When Wolves Howl

Harper and Christian stared at him in bewilderment as he locked his eyes with Morgan. What the hell was she talking about? What he was? What nonsense was this witch spewing? She stood slowly and walked over to a shelf where she grabbed a cup filled with herbs, honey and hot water. Before returning to her place she handed the drink to Brayden who eyed the concoction cautiously.
As she sat the fire burning under the cauldron hanging above it began to flicker as she looked back at him. “Drink,” she told him as she focused her attention on the fire before her. “In order for you to fully understand and believe, I must take you back; back to a time that defined your path.” Brayden was frozen; inside he wanted to get up and storm out, fearful of what he was about to learn, but something was stopping him from moving.
“It will only work if you drink the potion; your mind is not willing to allow you to see the truth, the liquid is essential.” “How do I know this potion will not alter my mind to ensure I see what you want me to and not what is real?” He was untrusting by nature; having his mind played with was something he did not like.
“If you want to know you must drink; it will help you prepare for what you are about to learn,” she said as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Something took over him as his hand raised and brought the cup to his lips; giving in he took the drink fully in one swallow. The tingling began deep inside him as his eyes became blurry and his head began to swoon. All of a sudden he was blind and deaf to everything and everyone around him; except Morgan. Her voice was whispered but loud to his ears as he heard her say, “Brayden, follow me.” Struggling to find her, his head was shifting back and forth; he began to panic as he heard her softly call his name over and over. Then as if everything came to a halt, he heard her speak loudly, “Look at me!”
Opening his eyes he found himself deep in a forest; she was beside him as he looked intently around him, nothing felt familiar. “Where are we?” he asked. “Where it all began; come, let me show you,” she said as she began walking towards an opening. They came upon a small village; quaint huts lined a small dirt road. Looking back and forth he tried to take in what he was seeing; women and children gathered around one particular hut. They seemed joyful, they were celebrating something. His heart began to race as he walked closer; a small elderly woman exited the hut holding an infant wrapped in a white cloth. “They are excited about the child,” he told Morgan as he watched joyfully with them. “Yes, this is a glorious day; a day they have waited for for a very long time. A son is born; but no ordinary son,” she responded as they both stared at the celebration before them.
The woman held the infant as high up as she could reach; the moon shone brightly on him. People cheered and threw petals from flowers on the ground lining the path she would take to reach another hut across the way. An elderly man awaited them as they walked on the petals on the ground before them. He was a large man wearing a headdress made of white silver and black wolf fur; his legs were bare aside from the leather moccasin boots that covered his feet and calves. He stood silently, waiting for them to reach him.
She came to a stop in front of the man and stood still waiting for him to begin. He raised his eyes towards the moon and let out a howl so loud it set off an echo through the entire forest; and before he knew it, wolves came out and surrounded them. “What is happening?” Brayden once again felt his heart begin to race; anxiety was building up deep inside him. “Watch,” was all she said.
Seven wolves sat in a circle surrounding the couple with the child as the others stood intently behind them. Reaching in the pouch attached to his waist, he retrieved a small wooden container filled with some kind of ash. Speaking in a language Brayden did not recognize, the man spread a thick line of the ash across the infant’s forehead. The woman laid the child on the ground and stepped behind the pack of wolves in the circle. As the man stood over the infant the wolves sat still; the child never made a sound. He began chanting again as the pack began to walk slowly around the child; his little legs and arms began to kick and swing in excitement. Brayden found it odd that the small child did not seem frightened of the large animals circling him.
He continued to watch in awe as the man bent down and wiped different symbols in ash over the child’s legs and arms; he then turned his attention to the child’s chest. The chanting began again, this time louder, as the wolves began to howl in unison as the man drew a symbol of a wolf on his chest. Brayden felt a tingling sensation in his soul as he watched it all unfold; the man picked the child back up and walked over to a large stone boulder that sat just in front of the stream, the moon shone brightly on it. Placing him on the flat surface of the boulder the man stepped back and allowed the wolves to circle the infant; coming to a halt as one particular wolf sat sternly and proudly in front of him. It must be the alpha, was all Brayden could think, since it was much bigger than the rest and had a lush coal black coat of hair. His eyes glowed a ruby red as he raised his head and howled so loudly it forced the other wolves to bow down around him; the infant never made a sound.
Suddenly loud popping noises came from all around them; causing the wolves to scatter and the humans became engulfed in chaos. Hissing noises rang loud in Brayden’s ears as arrows flew through the air, targeting everything and everyone around them. His heart began to race as his eyes searched the grounds trying to see where this was all coming from; but knowing it was coming from everywhere. Frozen where he stood all he could do was watch as armed men forced their way into the open slaying wolves and humans alike.
“Morgan! What is happening?!” He was confused and saddened by the scene that was playing before him; powerless to do anything as he had to force himself to remember this was just an illusion, it was something from his past she had brought him here to see.
She never answered as he continued to watch everything unfold; a piercing inflicted his heart as a deep feeling of loss and sadness spread through his entire body, but not understanding why. As the noise of warriors, battles and agony subsided; leaving nothing but death and destruction, Brayden’s eyes landed on a familiar form.
Merging from the smoke left by the fire infused arrows, his father stood over the wounded man that had laid the infant on the boulder. His eyes were filled with rage as he told the man, “your journey ends here and now Druid! You should never have denied me; did I not tell you I would have my way with or without your help?”
Breathing heavily, with one hand covering the bleeding knife wound he had received trying to protect the child, the druid answered Henis, “beware, mortal, for what you are about to do will surely cause a rift in the supernatural world; a fatal spell will be cast over your entire kingdom, is that what you wish for your people?”
“You need not worry about my kingdom, Druid, you chose your side,” Henis responded with anger. “You cannot gain what you desire this way, Henis, it does not come from manipulating the supernatural; this will only bring a reign of fire and destruction that will follow you and your entire kingdom for centuries to come.”
Confusion engulfed Brayden, he had no idea what was happening; what was his father doing? And what did this have to do with him? Sensing his emotional overload, Morgan turned to Brayden, placing his face between her hands, “Brayden, quiet your mind and open your heart. Your truth is here; see it, feel it, accept it,” she said as she slowly turned his head back to the scene playing out in front of him.
“I care not about centuries, only the present. I came to you for guidance, I did everything I was destined to do and you leave me with a barren wife? No child to carry on my name; to continue to rule the kingdom and carry on my lineage? You left me shamed and desperate. Now I will not only have a son, but a most powerful heir to rule the Kingdom of Abyss; and nothing of your trickery can stop me!”
Brayden felt the air leave his chest; his father’s words shocked his soul as if he were struck by a bolt of lightning. What did this mean? His body began to shake as he watched his father grab the long silver steel sword from his side, raise it high above his head before slamming it through the man’s chest.
His breathing became ragged and his hands felt moist with sweat; he felt his entire body shake as he heard Morgan softly say, “listen to them speak.” As if in unison he heard what sounded like thousands of wolves howling.