Page 28 of Wolf Proclaimed

On these shelves sat an array of potion bottles, vials, and jars, each filled with distinctively colored mixtures and lined meticulously. Labels ranged from simple herbal names to exotic, almost fantastical monikers. I sniffed the air, picking up hints of rosemary, sage, lavender, and various scents I couldn't quite name. "It smells like... magic," I said, my voice a murmur in the silence of the cave.

Exploring further, I was drawn towards a wooden table scattered with scrolls, quills, and open grimoires. Illustrations of herbs, animals, and symbols—all intricately detailed—were depicted on the worn-out parchment. I found myself mesmerized by the vivid drawings that seemed to dance under the candlelight. "Enchanting," I breathed, my fingers delicately skimming the detailed etchings.

One such grimoire, its pages filled with detailed notes about spells, incantations, and rituals, arrested my attention. A lump formed in my throat as I stared at an open page—it discussed a memory spell. "Memory spell?" I questioned aloud, the words sounding alien as they bounced off the cave walls. My mind was a whirlpool of implications, and my heart pounded furiously against my chest.

I was so engrossed in the myriad of enigmatic artifacts that I barely registered the faint noise at the entrance. Snapping out of my daze, I spun around to find four wolf forms at the doorway. My heartbeat quickened, drumming an uneven rhythm in my chest as I faced the familiar figures.

I stood frozen as the wolves transformed before my eyes, their fur giving way to human skin. The only sound was my ragged breath.

The sight of Syriah, Petra, Jezebel, and Artemis was overwhelming. Each was unique, so individual, yet bound together by a thread of unmistakable familial resemblance.

Despite the shocking circumstances, none of them looked angry or resentful. Instead, they looked patient, understanding. Their eyes held a mixture of regret, concern, and even a hint of hope. It was as if they had not come to confront me but rather to help guide me on this confusing path to rediscovering who I was—seeing them brought about a rush of emotions that left me breathless, my mind teetering on the edge of hope and fear.

My gaze flickered back to the cave walls, and what I saw next caught me completely off-guard—dozens of sketches of me. Every corner of the cave was adorned with drawings capturing my growth from a small child to a woman. There were images of me laughing, crying, playing—vivid and full of life.

I spun around, my eyes darting from one sketch to the next. The attention to detail was astonishing, as if every curve, every line, every dimple had been etched with an affectionate hand. "Wh-what is this place?" I stuttered, my voice barely above a whisper. My pulse pounded in my ears as I tried to make sense of it all.

Reaching out, I traced a sketch of myself as a young girl, my face beaming with a child's innocence and joy. "Who drew these?" I asked and looked at my sisters, my gaze pleading for answers.

Instead of responding, they gestured towards the cabin's corner, where a cluttered desk was covered in old books and loose papers. I walked over, my eyes widening as I picked up a journal. The pages were filled with handwritten notes about spells. Their edges weathered with age.

Seeing one particular entry gave me pause—it was a memory spell. "Is this... is this related to what happened to me?" I asked, fear and hope mingled in my voice. But again, they remained silent, their eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions that I couldn't decipher.

The uncertainty, the unanswered questions—they were suffocating. But amidst the chaos, there was one thing I was sure of: I needed answers. And I was going to get them, one way or another. "I need the truth," I declared, locking my eyes with theirs, "Whatever it is... I can handle it."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with unshed tears. As I looked at the women before me—my sisters—I felt a yearning so intense it nearly brought me to my knees. I was desperately grasping at the straws of a past I had no memory of, a past they seemed to hold the keys to.

"Please," I began, my voice cracking under the weight of my desperation, "I need to know. I need to remember. Tell me about my past. About us. About... me."

Tears streamed down my face, unchecked and unfettered. There was a desperate plea in my eyes, a plea for truth, for memories lost. The cabin filled with a heavy silence, each of us lost in the gravity of the moment.

I saw a flurry of emotions flit across their faces—regret, concern, and a hint of sorrow. Petra broke the silence first, "Mira, we..."

She paused, her gaze meeting each of her sisters before returning to me. "We...we don't have all the answers you seek. We share the same father, but we...we had different mothers."

The revelation was so shocking that its words bounced off the cabin walls... Different mothers? The information was new and unexpected, stirring something within me. A million questions bubbled up, each more pressing than the last. Yet, out of the chaos, one question rose above all.

"Our father...who was he?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. The words hung in the air like a ghost, carrying with them the weight of the past I yearned to unearth.

Once again, the silence stretched between us. Then, it was Syriah who finally broke it. Her gaze met mine, a strange mix of grit and softness reflected in her eyes.

"Our father," she began, her voice wavering slightly, "Was the alpha of the pack that once ruled over Magic Mountain."

Alpha? Was my father an alpha? A ruler? A leader of a pack? The revelation hit me like a punch, leaving me momentarily breathless. All this time, I had been struggling to remember my past, and with each new revelation, the picture was becoming increasingly intricate. A daughter of an alpha, a sister to these strong women, yet all of it was obscured behind a frustrating fog of lost memories.

But for the first time, since my journey began, I felt a flicker of hope. I wasn't just lost in the woods; I was uncovering a past steeped in strength and leadership. Despite the lingering confusion, I could sense the tendrils of a bond rekindling with my sisters, the same bond that seemed to hint at a path to uncovering my obscured past.

In that magical cabin, surrounded by remnants of a life I had forgotten and the sisters I had just found, I felt a semblance of home—a fleeting sense of belonging. As the reality of my lineage began to sink in, I could only hope this was the first step towards piecing together the puzzle of my lost past.

Jezebel spoke up, saying, "Destiny can be amusing. It guides you on a journey until you reach your predetermined destination."

A soft smile touched her lips, the first I had seen since our reunion.

"Destiny, huh?" Artemis echoed thoughtfully. "If destiny brought us together, then it must also be destiny that separates us, no?"

"You mean us ruling our respective territories?" Petra asked, her brow furrowed in thought.

Artemis nodded. "We were always meant to rule, to be alphas. Perhaps Mira's return is the missing piece we've been waiting for."

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