Novels by Wisdom Efiok

Thorne had been to war, Thorne had been to the First Forest., but she had not been to school.Aspen had been in an egg since the First sleep. She had also not been to school.“We need normal,” Wellie said, holding Barky's leash. “Just one day of normal for them.”“Normal is a trap,” Valeria said. Putting away her iron knife because Aspen flinched at iron. “I’ll be parent contact,” Bronte said.He was wearing Eli’s shirt: Number 1 DAD with a tree and a wolf.Now he was going to a pack school parent meeting.“Worse than death,” he muttered.---Pack School: Under the God-TreePack School was built in the roots of the God-Tree. No iron. No walls. Moss desks. Living chalkboard that grew words.Teacher: Elder Willow-Root. 600 years old. Bark for skin. Had taught every werewolf pup for 400 years, but had never taught Thorne.“Pups, we have two new littermates,” Willow-Root said.Thorne stood. Barefoot. “I’m Thorne Thorne. I’m six. I’m Root. This is Aspen, seven, she’s After. She was egg.

Thorne did not understand what “UN” meant. She understood “meeting.” Meeting meant adults talking too long while sitting. It meant she had to be there because she was Thorne Thorne, daughter of Wellie and Bronte. Heir of Werewolf and God tree, and because her sister wanted to come.By 6:00 AM, Aspen had already learnt how to make beds. She made them grow. Thorne’s bed was now grass, with flowers and bees.“Pretty,” Thorne said.“Soft,” Aspen said proudly. Six year old, leaf wings buzzing.Downstairs, the pack house smelled like pack. Marcus was making coffee, Valeria was cleaning a gun she would not use because Aspen flinched at iron, Askelad was icing the windows because she was nervous, Eli was setting up a laptop, Bronte was trying to put shoes on two six year olds.“I don’t wear shoes,” Thorne said.“I don’t know shoes,” Aspen said.“You wear shoes because humans wear shoes and humans have a meeting, and humans have rules about feet,” Bronte said using his Werewolf Prince voice, m

The egg hatched at 3:14 AM.Not cracked. Not broken. Opened.Like a door.Like a choice.---3:13 AMBarky woke me up.Not barking. Not whining. Aging.He was in Thorne’s bed. Six-year-old Thorne. Six-year-old Barky. Puppy-Barky. He’d been puppy for 18 hours since I took Ending into me. Since I went from 34 to 55 in ten seconds and decided no further.Now he was old.Fur gray. Muzzle white. Bones creaking. 15 years in 15 seconds.“Wellington,” Eli hissed from the door. Tablet glowing. “The egg —”I was already moving.Gray hair. Lined hands. Ending in my veins. I could feel it now. Not hunger. Weight. Like holding a river. Like holding time. I could let go. I could age the Palace to dust. I could age Bronte to dust. I could age Thorne to —No.I chose.Always choose.The library was quiet.Rian’s tree stood over the egg. Roots wrapped around it. Protective. Terrified. Leaves spelling one word, over and over:NO. NO. NO. NO.The egg pulsed.Thump.The God-Tree outside groaned.Thump.T

Thorne turned six at 6:06 AM.The world didn’t end.Barky did.---6:05 AM“Bronte, you cannot cancel a birthday,” I said.“Watch me,” Bronte said.He was in the Palace kitchen. Human. Iron axe named Dad on the table. Surrounded by clocks. All stopped. At 6:05. He’d pulled the batteries. Cut the cords. Smashed one with the axe when it kept ticking anyway.“If she doesn’t turn six,” Bronte said, reasonable like a man arguing with physics, “then the prophecy doesn’t trigger. If the prophecy doesn’t trigger, the Last doesn’t wake. If the Last doesn’t wake —”“Daddy?”We froze.Thorne. In the doorway. Six years old.She’d grown overnight. Not height. Presence. Antlers were a full inch longer. Gold leaves in her hair. Eyes steady. She was wearing pajamas with wolves on them — Valeria’s gift — and Dad’s cardigan as a cape. It fit better now.She was six.The clocks started.All of them.6:06.Barky screamed.---The DreamIt wasn’t a sound.It was ending.Barky was on Thorne’s bed. Asleep.

The UN declared war on a puppy.It was on every screen. In every language. From every leader. UN Secretary-General. US President. Chinese Premier. Russian Federation. EU Council. All of them. One message.“The entity designated ‘Barky’ is a Class-X Extinction Event. The Wild Capital is harboring it. We request immediate surrender of the entity for neutralization. Failure to comply will be considered an act of war against humanity.”Barky was asleep.In Thorne’s lap. On the throne. Snoring. One stone paw twitching. Dreaming about squirrels. Or eons. Or ending. Hard to tell.“Rude,” Thorne said.She was five. She’d learned that word yesterday from Valeria, who’d learned it from Kaine, who’d learned it from losing 10 years to a puppy yawn. Thorne was using it a lot.“They didn’t even ask his name,” Thorne added.“They’re scared, baby,” I said.I was next to her. On the throne. Core stable. For now. Because Barky was calm. Because Thorne was holding him. Because balance was holding, and b

The UN declared war on a puppy.It was on every screen. In every language. From every leader. UN Secretary-General. US President. Chinese Premier. Russian Federation. EU Council. All of them. One message.“The entity designated ‘Barky’ is a Class-X Extinction Event. The Wild Capital is harboring it. We request immediate surrender of the entity for neutralization. Failure to comply will be considered an act of war against humanity.”Barky was asleep.In Thorne’s lap. On the throne. Snoring. One stone paw twitching. Dreaming about squirrels. Or eons. Or ending. Hard to tell.“Rude,” Thorne said.She was five. She’d learned that word yesterday from Valeria, who’d learned it from Kaine, who’d learned it from losing 10 years to a puppy yawn. Thorne was using it a lot.“They didn’t even ask his name,” Thorne added.“They’re scared, baby,” I said.I was next to her. On the throne. Core stable. For now. Because Barky was calm. Because Thorne was holding him. Because balance was holding, and b