Twin Moon - Chapter 209 - Three Years Ago
Whiskey.
I was awake before the sun, and had already ransacked through the rest of the huts still standing. I found a few interesting items, some jewellery, silverware, nothing worth taking with me though. I decided to go back and search the Alpha’s house more thoroughly. The study or office space proved to be worth wild. I found another journal on a bookshelf in there. This one only dated back three generations, the first entry being date marked as 12th October 1935. He wrote about his desire to have the chosen daughter come back to them. Which confirmed my original theory, this pack have had firsthand contact with the Moon Goddess. I’m getting closer. I took this journal, and the other older one I found yesterday, and went to get comfortable on an armchair that I hadn’t destroyed yet. I opened the newer book first. I know all too well that I am going to have a difficult time trying to decipher the old text in the other journal. Best to leave it for last.
After reading the first few pages, my first impression is that this Alpha was a total quack. All he wrote about was the chosen daughter. The time that she lived with them brought them joy and prosperity. Apparently, he believed that her presence gave the pack well wishes and good fortune. Even though she had died three hundred years before he was the Alpha, he still wrote like it was only recent. If he hadn’t have written the dates, I would have thought that he was there for it, that he knew her personally. This idiot. Believing in fairy tales like a child. Is it any wonder it was so easy for me to wipe out this pack. I flipped through the rest of the pages more quickly, becoming more and more frustrated and annoyed at how this Alpha glorified the Moon Goddess and her chosen daughters. It's all a crock of shit. All this bullshit about how great and powerful she is. How she is the light in the dark and how she loves all of her children. And yet nothing about how to find her or her so called chosen daughter. I slammed the book shut and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and dropped to the floor with a thud. I curled my fingers into a tight fist, letting my nails press deep into the palm of my hands. I took a few deep breaths, and along with the grounding feeling of the pain in my hands, I was able to calm down again before losing all control. Damn this temper of mine.
I opened the second book, the older one, and began to slowly read my way through the pages. It was taking a lot longer this time, due to my inability to understand the text. I should have worked harder in the old language, stupid me thought the current dialect would be enough. I only ever did just enough to make them happy. It was lazy of me, and in turn has made me weak. Just like they said I would be. They may have been ruthless bastards, but they know what they were talking about.
Each page took me roughly twenty minutes. It was time well spent. This journal, it is very different to all of the others I have found and read. Other Alpha’s spoke of being saved and blessed by the Moon Goddess. This Alpha spoke of doing things differently, he wanted to force change, make things happen, not just sit around and wait for a blessing. I like this Alpha. He knows how to get things done. The more I read, the more I admired him. Even if he was just a filthy beast, he was a beast with a brain. About halfway through the book, his mention of the word ‘Boginya’ started appearing multiples times in the same sentences. From what I could translate, the chosen daughter had risen into his pack. Finally. I am getting somewhere. He wrote about her being a young she-wolf, only fourteen and still a pup. The birth of her wolf had only come about a week prior to her Goddess stature arising. The news of the young girl travelled far and wide, and celebrations lasted for weeks. The she-wolf was tested and trained daily until her power revealed itself. Vozdukh. Dykhaniye. Air or wind, I believe. How interesting.
The fact that this dog could control the wind, struck a chord with me. If anything, I became more invested in this journal and its proper translations. A talent much like my own. How could that be? The hunters gave me my abilities when they created me. I was a lab rat. They told me as much, repeatedly. How could a daughter of the Moon Goddess share the same gifts. I must be translating it wrong. There is no other way, this isn’t just some random coincidence.
**Three years ago.**
I was puffing hard, gasping for breath as I was hunched over on my hands and knees. My forearms were still tender and raw from my last lesson. I could feel the fresh lashes on my back, they stung like a bitch, but with each new hit, the feeling was melting away to the numbness.
“Opyat' taki!” (Again) he screamed,
“I can’t” I gasped. My lungs felt like they were ready to explode. My body had been pushed to its limits, and I'm not sure how much more it can take before it gives up on me completely. The whip came down on my back with a crack. I winched and clenched my teeth, swallowing the scream. A new trickle of blood ran down my side and dripped onto the floor. The sounds of the droplets hitting the cool concrete was unusually calming.
“Again, Whiskey!” Pasha yelled through his deep Russian accent. I huffed and pushed myself up. I slowly stood up right on shaking and worn out knees. The room was freezing, as per usual. I've attended my lessons in this same frigid ice box for as long as I can remember. Always the same. Don’t live up to their expectations, punishment. Argue or refuse, punishment. Fail, serious punishment. Only when they approve of my efforts am I rewarded. Which is a very rare occurrence. Nothing is ever enough for them. I remember when I was a child, my reward was warmth. I was so easily pleased back then. Now my rewards vary. Sometimes its food, sometimes its small things like books or new training gear. They realised, after a little trial and error, that a night without beatings was more a reward for them than it was for me. Especially since I am becoming better at the use and control of my power. There was only so many men they could send in to die. And anyone that tried to attack me now, would die very painfully. I promised John that he would never get the chance again. Well, that vow went for anyone that tried it.
“Last chance!” he screeched over at me. I snarled and curled my lip up with a growl. These fuckers are damn inpatient. I straightened my back and gritted my teeth. I held my arms out in front of me, facing my palms towards the two hundred kilo weighted ball. I forced the power through my tired body. The weightlessness and airy feeling tickled across my skin. The room filled with a soft breeze, but steadily increased into rapid whirlwind. The ball lifted slightly off the floor and spun around in place. If I want this lesson to stop, I’d have to really show them something. And this wasn’t going to be enough. Anger and hatred filled my veins, burning me from the inside out. The air twirling around my hands began to mix with thin whisps of black smoke. I tensed my fingers and screamed out loud. I flung my arms to the side, sending the heavy ball flying across the room and slamming into the concrete wall. The weight hit the wall with so much force, it cracked through the bricks and imbedded itself into the fixture.
I once again fell to my hands and knees, gasping for air. I was past the point of weak now. I doubt I will even be able to stand up and walk back to my room. My head spun with dizziness, and I wanted to vomit from the overexertion. A slow clap sounded from the protective barrier. I looked over to see my teacher smiling widely and strolling towards me.
“See” he cheered,
“YA znal, chto ty smozhesh' eto sdelat'” (I knew you could do it). I flopped onto the freezing cold floor and rolled over onto my back. The coolness of the frozen concrete was nice against the fresh wounds to my back. I had almost forgotten about them. I took a deep breath and swallowed my vomit. Fuck, I think I'm going to pass out.
“You just need the, pooshchreniye (encouragement)” he laughed and leaned over my body. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened when he smiled. Which he only did when he was getting his kicks out of punishing me, or on the rare occasion like this when I have impressed him. He always wore the same thing. A stupid grey Ushanka, a black V-neck sweater, and a military vest that has way too many pockets. Like, why does he even need that many pockets? And then also black cargo pants, again with too many pockets. All rounded out by his black heavy leather boots. They all wear black, I’m not totally sure why. But on this arsehole, with his light blue eyes and white-blonde hair poking out from under his dumb hat, it just looks weird. Like a very tall, little boy is trying to play soldier. I groaned and flipped him off. A risky move, but seeing as he is smiling right now, maybe he will laugh it off. He chuckled and stood up straight and started walking back to the barrier.
“Opyat' taki!” (Again) he called happily. There was no way I was even getting up off the floor, let alone summoning the power again.
“Net” I spat back at him. I heard the scraping of his boots as he stopped walking.
“Net?” he snapped,
“I can’t. Ochen' ustavshiy (Too tired)” I groaned,
“Ty budesh' delat', kak tebe govoryat” (You will do as you are told) he yelled and came to stand back over me. I could feel my body quitting on me. I was about to pass out, any minute now. May as well have a little fun before I do.
“Not today” I crooned and waved my arm out in front of me. The air I was able to summon was just enough to send him flying across the room and into the wall. I heard him hit the bricks with a thump and I smiled. Then everything went black.
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