I thought it was past time to have Sly take a bit more control. I wonder what Alexis will have to say about all of this...
[Araminta] [TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO] Ten years have passed since I last saw him, and yet, except for a few lines around his eyes and mouth, and a bit of gray at his temples, he seems unchanged. He’s still has devastatingly handsome as ever. And even though I burned his mark from my skin, I can still feel the connection that shouldn’t be there, the tie that binds us closer than any zing. We are mates. Fated mates. There is nothing that can take that truth away from us. It is late afternoon, but he is alone as he stands in the parking garage underneath the packhouse tower. As soon as he sees I’m not alone, he pauses to look at my daughter. Our daughter. “Hello,” Channing reaches out a hand towards Amy. “My name is Channing. Channing Greystone.” Amy looks up at me, confused. Giving her my best smile, I nudge her forward. “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s a friend.” Hesitantly, she places her small hand within his much larger one. I can see the moment of recognition flash through Chan
[Araminta] [Today] The streets are silent tonight in Crescent City. It’s a marvel that this place, this vision of Channing and his twin of a metropolis for the children of the moon nestled along the bay, is still standing. After the witches left with the formation of Haven it boomed, yes, but it had forgotten how to bloom. And now, what was left, is starting to crumble into ruin. First the rogues, drugged and deranged, ravaged the town, infecting the innocent too poor or too slow to escape. Then the humans came, and began sweeping the survivors off the street, processing them into those death camps. Now that the wolves are starting to fight back, and the new Alpha King has begun the process of resistance and healing, the humans have left our once shining city alone. They still overwhelm our kind with sheer numbers. But we have magic and a will to survive made even more powerful when balanced with a very simple and primal truth: We have nothing left to lose. “Look at the mess
[Araminta] [Two months later– Summer Solstice 35 years ago] Tomorrow morning is the solstice--a time of rebirth, when the world is ripe with possibilities. It's the\ perfect time to create something new. Everything is blooming, fruit is ripening, and the magic of creation is in the air. To create our new beginning, the witches are depending on the wolves. And this time their leader, Channing, is acting against the wishes of his people to give us witches a true chance at survival. We didn’t ask for this, but we didn't refuse when he offered. None of us coven leaders told our people either. What if it didn't work? What if something went wrong and everything was so much worse? In the end, we decided to take the risk. Although the biggest risk is to Channing and myself--if anything goes wrong, it would be our bodies, our souls, and our hearts at risk. To create a a casting as big as this one, it will require a connection so much deeper than finding your zing. It's a blending of soul
[Araminta] Once they recognize who they are facing, the rest of the young wolves scatter as if they had just been confronted with the scariest monster from their childhood nightmares. And I guess, in many ways, that’s exactly what they’re facing. Channing is an impressive sight. At almost 6’5” tall with broad shoulders and muscles honed in battle, even in civilian clothes he cuts an impressive figure. “I’m sorry about them,” he apologizes, removing a red silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. “Pups these days have no manners.”
[Araminta] That was the last time that I met with the Alpha King to negotiate the truce. In the end, the council of witches decided that the second agreement, the one that Chancy had created, seemed like the best compromise and guarantee of success. We knew the pack wolves and what they were capable of doing to us, but the rogues were a mystery. All of the stories we had heard from the borderlands were harsh and cruel, and whether or not they had any truth to them, we decided, as a unit, to go with “the devil we knew,” rather than deal with the uncertainty of “the devil we didn’t know.” I was the lone voice in the council room that voted for Channing’s deal. “It’s a chance for us to start fresh, to create a utopia away from the wolves. Channing even promised that.” Marlowe openly scoffed my points, and when I countered all of his arguments he said, “You seem awfully familiar with this wolf, Mrs. Sparks. I’d almost say you had feelings for him.” “Of course I do,” I responded with
[Araminta][50 Years Ago] The Alpha and I have been locked in battle over territory for the last two years. Every month on the new moon, when both of us are at our weakest, we meet to discuss whatever suggestions we have for peace brought to us by the heads of our people. And even though currently we are discussing what to do about the newly named “Crescent City,” we both know that what we do here will affect how other packs and covens interact in nearby towns. Our choices could change the world. Which is part of why we are having such a hard time. Last week I found a solution, hidden away in one of my great grandmother’s old books–a family album that she kept tracking our ancestral Thorpe line. The spell is what we call a “great working” a spell so big and powerful it felt more like granting a wish than casting a spell. And this one required more than the usual full coven of elders, It required a full quorum of Master Witches from around the world as well as the power of every Al