Spellbound

The Wolf

Water thrashes destructively against the jagged rock I stand upon. Trapped, with nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Waves crashing on top of me, until finally, I fall.

The water is cold and unforgiving, pulling me to its depths. My hands reach for the surface—I scream for him, over and over until water fills my lungs—He can't hear me...

"Dad!"

I wake in a cold sweat, the intense hammering of my heart fills my chest with pain. I look for him, but he's not here. I don't even know where here is.

It takes a few moments to remember. The tiny swirling stars above my head remind me; Alexandra Castle. They twinkle above me, but not through a skylight. Small, enchanted, orbs of light similar to, yet more beautiful than my plastic glow in the dark ones back home—I'm here. I'm safe.

The whole castle is silent, eerily so. I pinch the skin on my upper arm to be certain I'm not dreaming. Definitely not dreaming.

Something stirs inside me. A feeling I can't describe in words. An emptiness of sorts—but not like the emptiness that comes from my father's death. It feels more like a missing piece. I squeeze my eyes shut and beg for my exhaustion to get the better of me—but it never happens...The walls of the castle vibrate around me, daring me to follow them. I give in.

The castle is empty. Silent. With each step I take, another blue light flickers to guide my path. I reach the top of the staircase but decide to keep moving forward, following the whispers of the castle and the feeling inside of me. All I know for certain is that something is calling to me—

The marble is cool beneath my bare feet, but I'm not cold at all. I'm driven. I move with a purpose I didn't realise I had and trust that I'm being lead where I need to go.

Along the hallway are more crystallised sculptures, but of people instead of creatures. There are doors on either side of me. Some wooden, some marble, and some pure crystal. I'm not brave enough to enter any of them, and even if I was, this isn't the time. I walk with purpose, never turning off in another direction, until eventually, there's nowhere else to go.

My feet stop when I reach the dead end. The darkest part of the castle I've seen, especially in the middle of the night. The air is cold and sends shivers down my spine—That's enough. I turn on my heel back towards the safety of my room, ready to hide beneath the covers and ignore whatever the hell this feeling is—but I can't move.

A voice in my head says to turn left. I don't. I start moving back towards my room. My legs fall from under me and I crash—searing pain shoots through my skull burning me from the inside out. My lungs burn but no screams escape me. Sweat pools on my forehead as I twitch in silent agony waiting for it to be over—and then it is.

The night quiets around me once more as I lie upon the cold stone. Knots form in my stomach uncomfortably, but bearable as I lift myself from the floor. When the voice returns, I listen.

My head still throbs, but I let my feet carry me without questioning it. They stop when I come to a sealed door, unlike any others I've come across. This door is meant to keep something out—or something in.

I look through the small window, but there's nothing. Only darkness. I fiddle with the door handle, but it's locked.

Whatever lies behind this door is calling to me, it vibrates through my skin. I'm close.

I push both my hands out and try to force the door open, not surprisingly, it doesn't budge. I clench my fists in anger until they tingle—until they burn. Memories of giants with crimson skin and blisters swim in my mind—my hands did that.

I place both hands on the lock sealing the door shut. An internal force moves through me, I feel stronger—powerful. My body shakes, and my palms sting as smoke rises beneath them, I push even harder into the burning metal. Agony takes over my whole body—but I won't stop. I take my burning fist and smash it into the door, over and over.

Orange flames rise from my flesh and I stop. The pain vanishes. None of this is normal.

It takes a second, but the lock finally falls from its place and parts the door open just slightly. I wait, breathless. My chest rises and falls as I stare at my newly blistered hands. Red, raw, painful. There is no logical explanation to this. To any of this. But I can't stop to think about that now.

I push through the door and into the small room—I'm not alone. A blue flame flickers behind me, and that's when I see it—something small, curled up in the corner, covered in white fur. A tiny face looking up at me. I stare into its grey-blue eyes. A wolf. A tiny white wolf. My heart pounds in my chest, but the fear doesn't belong to me. It belongs to her. She's terrified. It courses through my veins as if it were my own.

I crouch down beside her. I have no reason to be afraid, because I know she isn't going to hurt me—I just don't know how I know. I place my hand on her back, she doesn't even flinch. Her fur is thick and soft as I brush it with my fingertips, without any explanation, I simply say, "Fox?"

Her ears prick up when I say it, confirming what I already know inside me.

"Your name is Fox." I smile.

It suits her. She's a wolf, undoubtedly; yet, no bigger than a fox.

She's too groggy to move, sedated probably. Most likely being kept for tests or experiments—but I know I'm only assuming the worst—yet I know inside of me, I'm not wrong.

"You!" I hear the low voice from the other side of the room.

My body trembles as the booming voice reverberates throughout the room. I rise from my place slowly and find myself staring into unknown black eyes. Eyes with wisdom like Amethyst's, on a lean and pointed face. The tips of his ears, pointed.

"Back away—slowly," his tone is harsh.

I stare down to the terrified wolf. I don't want to leave her—I can't, but I have to. I walk slowly towards the man clothed in black robes. His face plastered with suspicion. He grabs my arm as I near him and pulls me from the room. With a wave of his hand, the door seals itself once more.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!" His voice echoes all the way down the corridor. His stare, cold and angry.

The anger inside of me is louder than my fear, "Why is she sedated?!"

This startles him. It startles me too. He stares down at me, studying me, trying to figure me out. Good luck with that. If I can't do it, he can't.

"Do you have any idea who you are speaking to?" His lips purse.

Maybe he is someone I ought to know, but it doesn't change the fact, that no, I have no idea who the hell I'm talking to—but neither does he.

"She's frightened." I tell him, calming myself, hoping that by doing so, he will calm down too.

"She is a Wardovian Wolf." He spits, as if I have any idea what that means. He must sense my confusion, "Exactly who are you?"

At this point, there's no point trying to talk my way of this. That's never been a strength of mine.

"Philly Hurst."

He tenses at the mention of my name and the air around us shifts. He regains his composure, but remains cold as ever. His anger lingers and seeps through my skin.

"Do not meddle in things you do not understand, Philomena Hurst." He says my name through gritted teeth as though trying to be even this pleasant with me—and pleasant is being generous—is leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. "This area is restricted. Promise you will not come back here."

He doesn't trust me. I suppose he'd be right not to trust me, because even as I grit my own teeth and say, "I promise," I already intend on breaking it.