How do you fight the Moon?
The King has fallen to a God.
The world is gathering, surrounding the Northern hemisphere on all side, crushing, strangling the land in a tight noose.
All they demand is Charlie's head. The female Alpha born from two alp...
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The crows laugh. . .
Power shifts all of my bones.
There are wobbles in my vision. Push and pull. My insides want to tear apart. Impossibly, I'm held still while everything internally tries to renegotiate space.
Infinite power surges in uninvited.
"Odin?" Victoria's voice is from far to near.
Neck to the Sun, a forced shift is happening—something I can't control. I'm without power. My bones are no longer in my control.
Melting.
The heat is impossible, forging—bubbling the marrow.
An unquiet tide engulfs everything. The ocean's roar is in my ears, except it's not the waves I hear but my blood flushing through me. Weak teeth crumble as new skin-side teeth push through the gum line.
...it's only pain.
A moment of suspension between Wild and Skin.
Molding.
A new alignment is forming. Jolting, pounding, hammering the sockets as if this is my first shift. Bones scrape. Skin swells and bloats. There needs to be more room to contain what is happening. Immeasurable power needs to be housed in a measurable body. I was never born for this—Charlie is. Breathe. It's only pain—but...
"Mother." I cry out for mercy.
It's impossible to endure this torture. There is no ebb, no flow of the pain. No end. Only pain. More pain. It's growing. Gaining strength—burying my breath. Everything old is being devoured, shifted, elongated—bones are taking a new direction, guided by an unknown smithing source. My neck still angles towards the Sun, a pure forge liquefies.
"Father," I scream out for salvation.
Ice fingers press into both my shoulders.
Mending.
The last hammering sounds of bones settling into their final resting place. The strain of ligaments is easing. Tempered. There is no more struggling of the body.
Forged.
A new power surges through the veins. The scorching heat against my neck releases me as quickly as it grabs my throat of life. I know one thing for sure — it was not the Moon's demonstration of power. Opening my eyes, the Sun beams down. Everything looks clear and straightforward. I know what I am.
Made.
I exist in my own space—a sharp silver end of the spearhead. I am the weapon.
"Odin?" Victoria's voice shakes.
"Odin..." Mother's voice is filled with fear.
I'm on my knees with my fingers curled into the dirt. My eyes shift to Victoria's. She steps backward as I stand. She takes another step back, almost tripping over her own feet. I breathe out, uncurling my shoulders. Feeling the strength of my spine. Everything is different. Looking around, all the wolves seem fragile and brittle-boned. It would be so easy to rid the world of my enemies.
