The Son's Mask

Night draped over Serena like heavy satin as she sped through the woods on horseback, acceptance letter folded in hand. The hooves of her horse struck the rocks, sending sparks flying as they rode down the trail from Mooncrest, to the only destination left where her reckless dream might still actually be realized.

Each branch whipping across her arms seemed to tell her the same: madness. She knew that. Pretending to be her cousin Soren Vale, forging his mark into the Academy's accounts, betting everything on a spell that could unravel at the worst possible moment, yes, madness. But the council had left her with no choice.

The gates of Blood Hollow opened with a groan, and the guards pricked at her with vigilance, then hastily bowed. Serena hopped off her horse and strode to the manor house without delay. She did not stop until she saw her uncle, decked out with a silver beard, grinning back at her from his place on the porch.

"Ah, so if not the Ironfang she-wolf herself returned," Cedric slurred, standing up with all the elegance of a man who had not lost the vigor of his wolf to age. He spread out his arms, and Serena collapsed into them without hesitation.

"Uncle," she breathed, burying her face in his shoulder. His hug was comforting, calming her after the poison of the council chamber.

You only run to me when you're having issues behind you," he said, leaning back to look at her. "So, tell me what fire are you burning yourself with this time?"

Serena scowled, even though her chest still hurt. "I need Soren."

"Aha," Cedric said in a wise tone, with a growing smile. "This makes sense of the herd of hooves in the middle of the night." He nodded to the direction of the stairs. "Your cousin is undoubtedly upstairs sleeping, or faking."

Serena did not ask any question. She dashed inside, two steps at a time over the wood stairs until she burst into Soren's bedroom.

Her cousin was sprawled out across his bed, carelessly bouncing a rubber ball up and down against his palm. He did not even blink at her entering. "State your business, intruder," he growled without looking up.

Serena threw the letter on him. The ball hit the bed dead as Soren opened the parchment. His eyes narrowed as he read it, before his smile turned to amazement and then to disbelief, "You," he said, leaning forward. "You did it. You got in at the Academy."

Serena's grin was wolfish, her breathing in ragged gasps from flight. "I told you I could."

He held her shoulders, shook her once, laughing. "Do you realize what this is? You'll be training with the best, the strongest"

"The ones who think I don't belong," she interrupted, her tone cutting. "They're not going to be seeing Serena Vale. They're going to be seeing Soren. And I'll show them."

Soren's smile stumbled. His eyes blackened as he looked at her breast, her curves, her smell unmistakable evidence of her femaleness. "And how are you going to conceal all that? They'll catch you before the gates even shut."

Serena's belly roiled. She'd asked herself the very same a hundred times over. But before she could respond, Soren got to his feet and beckoned her to follow.

"There is one who might be able to assist you," he growled. "But you will not like the cost."

The trees grew more dense as they rode further into the Crescent Woods, well beyond where most of the wolves would venture. The air grew thicker and more charged with things that were dead.

As the shack appeared in sight, half-hidden by shadow and moss, Serena's skin crawled. Smoke drifted from a leaning chimney, but no woodpile rested stacked outside.

Soren leaped down first, marching up the sagging steps with a confidence that Serena could not help but envy. He knocked once. Then twice. The door opened with an exaggerated groan.

The woman who came out looked less like flesh and more like smoke. Her hair hung down her back like a river of ash; her cloudy eyes glowed with moonlight. She was not wolf, nor woman. And Serena found her pulse stuttering.

"What have you brought me this time, wolf boy?" the witch rasped, her voice a crackle of burning leaves.

Soren gestured towards Serena. "My cousin is in need of concealment."

The witch's attention slid briefly over Serena, pausing at her chest, her hips, her face. "You wish to walk among males unseen?"

Serena swallowed down the fear that swelled in her throat. "Yes."

The witch tilted her head slowly, considering. "It can be done. Your scent, your shape, even your voice can be hidden. But the body will always tell truth when the moon calls. During your cycle, the spell will fail. And the longer you wear it, the more it will take from you."

"I'll take the risk," Serena declared immediately.

The witch's cracked, propped lips curled into something like amusement. "Very well."

She hovered over the cauldron situated in the center of the shack, pouring the herbs into the roiling black liquid. The smoke spiraled around Serena wrapping her like fingers, soaking into her skin. Heat flowed through her body followed by a sensation of being pulled and stretched that had her gasping for breath.

When the smoke finally cleared, Serena looked down at herself. She was flatter in the chest and her shoulders were broader. Her scent was now an unmistakably male musk instead of the gentler scent of a she-wolf.

"It is working," she said breathlessly.

The witch’s eyes shined with glee. "Just remember, little alpha, power will always ask for a price."

By the time they reached Blood Hollow, the moon sat low and pale. Serena looked into the water trough, and barely recognized the boy that looked back at her. It was if she was looking at Soren’s twin.

Her cousin clapped her on the back, "you are crazy," he said with admiration, "but Mooncrest might just need your brand of craziness."

Serena's lips twitched up into a smile, and her stomach twisted with nerves. Tomorrow she left for the academy. Tomorrow she would walk into a den of wolves that would rend her limb from limb the second they knew the truth.

But at least this evening, she permitted herself one moment of victory.

Then, when the house descended into silence, a voice coiled around her mind in the way an ancient god would command, saying, inhumanly, You are Soren Vale. Report to Alpha Dominion Academy by dawn. Failure to report forfeits your acceptance.

Serena froze, blood running cold.

The spell wasn't supposed to activate until tomorrow night.

She has hours to embody the lie.

Serena had no time to prepare; her magic would not cloak her until the next night, and still, she was summoned. To waltz into the Academy as herself would ensure she was found out. If she refused, she might kiss her one opportunity for the throne goodbye.