Chapter Three—A foretold Prophecy

Chapter Three—A foretold Prophecy

~TANNER~

The sudden appearance of Imelda, the high priestess of the pack was not a good sign. She only appeared when rites needed to be performed, festivals needed to be celebrated….and prophecies to be foretold.

From the look in her eyes, I could tell it was none of the first two.

Cecile’s father had a glum look on his face as I pushed his daughter towards him. He didn’t say a word, pointing at the door. The cursed one obeyed, pure with servitude, as her head hung low when she retreated into the house.

“What is this about?” I asked, with a frown on my face. I was at unease.

The high priestess sighed deeply, “It would be better if we conversed inside the home.”

My frown deepened, “Alright then.”

********

Worry knots formed across the crevice of my forehead, despite Cecile’s father pouring me a cup of barely tea, my unrest was beyond mild. The high priestess wasn’t forthcoming with her auspicious news, instead she chewed on some rye bread which was offered to her by my lover’s father, flashing him a smile as he walked away briefly.

Her eyes were on me now—Strange, surreptitious, secretive.

I folded my arms, the v lines across my brows creasing even tighter, “Spill it, Imelda. You know you have something to say to—

“The goddess spoke to the elders and I.”

I snorted, “Yes?”

“Two sisters born of fate’s design,

One bathed in darkness, the other in light,

The curse shall rise to where love has lied,

A chosen heart will be cast aside,

The Alpha blind, shall take her hand,

And be doomed to save the shattered land,

Fear the Luna, crowned in night,

For she will break the Alpha’s might.

For what is sealed is never wrong,

But forged in fear and buried long.”

Imelda took a deep and long breath, “That is the prophecy.”

‘A chosen heart will be cast aside…….The Alpha blind, shall take her band.’

The words called out to me greatly, I couldn’t begin to fathom understanding such a parable which was said to me. But I felt it, a slight tinge of awry, like it was relating to me in some form.

“You feel it, don’t you.” Imelda’s eyes bore into me, “You know what this means, don’t you Alpha?”

My throat suddenly turned dry and I finally helped myself to the sip of barley tea. I downed the cup in a simple gulp, wiping my mouth with the back of my hands, “You overestimate me. I don’t know what any of it means.”

“You’re the alpha of the pack. You should be able to read prophecies.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, nervous, but a laugh nonetheless, “I was born with a gift, not with conditions.”

She sighed, “There’s calamity upon the pack Tanner. We’re headed for disaster and there’s only one way we can stop it.”

I felt the twang again, a strain in my heart which left me suffocated. I shot up to my feet—unable to still understand the prophecy, but in a slight way still feeling a sense of what it means. It was like the answers were in my palm, warped in a hieroglyph that only I could decipher.

I let out a deep breath, facing the high priestess, “Where are the elders?”

~LYDIA~

Another cursed branch had appeared on my body as I tended to my wounds. I let out a wince, applying ground fennel seeds to the scrape on my knee when I noticed the new line of markings, now reaching the bone on my wrists.

A chilling sensation coursed through my spine. It meant nothing, the cursed mark on my body. I never felt power, nor strength, or vast pain. All I felt was a slight twinge in my consciousness, like my very mind was being stretched thin beyond remorse—it made me nauseous.

I gulped hard, ignoring the markings as my focus remained on the bloody scrape I tried so hard to clean out. Father walked past me, eyes beaming down with annoyance before he sent me to the pig stalls to muck the dirt again. It was another punishment for causing a debacle at the market.

I retreated into the darkness of the shed, my nose twitching as I picked up a fork to gather leftover hay. I grabbed onto my stomach which gurgled without shame, hungry from having sparely ate by the morning. Suddenly, my eyes caught a pile of dirty fruits, half eaten and mixed with the bark of trees.

It was the pig feed, unbefitting for a being of any kind. I wasn’t a being, I was an abomination in dire need of food to eat. So I crawled to the pile, fishing out some almost rotten fruits to fill my hunger, when I felt the hot breath of a beast behind me.

“Not now, Pickle.” I snorted with laughter, my father prized pig looking up at me with it’s eager and hungry eyes, “I need this food more than you know.”

He squealed nonetheless, not caring for my emotions, nudging my leg for a piece. I reluctantly threw him a half eaten cucumber, he let out another squeal and retreated. My body was stained from the mud he spayed on me, dejectedly sitting on the floor and chowed on the almost rotten pair and piece of bread I planned on finishing later.

I was bound to fall sick soon enough, swatting a maggot which crawled up my legs. The moon was beautiful at this time of the night, I looked up at it—enthralling, enticing, almost like it was calling out to me, or I was drawing it closer to my cursed self. I quickly looked away, unwilling to spread my disease to the gods themselves.

It didn’t take long before I heard Cecil’s screams from inside the house,

“Where is she?!!!!!”