The Alphas Cursebreaker

I knew that my village hated me, but I didn’t think they would take it as far as to sacrifice me. Over the past seven generations, every twenty to thirty or so years the Alpha Kings bloodline declares it needs a witch. That witch never comes back, and no one knows what happened to them. The thought made me anxious, I was sure I was going to get killed, I was a useless witch after all.

Of course though I wasn’t the only witch in my family to be doomed, for multiple generations almost like we were cursed each member had been born with little to no magic energy.

I looked down at my hands, they were pale, my fingernails were clipped, and I had multiple scars across the palms of my hands try to do spells. No of them worked, no of them at all. So again, I shouldn’t be too surprised that the village would want to send me away. They were probably trying to stop my bloodline from continuing.

I had no siblings, I had no parents. Orphaned from a young age, when my father and mother took me camping to see the stars that us witches descend from. A vampire passing by wanted a meal, probably thinking that they were easy targets separated from the village. My father, who had some magic power descending from a desperate bloodline then my mother, tried to protect the both of us by casting a protection spell. He only had enough magic to shield me, and my mother also died trying to protect me. The vampire didn’t even try to attack me, just walked away with a smirk on his ugly face.

I had nothing against werewolves. There kind was actually the backbone of this land, they multiplied easily and they had the very Moon Goddess watching over them. The Alpha King, his bloodline, had been chosen by the Moon Goddess eras ago. I wondered why they needed a witch.

“Ares!” A curt call of my name, I turned my head peering over my shoulder. It was one of the werewolves sent to collect me. He was brutish, with a shaved head and a deep frown. “Hurry up witch!” He called it out like it was an insult.

Just because I had nothing against werewolves didn’t mean their kind like my kind.

I rolled my eyes and continued packing. I wasn’t sure how long I would be gone, or if I was even coming back, so all my valuables were going with me. These valuables were what made a witch a witch, a spell book, I sighed realizing that was really my only thing of value. My spell book had been passed down for generations, each time it passed hands it took on a different appearance. Mine was old, with a moon and stars carved into the leather bound cover yet a heinous three marks were dug into the cover ruining it. Ropes bounded the pages together and the pages were old, yet firm and sturdy as if they weren’t as aged as they let on. Inside the spell book was a number of spells, however I didn’t have the magical power to cast most almost all of them. Pushing the rest of my clothes inside the suitcase, I turned around heaving it to my side.

Before I took a single step forward I looked in the mirror by my door. My black hair was long, coming down to my waist. My eyes were a dark grey, my face was average, and a small smile found its way on my lips. I was wearing a magic resistant robe overtop my clothing, hiding away my outfit, the robe was dark black with gold runes sewn into the fabric it even had a hood which I had pulled over my head. The robe fell all the way to my feet, but wasn’t long enough that I would keep stepping on it.

I wondered if I looked like a capable witch.

“Any help?” I asked.

The werewolf scoffed. “Just cast a spell.” Obviously he wasn’t made aware that I wasn’t a capable witch at all, I wondered if I even had the right to call myself a witch.

Once again I rolled my eyes, I moved forward dragging the suitcase behind me until I reached the wagon. The wagon on the outside looked normal, just a wooden base and frame painted silver along the frames while the base was a dark red. A pack of wolves was pulling the wagon, they bore their teeth and growled at anyone that passed by them. Surely only a werewolf could only tame them. I felt like I used all my strength pushing my luggage up inside the wagon, with one last heaving breath I pushed myself into the wagon as well.

The oaf of a werewolf pushed himself into after me, taking a seat only a foot away. His arms crossed and his expression grim.

Inside the wagon was different from what a regular one would be like. The King must have money to spare. There was a mirror across from my seat, which slid open as a means of communicating with the driver. The seats were lined with a plush red cushion, and the wallpaper was a pure silver color. At least the doors had been removed, making for a nice breeze as the driver clicked for the horses to go.

“Be on your best behavior in front of the King.” The oaf barked at me. He was looking out the open door way, watching the passing city and trees. I could see people gathering to watch the wagon pull away, their expressions happy and relieved. I could even hear some cheering.

“Why do they hate you so much?” The oaf asked, seemingly his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He must have seen more than he had let on. “My father said when we take a witch it’s like pulling a tooth, why are they giving you up so easily?”

I looked forward, peeling my eyes away from the open doorway. “Who knows?”