Expectations Of Nature

14 - A Warlock

Not long ago, I scoffed at the idea of magic, elves, witches, and all those fantastical creatures that populate our dreams. I was a staunch rationalist, firmly rooted in the belief that every problem had a reasonable solution. That is, until the illusions of my deceased mother started haunting my thoughts. It had grown so troubling that I had even contemplated seeking the help of a psychiatrist. My reality teetered on the brink of unraveling.

But there I sat, face-to-face with an elderly woman who claimed to know my mother and possess healing secrets while professing a deep belief in fairies.

How had I stumbled into this surreal situation? I allowed my eyes to trace the contours of her wrinkled face, the cascade of long, silver hair, and the constellation of freckles adorning her skin. She was the wise matriarch of this peculiar assembly, holding more wisdom than I could ever hope to attain.

As I contemplated, I couldn't help but think about how, in ancient Greek folklore, even werewolves were considered mythical creatures that people fled from in fear. We, as a species, were regarded as mutants, viewed with a mixture of dread and disdain. We were deemed animals, murderers, and beasts. Until now, I had never really questioned these perceptions because I simply didn't care. But something had shifted, and I now found myself plagued with these troubling inquiries.

The room's silence was only interrupted by the rhythmic ticking of a clock, each second accentuating my confusion and unease. The mystery surrounding my mother's death remained unresolved, as did Nate's deep concerns. And now, Jasmin's mother appeared to be entwined in this enigma, watching me from the shadows.

Rosa's voice pierced through the fog of my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "If you keep hesitating, you'll squander your precious time, Lizzy," she warned. I blinked and inhaled deeply, a concerted effort to clear the clutter from my mind.

"Sorry," I stammered, my voice raspy, before I reconnected with her intense grey eyes.

Her raised eyebrow mirrored her concern. "Try to remember the surroundings... What was it like?"

We had been confined to this cramped room for what felt like an eternity, attempting to decipher the riddle concealed within my vision after I donned the mysterious necklace. The eerie settings were a blur, elusive to my memory.

"I've already described it... It was an open space amidst the conflagration of burning houses. Sandors gestured toward that foreboding grey stone structure near the edge of the darkened woods. Then, I saw them-four elusive figures caught in a never-ending cycle of repetition," I concluded, pointing to a piece of paper where Rosa had diligently transcribed the Latin phrase.

We had revisited this event for the third time in a row. Rosa had already laid out numerous books, desperately searching for any shred of clues within their pages. Her eyes darted from page to page as she scoured the texts.

The entire situation had devolved into a bewildering maze. My visions only served to compound the confusion. Rosa's agitation didn't offer any solace either; it seemed as though she was more distressed than I was. I couldn't help but believe that she might possess some inkling of what all this entailed.

"Do you think I should visit the ruins?" I asked her cautiously. Rosa snapped her gaze back to me, her eyes locking onto mine.

"That's the last thing I'd ever consider," Rosa replied with abrupt finality, and then she allowed a contemplative silence to linger. "It's far too perilous to set foot in those lands. The Black Mountain Pack has guarded them for as long as my memory serves me," she cautioned, her tone offering no reassurance.

The Black Mountain Pack, one of the northernmost packs in our territory, earned its name from its location nestled at the base of the eponymous mountain, renowned for its rich coal reserves. The pack's primary exports were derived from the laborious extraction and trade of this valuable resource.