Page 26 of Wolf Proclaimed

After a few days of travel, we neared the peak of Magic Mountain. We were met by a situation I'd hardly anticipated. Petra's guards, imposing and stern, blocked our path. Their body language was hostile, their eyes glinting with suspicion as they stared us down. A cold shiver ran down my spine. It was a harsh welcome from the pack that was supposed to be my family.

Beside me, Bastian bristled, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the guards. I almost felt the raw energy radiating off him, his alpha instincts kicking in as he sensed the hostility.

"What brings you here, Bastian?" One of the guards challenged, his tone thick with disdain.

"We're here to see Petra," Bastian's voice rang out, calm but firm.

A tense silence stretched out before us. I glanced up at Bastian, my heart pounding in my chest. His face was composed, but I could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched at his sides. This was not the welcome he had expected, and I knew his mind was buzzing with concern for me.

"And why would Petra want to see you?" the guard retorted, his gaze flicking to me with thinly veiled hostility.

"Because," Bastian said, his voice steady as he placed a protective hand on my shoulder, "she wants to visit her sisters."

At those words, the guards' expressions shifted, surprise replacing hostility. They exchanged glances before stepping aside to confer and told Bastian and me to wait. Bastian leaned in, whispering, "I'm sorry, Mira. I didn't expect them to react like this. I should have prepared you better."

His words were a soft murmur meant for my ears only. My heart ached at the guilt that laced his voice. But amidst the shock and confusion, his support, his steady presence beside me, grounded me. "It's not your fault, Bastian," I said quietly.

His grip on my shoulder tightened momentarily, a silent affirmation.

We were left standing outside the intricate wooden gates of Petra's village, the air around us thick with anticipation. Bastian's hand was still resting on my shoulder, his touch an anchor amidst the swelling uncertainty. Though out of sight, the guards' hushed whispers drifted to us on the wind.

"She was mad last time," one of them muttered, his voice laced with suspicion. "Who knows what she's capable of now."

My breath hitched. Were they speaking about me? Had I been...mad? A chill swept through me. The past I was striving to uncover grew more haunting with every revelation.

"I heard tell, Gretel told Petra and the others…” another voice said, softer than the first. “… Mira has lost her memory. Reckon it's true?"

Their words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. I glanced up at Bastian, my eyes wide with apprehension. His expression was grave. His gaze focused on the gates. He seemed just as surprised as I was at the revelations unfolding.

"There's no harm in letting them in," the first guard grumbled. "If anything goes awry, we have orders to..."

His words faded into an unintelligible murmur, drowned by the sudden creaking of the gates. I felt Bastian's grip on my shoulder tighten. He gave me a reassuring nod, his eyes meeting mine. "Remember," he whispered, "whatever you hear, whatever happens, I've got your back, Mira."

As the gates swung open, revealing the heart of Petra's village, I took a deep breath. Then as we were led through the village, we crossed paths with a woman of striking beauty. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, and her piercing eyes seemed to size us up instantly. She approached us, her steps unhurried yet relentless, and her gaze focused on Bastian.

"What are you doing here, Bastian?" she asked, her voice clear and commanding. Her tone held no malice, but I felt an edge of suspicion that matched her intense scrutiny.

Before Bastian could respond, I interjected, "Who are you?"

She turned her gaze to me, and she seemed taken aback for a moment. Then, she introduced herself with a sigh that was a strange mix of relief and regret. "I am Jezebel, your sister."

My heart fluttered at the words—another sister. The word sounded alien, yet it sent a jolt of recognition through me. I was about to respond when Jezebel's eyes widened, and she turned on her heel, rushing towards a cluster of nearby tents. "Petra!" she called out, her voice filled with urgency. "Mira is here!"

The news spread like wildfire, whispers echoing through the village as we were led deeper into its heart. I could feel the eyes of the villagers on us, their gazes filled with curiosity and caution.

Bastian's hand found mine, his grip firm yet comforting. As we approached Petra's tent, my heart pounded in my chest. I was about to meet my sisters face-to-face. I was about to confront a part of my past that held more questions than answers.

The inside of Petra's tent was spacious and warm, glowing with the soft light of a dozen lit lanterns. At the sight of us, Petra rose from where she was seated, her eyes lighting up with a warmth that felt alien and familiar.

"Mira," she breathed out, her voice choked with emotion. I stood frozen as she strode up to me, pulling me into a fierce embrace. "We've missed you," she murmured into my shoulder.

I looked over at Bastian, my mind spinning from the suddenness of it all. He offered me a small, reassuring smile, a silent encouragement. And so, I let myself be led into the circle of sisters I could not remember.

They introduced themselves one by one: Jezebel, with her piercing gaze and quiet intensity; Syriah, a spark of mischief in her eyes; Artemis, her smile serene and welcoming. Petra, their apparent leader, sat at the head of the table, her gaze constantly flickering to me, a mix of joy and concern on her face.

Gretel and Luna, sitting off to one side, soon joined us, completing the circle. A grand feast was laid before us, the spread a testament to the unexpected celebration of my return.

We ate and talked, their voices washing over me, a symphony of familiarity and strangeness. Their stories were shared with laughter and the occasional tear, painting a picture of a past I was beginning to piece together.

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