NovelEnglishBook Two - Ch.# 43
“Breathe,” Myra said, gesturing with her hands forto inhale. “Breathe and hold it.”
We'd been at this for a few hours now, Myra doing her best to teachwhat she could. She seemed to know a
lot about how the ability worked despite not possessing it herself. Though, as she had already previously pointed
out, she’d raised a few generations of Knight children.
Truthfully, I didn’t expect to feel as comfortable around her as | did. We’d only just met but there seemed to be a
deeper connection, something that was drawingto her. A feeling of safety and reassurance in her presence,
perhaps.
“...lam,” | muttered.
“Then askfor this pen,” she said, holding it up in front of me. “Remember to dig deep inside, connect with
that spark, and pull it forward.”
| did as she instructed, doing my best to reach for it. But it was difficult, increasingly so. The more we did this,
the worse a headache was pulsing in my mind, slowly becoming worse.
| reached... and reached... and reached... and when | thought | could feel the spark, | grabbed a hold of it.
“Myra... could you please givethe pen?” | asked, trying to maintain it.
| watched as her eyes dilated for merely a second, her hand twitching towards me. However, she quickly
snapped out of it, clapping her hands to sever the link.
I'd learned this was a method of breaking the influence, the loud noise intending to startle me. Though she had
warnedthat this may not always work, especially once | becaccustomed to the abrupt distraction.
“I know you can do better than that,” she said, pursing her lips.
And | sighed in exhaustion.
“You're struggling to connect,” she noted. ” Are you holding yourself back? Don’t be afraid to rely on your wolf if
you need to. They can help if you let them.”
And | bit the inside of my cheek, uncomfortable.
“Id... rather not,” | said.
She tilted her head. “Why? What's the matter?”
“Well... we just don’t, ah... get along, | suppose,” | admitted.
“But you're the sperson?” she said, as if it should have been obvious. “Your wolf is just an extension of
yourself.”
And yet | hated that creature with a passion.
“If you are warring with your wolf, Rheyna, then it just tellsyou have a lot of conflict inside. To hate her is to
hate yourself. And to put blon her for something she did is merely a method of scapegoating her for your
own mistakes, your own guilt.”
I let her words sink in, unsure how to feel.
...Could that really be true? I guess | had blamed the beast for most of my problems despite my own actions
being not much better. Anything it had done, | had technically done as well.
My struggle was born out of fear, out of anxiety that things would go wrong if I allowed it even an inch. It was out
of a hatred for losing control... out of feeling a painful longing for things | missed.
“How about trying... an emotional stimulus,” she then said, makinglook up confused.
She held a finger to her chin as if she were thinking.
“Aria had trouble with her wolf also. She once toldthat she learnt how to use her ability by using emotional
energy,” she continued. “This is why stressful situations tend to heighten the effect. Perhaps try thinking of
something that conveys a strong emotional response for you... then hold onto it as you go again.”
The only strong emotion | was feeling right now was immense defeat and a keen desire for a relaxing bubble
bath... but | doubted that would be good enough for this exercise.
And so | paused to think a little deeper.
| had no shortage of emotionally charged memories. I'd lived through enough pain, fear and heartbreak to last
own protection.
Though... | guess there were smore recent events that could work....
“Think... then breathe,” Myra instructed. ” Hold it in your chest and concentrate. Connect.”
Connect. Right. Okay.
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Connecting deep inside myself... to the newer emotions surrounding my there....
Something that simply caused my headache to worsen, but | pushed through it.
“...Can | please have the pen?” | asked.
Only... it cout flat.
“Hold it, Rheyna!” Myra instructed sternly.
And she shoved her hand roughly against my chest, almost forcing the air out of my lungs as a crease formed
between her brows. | knew she was just trying to help illicit an emotional response from me.
“You're not concentrating enough.”
| thought about my there, about my connection to Myra. How she felt somewhat like a mother figure,
something I'd never known. A gap in my life being filled without even realising it had been sorely missing.
“...Please... givethe pen,” | repeated, gritting my teeth.
“No,” she replied, and shoved her hand againstonce more, clearly not convinced. “Try harder.”
And so | dug deeper, to the feelings | was suppressing.
To the pain of being abandoned... to the anguish of having to grow up alone....
...To the jealousy over Clarissa, that she had been allowed to grow up with someone who treated her with love
and kindness. To the betrayal that Myra had chosen her over her own blood.
“...Givethe pen.”
Tears were starting to sting at my eyes now, but | did my best to hold on to the emotions, hoping that this was
enough.
And, finally, Myra seemed to hesitate. Only if slightly.
Her body paused, a confusion coming over her... but it still wasn’t enough.
| needed more... | needed to push past the barrier in my head... to grab a hold of the deepest corners of my
mind.
...And | saw flashes of memories as I did so.
Memories that made no sense.
Of blood... of wolves... of a night filled with stars above.
And running.
So much running.
“Givethe pen,” | huffed, unable to stop the tears from flowing now. “Give it to me, Myra.”
Her hand twitched towards me, ever so slowly....
“Givethe pen, Myra!” | yelled.
...And she finally gavewhat I'd asked for.
“Of course,” she said, her voice in a dreamy state. “Whatever you want.”
But I'd dug into something inside that went beyond anything I'd intended to, the memories starting to flash with
more frequency. Just still images that perplexed me, snippets that | couldn't piece together.
But... | could feel it. Feel the emotion instilled within it.
And it was unbearable. All stemming from the memory... one where...
“...Don’t leave me,” | cried. “Promiseyou won't stay behind.”
| wasn’t sure who | was talking to anymore but Myra’s expression changed to one of confusion, the influence
clearly still working but the context of the request unclear.
“What do you mean?” she then asked.
...And | blinked.
At the sound of her question, | blinked and pulled myself out of the memory, my body now shaking
uncontrollably.
Too far. I'd gone too far.
| knew now that there was a barrier there for a reason, things | didn’t want to recall. And as retribution for this
carelessness, the excruciating pulse of the headache only becworse.
| took a moment to breathe and then, slowly, | looked back up towards Myra, finding her still quietly watching me
in a daze.
It had worked. Maybe too well. An accomplishment in itself given how resistant she was to being influenced.
It was uncomfortable to see her like this, to be completely docile and willing to do anything | asked. In the wrong
hands, an ability like this could be used for terrible things.
The kind of uses my father would make quick work of utilising. | knew that adding this to my already fatal skillset
would only make the damage | could create far worse.
A cost maybe too great.
...And, as | took one final look at Myra... | proceeded to clap my hands.
“Oh... what?” she said, coming back to reality. “Did it work?”
She looked around the room, getting her bearings before finally focusing on my face.
“Rheyna? What's wrong? Oh... you're bleeding,” she said, and began to fuss overwith a tissue, dabbing it
against my nose.
I didn’t move as she worked, instead choosing to further calm myself down.
“Don’t try to force it so much,” she scolded. “You'll learn how to use it eventually. It takes practice. These things
aren't overnight.”
She didn’t seem to have any memory of what had just happened, much to my relief, but it still didn’t make me
feel better overall.
It was clear that this had more potential for harm than | ever realised.
“...I don’t think I'll be training this anymore,” | announced. “I appreciate your help though.”
She looked instantly taken aback, her hand freezing. “What? Why? Rheyna-.”
“Raven,” | said quietly. “I go by Raven these days. It’s... fitting.”
| expected her to ask more about it but, instead, her expression becconfused before slowly spreading into a
small smile.
“With all the beauty from your Sullivan mother and the Knight eyes of your father,” she said. “I'm almost sad
that you don’t take afterat all, but... it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Just like that nicknof yours.”
“Myra...?”
“Your maternal great-great-grandmother sat upon the original Council as well,” she continued. “She hailed from
the Hidden
Moon pack, situated in the east. By far one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen.
And, just like the rest of us, the people forcefully assigned her a nicknupon joining....”
She then stood up and retrieved a book from the bookcase, bringing it over to showa picture inside. It
contained the four faces I recalled from the painting in Ashwood, Myra’s unchanged one included, but also two
other individuals that were new.
...0ne of which looked a lot like... me.
“The Silver Saintess, The Handler...,” Myra said pointing them all out. “The Siren... The Angel of Death.” Myra
had sighed before saying her own, clearly unhappy with it. ” And then The Spider, who was Elder Luke Hastings...
and The Raven.”
“...The Raven?”
“Iris Sullivan,” she said. “With pitch-black hair as dark as a raven’s wing and all the intelligence to match it. Your
great-great- grandmother. She was a vital person in the establishment of the Silver Mist but, after her father
passed, she did eventually return hto lead as Alpha there.”
| stared at her picture, the resemblance unquestionable.
“...Did Iris hurt people?” | asked cautiously. ”
A raven is... it’s a symbol of death.”
But Myra simply placed a hand on my shoulder, makinglook up.
“A raven is a symbol of change. After all, that is all death is anyway. It is the end of one thing... and the
beginning of something new, something better. A rebirth. Iris lived her life completely devoted to seeing the
revolution of our kind. The death of the old regime.”
A symbol of... change?
This was my first thearing this interpretation. I'd always associated it with the worst qualities of myself,
using the nas both a justification and a reminder of who | was.
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“Don’t fear yourself... and don’t allow people to label you,” she said. “You are exactly whoever you say you are.
No one else has the power to tell you otherwise.”
| wanted to reciprocate her smile, but it cout more like a twitch of my lip, my heart not really in it.
“We continue tomorrow,” Myra said, noticing my exhaustion. “Rest for now.”
And | was grateful for the reprieve.
After she left, | continued to stare at the photo of the council, questions continuing to swirl.
Questions like... did my mother also look like Iris then? Were there photos of her and my father somewhere in
this ghost town?
And then another thought crept in, one | hadn't considered yet...
...Did this mean my mother’s family was still alive? Hailing from the Hidden Moon?
...Or were they also destroyed due to their alliance?
It was a lot of information and entirely too much to process for now. Perhaps something for another day.
...And, slowly, | closed the book.
It was very late when | awoke once more.
Just like the night prior, it was completely dark outside, the world feeling still as I laid in the strange bed.
| tossed and turned for stime, agitated, but | couldn't seem to shake the feeling of discomfort. Something
that ultimately ledto decide on getting sfresh air to soothe my tension.
...And | headed out the bedroom door once more.
However, unlike the day before, there did seem to be one key difference on this evening.
...It wasn’t so quiet.
“Rheyna... Rheyna...,” someone called out, over and over again.
The voice was coming from down the hall, approximately in the direction | remembered Clarissa’s room to be.
Was she calling for me...?
| approached slowly, following the sound all the way until I found myself outside her door. And it was here that |
opened it.... finding her inside.
“Clarissa?” | asked hesitantly. “Was that you yelling my name?”
She heaved herself up and coughed a few times. “Where the hell have you been?” she snapped. “I was waiting
for you all of last night.”
“I'm sorry...? Did you ask Myra to seeor something...? | wasn’t told.”
But her eyes simply narrowed at me, her frown deepening. “What? No... we...."”
And then something seemed to hit her, a realisation spreading across her face.
“Wait... you really don’t remember me... do you?”
| tried to recall back to my childhood but unfortunately cup blank. | truly didn’t have any idea who she was.
“Ah... no... I'm sorry,” | said. “My memories are a bit faded. | don’t remember much from when | used to live
here. Were we friends?”
Though this seemed to be the wrong thing to say, her face somehow looking even paler than before as her eyes
turned to the ground.
“So... if she doesn't...,” she mumbled almost inaudibly, talking to herself. “Then....”
And her gaze then snapped back up to mine, now wide with panic.
“The guard!” she abruptly blurted out, makingflinch. “The guard who stopped you at the Silent Forest's gate.
Was it a man with blonde hair or brown? What method did you use so he'd let you in?”
“W-what? What are you talking about?” | stuttered, taking a step back. “How do you
“FUCKING TELL ME, RHEYNA,” she screamed, an urgency in her voice unlike anything I'd heard before. “DID YOU
PERSUADE HIM OR-.”
But her sentence was cut short.
Because in the eerie silence of the destroyed town, a place where not even a mouse dared to squeak... it was
then that the sound of inhabitants loudly filled the air.
...The call of wolves howling in the distance. And it didn’t sound so friendly.
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