Chapter 54

Bryson
As Justice raised a man, I think like a man…. But they don’t. I’d already tried the ‘mortal’ way in his words, and he deemed my visit invalid…. I tried teleporting to Hell to see the Void King for my children, yet, I could not speak with father as a man to a man…
To speak with a god so old on matters he will not bend on, old rituals must be done…Effort must be taken to gain their attention, and sacrifice must be given from all parties, me included, if I’m to stop this.
Being in my robes and so big makes it hard to enjoy mortal things… The tree I felled for my seat was an old growth oak, about as old as me, about 387 years old. I didn’t plant this one, but my claw marks on it was from my second ever migration. It was just a sapling then…
So was I. I was 16 when I marked this tree.
When you’re a vagabond you *Can’t* stop running…. But I was pardoned from being born.
Watching the sun dip low, made my crown blaze higher… I threw a log into the bonfire, watching the flames dance as the sun was nearly gone. Being temporarily alone was quiet…. It was almost nostalgic being out here, if only for the fact that I had to fashion a small campsite near my own grave. The monument became the center of a stone-pathed nature park, now with seating a mortal could sleep on.
I silently repeated that… I still don’t want this power, because of the responsibility that comes with it.
“Goodnight Alpha!” I got happily waved at by a random teenager. She was with her friends, but they apologized for her, and told her not to bother me.
“Goodnight Fatima.” I waved back casually, learning her name by reading her soul. I hate that that’s kind of automatic when I don’t know someone now….
Many other Alphas would have *jumped* to have this damn crown and a whole ass realm to mold.
I don’t.
I just want to be and Alpha and watch wrestling on the weekends. I want my pack to see me as just a man, but of course no one does when you’re 11 feet tall.
I’m *11* feet tall now. I’m the height of a minotaur! An elder one at that….
The wind blew, rattling the progressively naked branches of old growth oaks.
I can’t feel cold, I never really could, but I knew it was brisk. Random she wolves who walked the stone path back to the pack wore sweaters, carrying Half Café house-blend. I had a finished mug myself. Their pre-teen pups, not yet shifting age, bounced in the stray leaves.
This particular spot in BeastMoon isn’t the wild, not anymore, but before the pups this place was all trees…
And I lived as my middle child… I would not wish that life, to be a vagabond, on anyone… It’s worse than exile. At least in exile, if you’re strong enough, you *can* find somewhere to live and have respite… As an immortal fugitive, he will *always* be on the run…
Always looking over his shoulder…
Never able to truly trust anyone, but at least during his journey he has his mate… So at least he isn’t alone… Even I must admit how *intense* that feeling gets. I was 287 when I met Isabelle… I ran away at 14. About the most company I got was the forest spirit guardian.
That thought made the fire blaze, but its sound was soothing…. And where I put it, and the makeshift seating area was perfect. My amateur masonry wasn’t all that bad either. All this will be a firepit.
Maybe I might make a small pack event or something and we could roast marshmallows.
It would boost morale. I don’t even like sweets, but I’ll go for them.
“Master the barrier is almost done!” Heidi’s kid, Tiffany shouted on her broom. My little niece came all the way from Romania, while in the process of building AND moving to a new coven castle in the Amazonia Rain Forest.
“Do you see any more wolves?!” I shouted back.
“They’re fine where they are master!” She shouted back. “Oh and I have the ingredients ready!”
She tossed a small magic storage bag filled with ingredients and a parchment with instructions … but I still sensed a few youths out there, likely just curious.
She said they were fine though, so when it’s ready to start, I won’t hesitate.
I didn’t want to do this… I didn’t want to access my powers, yet my symbol of a hammer in a circle pulsed with its activation. It was as if my body reminded me that I was *never* mortal…
Ven had been inactive today until now… This got my inner wolf’s attention. He is my instincts given mind, being the first Horned Wolf… I was born with him, so I guess even when I was a vagabond, I was never *truly* alone. Well kind of… He’s not another person.
/Something does not feel right… but I think we should continue for Kaizen’s sake… Should anything happen, we are 4./ He said in my head.
I agreed, picking up the instructions. It helps that I can see without light…. It was moonless tonight; the only light out here was the faint magic glow of the blue flowers, my crown, and the fire.
The original spell was for a coven leader to call the Horned One in his anger and appease him with herbs and oils. It was tweaked for me. Inside the magic storage bag were more, smaller, but normal bags. The leather bags had oils, while the paper ones had herbs. The first oil in the bag was a combination of red, and black lavender. It was to be tossed, leather bag and all into the fire.
I tapped my foot on the ground 3 times.
“I knock on the gates of Tarteron…. On my authority as Birrai’shivaal, Third Prince of Hell, the Lord of Justice, Retribution, and Punishment, request the presence of my father, Zuviel, The Horned One, the Void King of Hell.”
It turned a vibrant orange.
I sensed my Lead Beta.
“Tiffany gave me these blue sticks.” Said Zackery, holding a bundle of Blue Pine logs… I couldn’t recall the other name for them, but the bluish bark and wood held more oils and resin than normal pines.
“I forgot the elvish name, but Big Blue Pine was used for cremation.” I mentioned casually.
/ Our little mate is here./ Said Ven suddenly.
They weren’t close enough yet, but in about 20 yards, I’m yelling at them.