Page 29 of Blood of the Fallen
“I never knew how… they killed the initiates. I suspected a few things but was never sure. This information confirms my fears, though.”
Blinking rapidly, I met her dark gaze. Her expression was a combination of horror and anger.
“What fears?” I asked, not expecting any sort of answer from her.
To my surprise, she didn’t hold back. “As you well know, when the colonists first settled here, they brought with them their fears and superstitions about our kind. But that wasn’t all the baggage they carried with them. They also brought their old spells and curses. They created them because, without magic, they were helpless against us. The spells steal our power. You already know how the codas work, how they use them to bind our magic. It’s not an easy process. They have to do it slowly, inking the tattoo one section at a time each year. And finally, when it’s complete, our shifting magic becomes nothing but cheap tricks of electricity and fire.”
The only kind of magic that the magistrates were capable of.
“What about the witches and mages that they take?” I asked.
“They apply the same spells. The same coda. They can’t allow anyone to have too much power, so the wide array of things that witches and mages can do gets reduced to nothing.” She thought for a moment, then continued. “But there is something that has always bothered me. You see, when a wolf or any other supernatural is caged for too long, they become weak. Yet, as the magistrates age, their powers remain unchanged.”
My mind whirled with different implications. Some were so horrible that I didn’t let them take full shape.
The Chieftess interlaced her fingers. “I can see by your reaction that you have a few guesses as to how they managed to keep their strength steady. Want to venture a guess?”
“They… they take it from the initiates they kill,” I said, my voice trembling.
Chieftess Yura gave a curt nod. “There is power in water and blood. Life, renewal, recycle.”
I shook my head, images of my friends’ blood coloring the hot spring violently flashing before my eyes.
“Breathe slowly, Sheela.” The Chieftess reached out to touch me but stopped before making contact.
I stared at her tapered fingers and shrank away from her, realizing that I was hyperventilating. I clenched my fists and claws dug into my palms. The pain brought me back to the moment, and I managed to slow my breathing.
“What you went through,” the Chieftess spoke slowly as if giving me time to recover, “it must’ve been traumatizing. I’m sorry that happened. I’m sorry… I wasn’t able to prevent it.”
As overwhelmed as I felt, her apology managed to surprise me and pull my focus from the anguish and rage this new revelation caused.
“The day they took you… I should’ve fought harder.” She stared at the burning embers in the pit, a faraway expression weighing her features.
I didn’t dare make a sound for fear of interrupting her.
“That day,” she went on, “so many of our pack died, so many parents and grandparents trying to save their children. We had gone across Blackcrest to trade with the witches. Too late we found out the magistrates were out in force, desperate for new recruits. We killed some of them, but we were outnumbered. They had a batch of new magistrates, hungry for blood.
“Ila ran and hid with you while your father and I fought. He and I had gotten separated when I heard Ila scream. They’d torn you from her arms and were dragging both of you away. I ran and killed the guard who had Ila. I ordered her to shift, run, and hide. Then I went for the woman holding you. I’d never fought a magistrate. She was fast, and I barely managed to leap out of the way of her first magic burst. When I landed by her feet, I sank my teeth into her thigh.
“She didn’t even flinch. She just put a hand on my head and… that’s the last I remember. When I woke up, you were gone and half the pack was dead, including your father.”
She blinked and snapped out of her distant stupor. Clearing her throat, she met my gaze. “That day, I swore to destroy the Academy, but for that, I had to become Chieftess first. I accomplished that five years ago but, after that, little else. We are so few and always on the run. Then the…”
Chieftess Yura stopped and seemed to consider whether to continue, giving me the feeling that she was about to reveal something I would not like.
Still, I couldn’t help myself. “Then what?”
“Then everything changed. First came Bethel’s augury. She had just turned fifteen, that wonderful age when dreams and reality commingle, that time when witches are ripe for such things.” She paused and searched my gaze as if asking for permission to continue.
A part of me—that piece that had wished to run away and make a new life outside these lands—wanted her to stop, to not give me the burden of whatever knowledge she wanted to impart. But who was I kidding? Ihadto know. The person who had yearned to escape had burned at the pyre, and the one left behind had sworn revenge on the Academy.
“What did Bethel see?” I asked. “What was her premonition?”
I could’ve sworn that a small satisfied smile tugged the corner of the Chieftess’s mouth before she continued, “She saw the Academy turned to ashes. She saw families reunited. She saw a great leader uniting the packs, guiding them to success. She saw the one who would save our land.”
“That means you’ll accomplish your goal.”
The Chieftess shook her head. “No, not me. You, Sheela. She saw you.”
