Chapter 01

Arla woke with a gurgled scream, gasping as her eyes darted manically. Her bedroom. Another dream. There were so many horrors that she witnessed that day, yet she couldn’t understand why it was the green-eyed witch who had kept visiting her in her dreams - nightmares - each night for the past two months.

The witch’s light green eyes had looked at her as though she knew something and saw something no one else could. She also couldn’t forget the way her skin had tingled, like goosebumps without the bumps.

She didn’t think the witch wanted to harm her. If she’d wanted to, she could have struck her down easily, but Arla never felt as though she were in danger. 

She had an overwhelming urge to seek her out, but knew a twelve-year-old girl would not get far on her own, and no sane witch would venture anywhere near this territory. Alpha Anton had made it clear that death was the only friend of a witch who found themself on the Apostle Ridge Pack’s territory.

“Mum, I’m going to school,” she shouted from the kitchen, packing the lunch she’d just made into her backpack. “I’ve made you some lunch, it’s in the fridge for later.” 

Arla knew the food would still be there, untouched, when she returned from school. Hearing no response, she walked past the lounge room where her mother was lying on the couch and through the front door, heading off to school.

Esther’s once sun-kissed skin now looked pale, emphasising the red puffiness that encircled her dark brown eyes, their sparkle long gone. Her once vibrant and striking ginger hair was now dull and sitting in a perpetually messy bun on her head. Her appearance was in perfect synchronicity with her unhappiness.

Arla missed her father - his warm smile, his kind emerald green eyes, his jokes that always made her laugh. But she missed her mother with a more intense level of pain. Her mother was still here with her, but she was no longer the same person. She supposed that Alpha Anton must be going through similar turmoil. After all, he lost his mate too. 

Alpha Anton had changed since the attack, and the entire pack had felt its effect. The Alpha had always been hot-headed and firm, but he was now angry and cruel. He ruled with complete control, making the rules and breaking them as he saw fit, and it left the pack members on edge. His loathing for witches seeped into the minds of the entire pack.

School was no reprieve for Arla. Natasha, the Alpha’s daughter, had been making her life hell and today was no exception. The class had taken great delight, sniggering and laughing as Natasha ridiculed and belittled her.

Adding salt to the wound, she’d had to listen to Natasha and Amaya, the daughter of the new Beta, talk about the upcoming visit from Alpha Lorenzo of the Southern Mountains Pack. He ran one of the largest werewolf packs in the south and it was a big deal for him to visit. The Alpha and Beta families would be attending the dinner, and Arla couldn’t help but feel jealous of the fact that it was now Amaya who got to go, rather than her.

“Oof.”

Arla felt a sharp pain in her back as she landed heavily on the dry dirt path with a thud.

“Watch where you’re going!” said Natasha, full of disgust as she looked at Arla.

Everybody grieves differently. This was Natasha’s way.

“You pushed me from behind, Natasha. I wasn’t in your way.”

“Who are you to talk to me like that?”

“I’m your best friend.”

“Not anymore. Your dad let my mother die.”

“My dad died trying to protect her!” Arla shouted.

“Well, he failed, didn’t he? He isn’t a Beta anymore, and neither are you. You’re nothing. A nobody. I’m the Alpha’s daughter, I don’t make friends with common trash.”

Arla felt a swirling sensation build in her gut. She had always felt it when she got upset or angry, but the moment she noticed it, it vanished again. That night in the forest, the witch had unraveled it even further. It now felt free. If only she knew what it was.

“Arla! Natasha!” shouted their teacher, Mrs Farrell, walking towards them. “The bell has gone. Go home Natasha, I’ll deal with Arla.” Natasha smiled smugly as she walked away.

“I saw her push you,” said Mrs Farrell, softening her voice as she put her arm around Arla. “I will talk to her father about her behaviour.”

“Please don’t!” begged Arla. “It will only make things worse.”

“Run along home, dear. Tell your mother I said hello,” she replied with a sigh.

Home sweet home, Arla thought bitterly. 

Her mother was asleep on the couch where she had left her that morning. She threw her backpack in her bedroom, then began tidying up and preparing dinner. Her mother’s untouched lunch was still in the fridge, just as she suspected it would be.

Angrily chopping carrots, her emotions began to get the best of her as she tried to make sense of the situation she now found herself in. She wished with all her might that things could go back to the way they were. Back when she had a dad, a mum, a best friend. Back when everyone she knew was happy.

“Arla, what’s wrong? Did something happen at school?” asked Esther from the doorway, jolting Arla from her thoughts.

“Why would you care, anyway?” she replied angrily, hastily wiping the tears from her face.

“Of course I care. I’m your mum, it’s my job to care.”

“You don’t, not really. All you do is pretend to care and then cry all the time when you think I can’t hear you. I just want things to go back to normal,” Arla shouted, shaking with pent up anger and frustration.

Arla’s words chipped away another tiny piece of Esther’s heart. She’d thought she was doing a better job at shielding Arla from her grief than she obviously was. Esther reached out to hug and comfort her. 

Arla was feeling the strange yet familiar swirling sensation of power in her gut. She didn’t want her mother’s comfort; she wanted to feel the anger and rage that she had been holding back since the death of her father. 

“No!” she shouted, as she pushed Esther away. 

It was too late by the time she noticed her hands glowing, as though they were holding a pure white ball of light. As she made contact, her mother flew backwards, her back crashing into the door frame before she fell to the kitchen floor.

“Mum!” she shouted, rushing to her mother’s side. They both stared at each other, open-mouthed and in absolute shock.

"I’m ok, sweetie,” reassured Esther.

“Wh-what was that?” Arla squeaked, no longer shaking with rage but in fear.

“No one can know of this, Arla.”

“Mum, I don’t even know what I did. It just happened,” Arla replied with a quiver.

“I know you didn’t mean to do it, but if Alpha Anton were to find out, you would be in grave danger. You mustn’t do it again, Arla, promise me,” begged Esther.

A knock sounded at the door, startling Arla and Esther, who was picking herself up from the floor.

Flustered, Arla opened the door, craning her neck up to meet the eyes of Alpha Anton.