Chapter 5: Research

Deanna entered with a tea trolley, her grin wide and warm. “Now, for a more pressing matter in the present! How are things with you, my child? You’ve been like a ghost these days.”

Alinta smiled gratefully as she poured herself some tea and took a muffin. “These smell divine! Thank you, Aunt Deanna. I’m doing well. I’ve finally been able to close the chapter on my mother’s passing and find some peace. I’m ready to make the much-needed changes to the cottage I’d been putting off.”

“That is wonderful news, my dear! Your mother would be so thrilled. I know Estelle would want you to move on and be happy.”

Alinta gently stirred her tea, her gaze dropping into the cup. She could only nod; Deanna spoke the truth, yet hearing her mother’s name still made words difficult.

“Anything else?” Deanna asked playfully, waggling her eyebrows in an effort to lift the mood.

Alinta's cheeks flushed. “Nope. Nothing new to report in that department, unfortunately, Aunt Deanna.”

The old woman chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “You know I'm only teasing, my child. The right man will come along at the right time.”

The two women remained wrapped in conversation, laughter and warmth filling the room. By the time they said their goodbye, darkness had fallen. Alinta shifted into her wolf form and sprinted home with practiced ease. She disliked lingering after nightfall, especially since the terrifying incident three months earlier. Fifteen minutes later, she arrived unscathed.

“That was a nice run! Thanks, Als,” Angela hummed, contentedly.

“I think we both needed it,” Alinta panted, scanning the interior of the cottage carefully before relaxing. “Especially to get home safely.”

She locked her door and headed straight to the bathroom. As the warm water cascaded down her back, her mind wandered.

It all felt too coincidental. The Rogue Deity was prophesied to return on her birthday, the eighth Crimson Moon. Eight symbolised new beginnings, yet for werewolves, a blood moon was an ill omen, heralding the death of a king. Her thoughts spiralled, weaving threads between past misfortunes and future uncertainty.

“Hey… you know I can hear your thoughts, Als,” Angela said gently. “Don’t start down that path. Everything will be fine.”

“Thanks, Ange. Sorry, I almost got carried away overthinking stuff again,” Alinta replied, turning off the faucet.

After her shower, she made a simple cheese sandwich for dinner, then carried her laptop to her mother's room.

She had never moved into it after her passing. Everything remained as it was, cleaned weekly, preserved with quiet reverence. A few of her mother's perfume bottles still rested on the dresser; occasionally Alinta would spritz one, letting scent conjure her mother's presence. She came here only when she sought comfort or solace.

She placed the laptop on her lap and whispered, “Mom, it's that time again. Please give me strength.”

Angela shared her quiet vigil, her emotions mirroring her person’s. For a moment, the room held a sacred stillness, until Alinta found the resolve to press the power button.

She took a couple of bites of her sandwich. When the login screen appeared, she set her meal aside and typed in her password, focussing her search on the lore of the Rogue Deity.

Mythical beings had their own World Wide Web, monitored in collaboration with the government. Forty-five minutes in, she stumbled upon a promising page. It was crudely designed, reminiscent of a late-nineties website.

It was more of an advertisement than an archive. The page opened with a brief history:

Many years ago, our Moon created the perfect wolf – a Deity with the power to seize the minds of corrupt kings and leaders. Yet one day he met his match and was devoured, his existence forever tainted. Even in defeat, he chose banishment, sacrificing himself to protect his people.

It has been prophesied that on the Eighth Crimson Moon, he shall return, glorious and unblemished, marking the death of a demon and the rebirth of our beloved Lord.

Join us on the 25th of November at Bare Mountain's Shadow Caverns. Festivities begin at 18:00. Click the link to book your tickets.

Alinta frowned. The page painted the Deity in an unsettlingly positive light, utterly at odds with what Aunt Deanna had told her. Not once was the word rogue mentioned.

He banished himself? she wondered. What about the Silver Lord? Are they referring to him? Or Raguel, the lesser Deity, because of his past good deeds?

Angela’s voice cut through her thoughts as Alinta took another bite of her sandwich. “It’s the web, Als. Don’t twist it into something it isn’t. They clearly don’t have their facts straight. And celebrating his return? That’s disturbing. Even though the first sentence is obviously referring to Raguel. This devotion feels… creepy. Who knows, it could be an occult group or something.”

Alinta considered Angela’s theory, then ventured another possibility. “Okay, scratch the ad for a moment. Hypothetically speaking… if the Rogue Deity did return, do you think it’s possible he was fighting the evil part of himself all along? That he might revert to his original self?”

“Caution, Als,” Angela replied. “We don't have the knowledge to draw conclusions. And don’t be so quick to dismiss the possibility either. Magic still exists.”

Alinta laughed softly. “Hey, since when are you the cautious and wise one? That’s my thing!”

“When you’re not in the right frame of mind, one of us has to be,” Angela teased. “I am just happy my sister is laughing again.”  

Alinta smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “Thank you, Ange. You are the best wolf-sister I could have asked for. Maybe next time we see Aunt Deanna, we can ask what she makes of this.”

Angela nodded, then her eyes lit with excitement. “You know what I smell?”

“Oh boy,” Alinta groaned, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to say no.

“Yup! I vote for in-depth research and a full-blown thesis!” Angela barked, spinning in a tight circle.

“Seriously, a thes–” Alinta cut herself off. A flicker at the window caught her eye.

She hurried over, but saw nothing. Still, she drew the curtains shut. “You know what? I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go to our favourite spot after work tomorrow. To clear our heads.”

“Yes!” Angela exclaimed. “Now, let’s get some sleep!”

Alinta returned to her laptop, bookmarked the page, and shut it down. After finishing her meagre meal, she washed her plate, poured a glass of water, and slipped into bed.

Outside, a lone black wolf lingered in the shadows, eyes fixed upon the little cottage.

“Oh, Alinta, my beautiful, beautiful Alinta,” he murmured. “Soon, you will not be so alone. Look at you, sitting in silence, conversing only with your wolf.”

Like a shadow, he swiftly slipped closer to a narrow opening, watching her curled beneath the covers. “One day, you will be home with your mate,” he hummed, low and thick.

“Mmm. I can't wait to tame my Angel. I will never allow her to leave my side,” another voice husked, raw with yearning, and restless hunger.

“All in due time. All in due time…” the first sighed, a tremor in his breath. “We have waited far too long.”

“What's stopping us from taking her now? They’ve had their freedom for nearly twelve years,” the second voice snapped, coiled and volatile.

“Still your impatience. We have a plan and need to follow it. Besides, good things come to those who wait.”

“I swear to the Divinities,” the second snarled wetly, “if your plan fucking fails, I will do things my way!”