Ziason Father

Yule city, Yule country.

Yule National School of Dance.

“Your project lacks the emotions required for such a heart-friendly piece, Miss Litotes. Dance that to a person with cardiac arrest and they could die. You need to wield passionate and subtle feelings when portraying a swan-like character, which is something you do not seem to possess. Stiff movements are meant for robotic showcases, not ballet or contemporary dances. You should have learned more about that instead of focusing on technique. You are dismissed. Next person.”

Eighty, or less than eighty words, yet they carry such venom that stabs Heaven’s heart like a blade.

She bites her lower lips to stop herself from bursting into tears, yet that doesn’t help as she grabs her bag and hurries out, slamming the classroom door behind her.

She squeezes through the crowded corridor as bursts of laughter echo in her head. The laughter is the mockeries of the demons that began dwelling with her since the night her parents died, that have always stalked her mind and entire being to drive her crazy.

She had been fighting them for the past seven years. Now she just can’t anymore. She’s too feeble to even face them.

And they know it.

Reaching her lodge, Heaven tosses her bag aside, tucking out her phone and chewing the nail of her shaking index finger as she dials her best friend’s number.

After several tries, her bestfriend, Lulu, doesn’t pick up, so Heaven resorts to calling her boyfriend instead.

He too doesn’t respond. But, thankfully, Lulu calls back.

‘Heaven, are you alright?’ the girl raps from the other side of the phone. She sounds breathless, as if running while talking.

Heaven shakes her head, though Lulu couldn’t see her, bawling her eyes out as she rants into the phone. “I’m not okay, Lulu! All my hard work… they… they are for nothing! The board rejected my project! How am I supposed to cope now?”

‘Hold on. Is it the one you’ve been working on for months now?’ Lulu says with short breaths again, earning a shriek from Heaven.

“Yes, Lulu! That’s the one!”

‘Isn’t it your final year project?’

“It is! Now I have to repeat a damn year, and I can’t get a job in the National Dance Company anymore. I can’t even get a job in any top companies, because I’ll have a red marker on my certificate! This is so unfair, Lulu! I’ll end up scrambling to survive now!”

‘It’s alright, Heaven. Can’t you get other jobs? I told you dancing shouldn’t have been your career—’

Heaven cuts the call immediately. She doesn’t want to hear any of Lulu’s chastisement when she’s having such a hard time.

The dancing industry isn’t like any other field. Heaven knew that. But no one prepared her for failure.

Repeating the year is a catastrophe to her entire dance future, and the mark will always the there like a dreaded scar.

Even if she reconciles with that thought, how does she manage another year in the academy when she had been working her ass off for the past four years to graduate school?

She had luck with a scholarship during her three years in junior dance school. However, she didn’t have the same advantage when she got to her senior years, so she took several part-time jobs, hoping for a brighter future when she finally gets to work for the company.

Now all those dreams are mere fantasies. Like burnt papers, they pieces and disperse. Just like that.

Heaven glances at the table clock. 11:35AM.

She needs to leave the room before her final-year roommate returns and finds her miserable. She doesn’t want to know if the girl passed her own project or not. It would only make her feel more shitty about herself.

The school surrounding stands on an island, linked by an arched bridge to another island, with large buildings, that looks like a city of its own—known as Small Yule. Then another bridge links Small Yule to land, where lies Big Yule, the main city.

Heaven’s boyfriend, Hector, lives in Small Yule, and she imagines herself hailing a cab across the bridge to his house. Still, it all ends in her imagination.

Instead, she leans on the bridge rail and stares into the sea, watching its gentle ripples as the tip of her index finger slides into her mouth.

Since her attention is fixated on the water, she doesn’t notice someone had sneaked up beside her until she hears them say, “If things fall in place now, how would you feel?”

At first, Heaven doesn’t react. She lets the voice sink in. Low-toned. Velvety. Sounding like an ancient being from the depths of an ocean.

Then, the next minute, she shudders on realization while turning to her right to see the stiff person standing next to her, prompting her to quickly takes her finger off her mouth.

The stranger towers above her. Heaven can quickly tell that her head reaches around his shoulder.

As his huge form casts a shadow over her, it shields her from the rising sun. And, despite that she’s gazing up at him, Heaven can’t grip the actual looks of his face. One thing she notes, though, is his expression. It lacks a smile.

Doesn’t a gentleman’s handbook instruct that a man should smile when meeting a lady for the first time—at least to strike a feeling of comfort that could urge her positive response?

Yet, should she be surprised by that? It’s in the nature of her kind to shit on politeness, after all.

She can smell his essence, though it’s not as strong as she read an Alpha’s would be. Surely, he sensed hers too before approaching her. Any wolf would recognize another wolf even if it’s in the human world.

“Happy?” she responds to his question anyway. “But it’s best not to hope.” Her eyes divert to the hand facing her—his left hand. He has no scar at the back of that hand.

“Even so, do you believe in the possibility?” the man presses on.

Heaven shakes her head. “Nope.” She returns her gaze to the water. “My life is already ruined. There’s no mending it, unless I can find a witch who would make the judges forget what they saw, so I’ll redo my project. But a witch would kill me on sight.”

The man lets an echoing laugh roll out of his lungs, giving Heaven chills for a moment. “Do you really imagine your wolf is growling, princess? No witch would know your wolf nature unless she tested you with silver, or checked your healing span.”

Heaven squints her eyes at him. Is he trying to insinuate that her wolf’s presence is too weak? Can he really say it out that loud without considering how it would make her feel?

“But you do not need a witch for this one,” the stranger continues, “all you need is a place to stay, a job without certificate, and food to eat.”

Heaven huffs. What a nice way to add fuel to fire. “Can you even hear yourself? Does a job without certificate sound realistic to you?”

“You have lived too long in the human world, Heaven.” Wait. He knows her name? “Why not return to the other world and refurbish your mind on the existence of magic and wonders?”

The man searches his coat pocket and tucks out a small black card. Pinned between his index and middle fingers, he thrusts it to Heaven’s direction.

“I’m in search of a dancer, specifically a wolf. I watched you move earlier, and have deemed you capable of teaching my kid,” he mutters. “She is seven and not problematic. You just need to teach her dance, and you will have food and a place to stay. Is that understood?”

Heaven nods hesitantly before taking the card with slow fingers. She stares at it as the stranger adds, “I will give you time to think. Call me with that number when you come to a decision.”

The man turns to walk away. He had already taken about three steps before Heaven suddenly realizes something.

“Wait!” she calls. The stranger obeys instantly, but doesn’t turn back to look at her. “You know my name. Don’t I get to know yours, at least?”

Subtle silence.

Whispering wind.

Calling birds.

“Ziason,” he mumbles, still without turning. “Ziason Father is my name.”

He continues walking casually toward the other end of the bridge, his hands dipped in his pants pockets like it’s not burdensome. And, for some reason, his sheen ebony hair doesn’t obey the law of nature that commands anything feathery to bow to wind.