What if who you thought you were was only a drop in the ocean of time?
What if your existence was fated to follow a predestined path?
And you hated that path. And you fought fate.
Katya Luschkova longs to break free from the suffocating hold of he...
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I was floating. Drifting through a sea of time that I'd never even known existed until then. My body was weightless. Actually, I didn't even know if I had a body at that point. I was just aware of my "essence". At first, it was peaceful and I flowed easily through the streams of existence in a state of in-between. Neither in the place I had been going to nor in the place I'd left. It was a surreal, disconcerting feeling. While I floated I realized even in death I hadn't found freedom. I was still bound to travel a path I couldn't see, couldn't control. Resignation settled in. And I wondered, "Is this it? Is this all there is?"
I was disappointed. Subconsciously I knew I searched for something. I had never been able to name what exactly I longed for. It was an idea, a wisp of smoke that drifted further away when I tried to grasp it, slipping through my fingers.
My thoughts were sluggish. Would I float here until I remembered? Would I keep on wandering aimlessly until some realization hit me? What am I supposed to do now?
I was unsure of how long I drifted. I had no idea what was in front of me, what awaited me when I woke. Or if I would ever wake again. So I thought of all that I had left behind.
I thought of the life I would have lived if my Alpha, no, if Leonid hadn't turned into the monster he was now. I was always blaming someone else. What had I done to stop it? If there was anyone at all who could have, it was me. But I'd only watched. I thought of all the innocent members of our pack that I'd watched die. All my life that's all I'd ever done. Watch. Yet, I could complain. It was pathetic. Maybe I could have made a difference. I'd never know now, because not once had I ever tried.
My skin began to prickle with this awareness. I had the urge to scratch but I had lost all control of myself as well. The itch augmented into a searing heat burning me everywhere. It was happening again. The white flame was engulfing me.
Was it possible to die two deaths?
I didn't have a body, did I? So what was burning?
The answer was a foreign whisper across my consciousness —so old, so achingly familiar, yet so far away and out of reach.
Your soul.
The whispers continued in a language I knew I'd once understood. And with every uttered syllable I was aware of it rewriting itself over the entirety of my self. It had been there before. I had just forgotten.
Remember. The voice urged as it called out my sins, my promises. I burned for a long time. And the flame, it was conveying to me fragments of memories.
In one, I stood in warmth and light, kneeling before someone. I don't know who it was but it was clear I revered them. In another, I stood among humans on a battlefield watching a coming army. An army of Wolves. In the last, I stood in front of Leonid.
And it was clear then.
I had made the wrong the choice. I could have stopped him then. My purpose since the beginning of time had never been to watch.
