It Came From Salem- A Lycan Story

Little Blue Bird

I stared at the envelope in my hands, feeling the texture of the woven paper beneath my fingers. On one side was the seal of the Lycan Council, a wolf sitting on its hind legs, howling at the Moon. On the other side, drawn in shiny gold letters that swirled and danced across the page, was an invitation to open it. 

I no longer knew how to read, having been pulled out of school after my first bleed at just 10 years of age, but I recognized the names written on the paper: 

Dorsey and Heiress Attridge. 

A feeling filled my stomach, a cold tendril of dread constricting my core and blocking the air in my throat. I knew exactly what the envelope held. Without opening it, without the ability to read it, I knew what it was. A summons to the Lycan Court, for them to discuss our problem once again, determining what next course of action to take. 

I knew we had dragged on too long, and the Council was waiting for the outcome of all our work to change. They had threatened at the last summons, nearly three months ago, that this might have been our last chance.  

A shudder attacked my spine, thinking about the next step of action if they considered us a lost cause. A fate no Shifter would wish on even their worst enemy could be handed out to Dorsey and me without an iota of remorse from the Council. And they had every right to. 

I did not believe there was something we could do about it. We had exhausted all our options. Sighing, I bent forward to place the heavy envelope onto the mahogany coffee table, deciding it was best to push the inevitable out of my head for now. 

My eyes moved from the envelope on the table to the wedding photo resting on the mantel. Clothed in elegant white and baby blues, neither one of us wore a smile. Dorsey's arm was tightly holding my waist, the only show of affection in the whole photo. Two bright pink bite marks marred the otherwise perfectly presented bride and groom. Our Chosen Mate marks. 

We were filled with hope at the time of our Mating Ceremony, excited at the prospect of a vibrant future. One we could see so clearly as if looking at it through perfectly shined crystal. But now that crystal had fogged and our future looked mangled. 

If only he were to have been my real mate. Then this whole mess would have been avoided. 

There was no help in trying to change the past, only hope the future wasn't as grim as I imagined. 

I was broken from my thoughts at the sound of a bell, an almost petite noise that one could miss if they weren't trained to notice it. I spun on the heel of my shoe, knowing if the Midwives had seen, I would be scolded into the next century. Thankfully, they had left nearly ten minutes earlier, having used medicinal baths and massages to help ease me from my ailment. 

I strutted out of the front room, the sound of my heels clicking as I tread from carpet to tile. Our kitchen was small and mostly unused, the counters bare and the cabinets empty. The Midwives feared that making me work would only worsen my condition. And any food outside of my allotted diet was strictly forbidden. I was delivered three meals a day, plus medication; it all kept me on schedule. 

Looking down at the nearly sterile counter, my eyes swept over the schedule. Laid out in pictures and numbers so I would not have to ask someone to read it, my day from the minute I woke to the minute I went to sleep was blocked out for me. 

At this bell, I was to pray to the Moon. 

Ask for a pup. 

I sighed, continuing my trek toward the Moon room. Nearly three years of the same begging, and yet my prayers were not met. 

Between the kitchen and the Moon room was our living space. The walls a golden hue that melted into deep red carpets. The Healers promised it would override my internal need for a protector and convince my wolf to ease me of the condition that plagues me. The colors, they explained, would be associated with royalty. The highest rung in the Lycan hierarchy.