have incredibly pale faces with dark circles under their eyes.
Faye and Rafe, members of Silver Valley, look somewhat better than the others, but unlike the rest of their pack, they have not healed completely.
“We have to do something soon,” Thorne says. “I can feel my own vitality waning, and I’m becoming truly afraid of what will happen if we can’t stop the spread of this disease.”
“Curse,” a loud, strong voice rings through the room, and all of us turn at once to see Sadie entering from the corridor.
As she strides towards us, I’m struck by her presence and power. The meek, hesitant girl is gone, replaced by a warrior queen. With her head held high, she crosses the room with long, firm strides, her gown rippling around her and giving the impression she can cleave apart the bad vibes in the room with the power of her will.
She most likely can. I’m not imagining it.
“What?” Darla growls.
Sadie tilts her head to her, smiling. “Curse,” Sadie says, clearly. “It isn’t a disease, it’s a curse, and until you start understanding how this works, you’ll continue to suffer.”
“Didn’t you break the curse?” Thorne asks.
“For myself and Rhys, yes,” she answers. “But I never said it would fix the entire problem. The other alphas need their mates, too.”
“We have tried,” Faye says. “We have attempted the ritual exactly as we did it for you, but it isn’t working.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Sadie replies, smiling. “Give me the scroll.”
