Fate
So…it’s been awhile. Like, a long while.
I’m rewriting A Fate You Can’t Escape because it was my favorite project, but I’ve lost all my notes and files. So here we are. A rewrite, revamp, reimagining.
I hope you all enjoy this and have the same enthusiasm you were awesome enough to give me with (what there was of) the original.
CeceVolume
PROLOGUE
A howl echoed through the woods, breaking the serenity the night of the full moon had to offer. A chilling wind blew, drawing up the leaves on the forest floor to whirl around. The river rushed through somewhere to the west, a warning to any who knew to heed its call.
Never had he felt so at home.
Running through the trees, he relished the feel of everything around him, embraced the wild nature he had so long kept hidden. Never had he been so free to do something he loved so much, nor had he felt such a wild rush of hope and relief. Even if he was to die tonight, he would hold no regrets so long as he could savor this moment, this feeling in the halls of Valhalla.
The now familiar scent of wolves grew stronger as well as the sounds of their howls and he wanted to join in their song, wanted them to welcome him as a member of the pack. For too long he had not belonged, would never belong outside of this place. Only just that night had he found out his true nature and he had felt peace for the first time in his life.
He had a home, a place where they would have him as one of their own. And it had been so close. For years, just beyond the forest outside their tiny village, his true family.
His mother had always told him to beware the place because monsters resided there, terror growing in her eyes as the years passed. A woman of Esther’s power balking at the idea of taking on the beasts had him on edge.
But the time for that was over. No longer did he have to fear what lurked in the woods.
He was one of them.
Insert Break
“Stop,” he begged. “Please, don’t hurt him anymore.”
His voice was broken, barely audible to human ears, but they heard him perfectly. And laughed. He wanted to fight the chains shackling him to the cave wall, held in place by stakes that went three feet deep.
But even before they’d brought Henrik in, he’d been so weak. The torture he’d endured…at his own people’s hands…how long would he be able to withstand the onslaught? What could have been mere days or several weeks should have broken him, should have killed him. He’d been so close to letting go, to letting the darkness overtake him.
Then he’d smelt his brother—half brother. Long before he’d seen or heard him, he’d been caught the scent of fear and blood. It had renewed what little energy he had. When he’d heard Henrik’s labored breathing and the tell tale catch in his voice as he pleaded with them for answers, wanting to know why they had stolen him in the middle of the night, he’d thought he might actually be able to break free from the bonds on adrenaline alone.
When they’d brought him straight to his feet….
“Nik, please.” His eyes returned to his brother’s tear and blood-soaked face at the sound of the young man’s voice, knowing the end was near for the young man. Even if he was the same as him, he’d never survive his injuries; he was so young, so fragile. “Please, help me.”
Roaring, he fought with a new vigor, feeling the chains break his skin. What was more blood spilt? What was his life in turn for Henrik’s? He had been the one to go in with hope in his heart when there was every reason to fear the monsters in the dark. He had thought to find a place to rest and had only led an innocent soul to hell.
A wolf stepped forward, naked in his human form. Planting a foot in the young boy on the floor’s back, he said casually, “A true wolf would do whatever necessary to protect his pack, yet the weakest of yours is so close to death. You struggle and spit, but show no loyalty, no honor. A lowly cur, not strong enough to join the king’s men.” A quiet chuckle rose through the group of wolves that surrounded them, the scent of ridicule filling the cavern.
“Let me loose,” Niklaus rasped, baring fangs as his irises blazed yellow, his inner beast scratching under his skin to be freed. “And I will show you my strength. Release the boy and fight me.”
With a laugh, the older wolf said, “Why should I do that? His father—your mother’s husband—has killed many of our kind because of some mortal vendetta. He knows nothing of the Lore or what he is toying with. So why should I release either of his worthless pups?”
Before he or anyone else could respond, a hush blew threw the cavern, deafening after the constant movements. It was as if the sky itself were pressing down on the small area, drawing everyone’s breaths from their bodies.
Barely able to hold up his head, he could just make out the silhouette of a large man against the moonlight at the mouth of the cave. He seemed to take up the entire space that could easily allow two grown men to pass side by side. If he was any taller, his head would probably scrape the top of the entrance.
He commanded the attention of all without saying a word.
Without a word, he strode through the parting group, stopping just at Henrik’s feet, but his attention was on Niklaus, a look of knowing on his face.
Now that he was closer, the bound man could make out the features of his hard face. A strong jaw clenched tight, one blue eye gone milky where three severe scars tore through it. Red brown hair fell shaggily down to his shoulders, messy curls brushing the collar of the furs covering his body.
His lip lifted in a snarl when, eyes still on Niklaus, he turned his head to the wolf standing on Henrik. “Release him.”
Immediately, the wolf and two others were pulling him free, letting him drop to the ground. No hesitation, no questioning.
This man was the king of the beasts.
As Niklaus hit the floor on all fours, it took everything he had to hold himself up on his shaky arms. He wanted to stand, to look this man in the eyes, but he feared his legs would give out, showing weakness. “Return my brother to our mother and I will do whatever you ask,” he said, barely keeping his voice from breaking; there was no place for weakness here.
The king tilted his head, but moved no more than that. “You risk your life for the whelp of the man who has killed so many of your own kind? Even though he will clearly never do the same for you?” Finally, the man looked down to Henrik, toeing him with his bare feet to roll him over. “He’s barely more than a child,” he muttered, though Niklaus wasn’t sure if the disgust was for Henrik or his own wolves.
“If he dies, Mikael will come for you,” he answered, trying to shakily push to his feet. “Mikael will tear your entire pack apart just for taking him. Bartering his release may protect you.”
A rumble went through the crowd but the king swiftly put up his hand to stop it. “I am not afraid of the mortal. It is his wife that worries me.” The word came out like acid off his tongue.
Shock went through Niklaus. “You know my mother, what she is?” A heavily guarded secret. Though her children knew of what she was, no one else in the village did, not even her husband. Witches were hunted, but she had hope that she had passed on to her children the power she so easily controlled.
“Of course I do. How do you think a mortal was able to kill so many immortals? How did he have the strength when my men have a beast that resides in them, the strongest creatures in the Lore?” the man questioned. “Your mother may be able to hide what she is from them, but we know.”
Unable to stop himself as curiosity reigned, Niklaus demanded, “How do you know my mother?”
There was silence for a long moment, the wolves looking amongst themselves uncomfortably. Tension filled the air as the king’s jaw worked and his good eye flashed to the same golden yellow of every wolf. Niklaus could actually see the change threatening to overtake him, rippling just beneath the skin.
One of the female wolves across the cavern finally stepped forward, snarling, “That bitch with her mortal children had the audacity—”
The king was on her in a second, snatching her throat in his large hand. Black claws grew from beneath his human nails to pierce the soft skin there. “You will not speak of your queen that way, not in my presence or out of it. No matter what she has done, she is still my mate and you will show her the respect that title demands.” Niklaus could perceive his hands clenching just enough to cut off her air, watched as she writhed against the hold, desperate to breathe. “Do you understand?”
She frantically nodded her head and he dropped her to the ground, casually strolling back to where he could face Niklaus. The younger man had finally been able to stand, but wasn’t able to stay that way for long.
Perhaps it was the surprise that kept him upright, the knowledge that his mother was this man’s mate, his queen. That meant that he was….
“Yes, you are my son,” the older wolf said easily, causing Henrik to freeze in his writhing on the floor. “The heir my mate stole from me to be raised amongst mortals.” Eyeing Niklaus skeptically, he added, “I am King Callum of the Werewolves.”
Too stunned to speak, Niklaus merely stared. This powerful monster, this king was his…father. At last he could know who had helped to create him, could know the ways of his people. Surely they wouldn’t kill their prince?
Glancing down to Henrik, Callum muttered, “And here is evidence of my mate’s betrayal; a son by another man. Even if I could overlook her other crimes against my people, this one will not stand.”
“What are you say—”
Faster than Niklaus could pose his question, the king’s heel went down on the back of Henrik’s neck, a great snap echoing through the chamber. Henrik’s heavy breathing immediately fell silent, even as Niklaus’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest.
With a cry of grief and fury, he threw himself to the prone body of his brother, no longer feeling the pain of his injuries. Clutching him to his chest, he begged him to speak to him, to say something, but Henrik’s empty eyes just stared forward.
“As my son, I am allowing you to live, to carry my message to your mother,” Callum said easily, airily. As if he hadn’t just killed a child innocent of any crime against him. “You will tell Esther that after these twenty years, my patience for her games has ended; it is time I brought my queen to heel. Any of the vermin she birthed with that mortal will befall the same fate as this one.”
Suddenly, he was there, clutching Niklaus’s chin in his hand to force him to face him. “Then you will return to me. Your mother may have tried to weaken you by raising you as a human, but I will teach you myself how to be wolf.”
The sadness that had overwhelmed him swiftly gave way to a fury he’d never felt before. All to prove something to Esther, this man had killed his beloved younger brother, threatened his other siblings in much the same breath. Even if he saw it as his mate’s betrayal, that gave Callum no right to destroy what was his.
For the first time in his life, Niklaus heard the alluring voice of his Instinct rising in his mind.
--Destroy the threat.--
Gently setting Henrik down on the cave floor, Niklaus stood above him, feeling the cracking of his bones. But this was different than the torture he’d endured; this was a relief. He would rip out the throats of all those that had dared to hurt Henrik, to make his last hours on earth filled with terror and pain. As the gods were his witness, he would kill every last wolf in that cave.
Starting with his father.
No doubt sensing the threat, men and women alike began to shift, the years of practice making the transition quicker than his. He flung out his hand to catch one, the claws growing there piercing through the creature’s neck. Without releasing his grip, he threw the body across the room, leaving him with the semblance of a throat covering his hand with blood.
“Boy—” Callum snarled, beginning to change.
“Not a boy,” Niklaus growled in return just before the full transition overtook him. “A wolf.”
Insert Break
Having scoured the woods for days, the villagers had given up hope of finding Esther’s son, Niklaus. He’d been at the mercy of the wolves for too long; there was no way he had survived within the beasts’ domain. They had watched as the family’s hope and desperation turned to grief and agony at the loss.
But for the young Henrik to go missing earlier that day made them uneasy. Were Mikael and his family being targeted by the wolves for what Mikael had done? Perhaps it was time to move on, to find another place to settle, far from the monsters of the forest. They had their own families to think of and if the wolves could get Mikael’s own children….
A cry rang out from the watch at the edge of the village, a sound of shock and awe. It was the middle of the night, yet everyone sprang to life when they heard the echoing cry, “They have returned!”
It was that sound that alerted Mikael and Esther, as well as their four remaining children, to run from their home and stare out into the woods, watching a figure stumble through the brush with a smaller body in its arms.
The family stood, watching as a few of the watchmen ran to the pair, catching the larger as he fell. Even though they tried to relieve him of the weight of the younger man, he snarled and snapped his teeth, the sound animalistic as it rang through to his family.
Esther shook as he struggled back to his feet, covering her mouth to keep from screaming or crying. There was no sign of movement from Henrik in his brother’s arms and she knew what that meant, though she wouldn’t let it become a cohesive thought.
There was no way those monsters had taken away her youngest son only to leave her with the proof of her infidelity.
Surrounding the pair, the villagers ushered them straight to their family, keeping close to Niklaus’s back as if they honestly thought they could protect him from the beasts. The wind whirled as Esther’s fear grew, her power whipping around. To her right, she felt a hand wrap her own and looked over to see her eldest son Finn silently giving her his strength even as he stared forward.
Another hand fell on her shoulder, making her glance back. There stood Elijah, stoically offering his strength as well. His arm was wrapped around her beautiful—and only—daughter Rebekah’s shoulders, holding her trembling frame to him.
On her other side stood Mikael, clearly stunned. No doubt he wondered how they had gotten away from the monsters when he himself could never have. Of course, he never saw the innate power all her children held, only what they lacked. Little did he know that she had happily molded them to fit into her plans, had intended for the bond they all shared.
Always and forever.
Kol, who had moved ahead gasped and stammered, “Nik is…he’s covered in…blood.”
Eyes widening, her attention once more went back to where her middle son was coming towards her, unable to believe what she was seeing.
He dragged the bodies of at least half a dozen wolves behind him, his naked body covered from head to toe in blood and mud. There was a savage scar across his face that was already pinkening, though it must have been so deep, based on the amount of blood there. When he was only a little way ahead of her, he dropped to his knees, gently placing Henrik on the ground before him.
Bowing his head, he murmured, “I could not save him. Callum was too quick.” Yanking the rope off his shoulder, he hefted the wolves’ bodies so they could thud to the ground before Mikael, who Niklaus now turned to. “These are the ones who captured him, the ones that came into the village. There is a dozen in the cavern where I left them.”
Going to stand before her prone son, she dropped to her knees, gently stroking Henrik’s hair out of his face. She could see the bones that had been broken, the pain he must have endured, and forgot the most important rule her mother had taught her before she’d been killed.
Never show your power.
Without a word, she cried for the power of her ancestors to bring back her little boy, to let her have her son back. She begged them to give her the magic necessary to raise him from the dead.
If there were any way to make him open his eyes, she would find it. If she had to exploit every vestigial of magic that existed, she would do it. He was just an innocent little boy who had paid for her perceived crimes against Callum, the wolf that believed she was fated for him, that she would be his and only his.
As she tried to draw more and more power from the earth, from her dead ancestors, she heard their voices in her head.
That is not how magic is meant to work. He would be an abomination. He must remain dead.
How could they forsake her?! It was not his time, nor his fault! If they were to punish someone, they should punish her. She would give her life for his!
“Mother,” Niklaus rasped from before her, “they are watching.”
Looking up to the villagers, she saw that they were captivated, completely mesmerized by the power flowing from her hands. When she looked down at her dead son, she was shocked to see more magic than she’d ever mustered exploding from her palms. She felt completely invincible, as if she could choose to change the ways of the world on a mere whim. So much power…so much strength.
Yet Henrik remained unmoving.
He has gone to the Other Side, child, she heard in her ear, making tears burn her throat. He is welcomed among us and so loved. He will be safe with us. You must let him go lest you intend to hurt him more.
Flinging herself back from him, she let out a wail that would have rivaled the Valkyrie’s. Instantly, her unharmed children swarmed her, wrapping themselves around her like the shield she’d raised them to be.
She no longer needed a shield, though. She needed weapons, something to destroy the wolves as they had destroyed her.
Her gaze went to Niklaus, her little wolf. He shuddered with the need to join, but she could see the guilt in his eyes. Henrik had been taken because of him, no doubt. Though she wasn’t meant to know, she had sensed his first change coming, had known he would run the forest soon enough. She had sent the lowly creatures to spy on his first run and they had told her when he was captured.
It had seemed like a small blessing when he’d found his true self. Either they would kill him or recruit him. Whichever came to pass, it should have meant she no longer had evidence of her betrayal of Mikael; she no longer had to fear what her son might reveal. She hadn’t anticipated that the wolves would still see fit to retaliate.
But if it was war they wanted, it was war she would give them.
Rising to her feet, power blasted out from her, knocking down her family. The villagers took a collective step back, now caught between the wolves and the witch. They were scared, as they should be; just as she would punish the wolves for taking Henrik, she would punish them for not returning him—alive—to her.
As her children and husband stood, Esther called upon all the power of her ancestors, feeling it strip away from them and into her body. They would not condone her doing this, changing her children. It had never been done before, though there were rumors that many had died trying.
But the Old Ones were the only beings strong enough to overtake an army of wolves. One could fight for days to lay siege through a vast legion of the beasts. They had no need of sleep, breath, or food, just human blood.
And I will have six to do exactly as I say.
Insert Break
Callum sat amongst the carnage his son had caused, a heavy weight in his chest. He may have underestimated the boy; it seemed he did have the wolf within. Glancing down at the Pelt of the First Wolf, he wondered whether he had made a mistake pushing the boy away. Though he had been raised by mortals, he would have made a bloodthirsty general.
It made the king wonder if—when he took Esther back—she would provide him with more powerful children and if they were raised properly by the wolves would they be even stronger. Of course, he wouldn’t sire anymore children on her until he taught her to heel, otherwise she may abscond with them, as well.
Really, it was too bad that Niklaus hadn’t had proper training; perhaps he could have been the true heir as was his birthright. But he clearly still cared about his human siblings, something that Callum could simply not allow. If a wolf was to wear the pelt, he was only to be loyal to the pack. His true brethren.
As he pondered this unique and off-putting situation, one of his injured wolves came running to him, bowing at his feet, his breath coming out heavily. The sight made the king’s hackles rise in alarm.
“My king!” the wolf said breathlessly, keeping his head bowed, though his eyes still sought Callum’s eyes.
Waving the man up, he replied, “I ordered you to keep watch over the injured; why have you shirked your duties?”
There was always the chance of an upstart or negligent wolf not following his orders, though Darach—the wolf before him—was much older than the usual pups that he had to punish. A worthy healer and exceptional fighter, he was the first to care and watch over the injured. The man was hard to quell when it came to battle.
The wolf shivered, rising slowly to his feet. “I was the only one…she sent me in to tell you…your queen is here. And she has brought vampires.”
Callum slowly rose to his feet, hiding his trepidation behind the knowledge of his own strength. “Rally our strongest and bring them to her; I will join the lot of you.”
“Sire,” the wolf murmured, “I already have.”
Insert Break
For the first time in his life, he felt no guilt taking lives, nor did he balk at drinking their spilled blood. In fact, he reveled in the fight, those left fallen in his wake. This was only made better as his siblings fought with the same intensity on any side of him, glorying themselves in the carnage as well.
“Cut a path for me to get to the King, children,” his mother had ordered, a command they had readily followed. “And remember they will not rise only if you take off their heads.”
Somewhere in his mind, the Instinct whispered, --Something is not right.—
A cold chill had run up his spine at that, his hackles rising, but he shook it away. After the pain of his mother using her power to change them into Old Ones, he did not easily welcome the Instinct’s words, didn’t trust them.
Now that he had the strength, why should he listen to some primitive drive? Besides, wasn’t it the same drive that had made Callum and his wolves so vicious toward his innocent little brother? The boy that would never harm a fly did not deserve to be their whipping boy any more than he had.
As he ripped through another wolf’s neck with his newly sharpened fangs, the rage within him built. They had destroyed his family, his mother beyond repair. All he had wanted was to belong and yet they had ridiculed and tortured him for days, only to release him with the guilt that Henrik’s death was his fault.
They would all pay.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered his mother shouting his name from behind him. Turning his head as his hand clenched another wolf’s neck, he saw the magic forming in her hands, wind beginning to whirl her blonde hair around her face. Once again, his Instinct told him that everything was not as he thought it was, but he merely pushed the thought away.
“Bring him to me,” she murmured over the sounds of blood rushing through veins and spilling all around him. “You are the only one that can.”
With a nearly imperceptible nod, Niklaus ripped away the head of the wolf in his grip, tossing it far away from his body. He felt his strength growing as his wolf fangs grew beside his vampiric ones—longer, thicker, meant only for harm—and the change rippled beneath his skin.
Turning towards the cavern of his nightmares, he was almost surprised to find how close he was to it. He could smell his real father even then, just beyond the mouth, watching the onslaught from the shadows. So he must be a cowardly king, sitting on the sidelines while his people fell all around him, no doubt hoping to escape should his attackers grow weary.
But Niklaus felt no fatigue, only a need for vengeance. –Too strong.-- But the voice was ignored once again.
Because what was more fearsome than a werewolf who was also a vampire? As a hybrid, who could overpower him ever again? Even the wolves that had captured him the night of the full moon were falling in his wake; his mother had given him untold power.
“Come out!” he roared into the cave. “Come out and fight me!”
At his challenge, a hush seemed to fall over the clearing. The wolves stopped fighting, as did his siblings, waiting for the response. Would Callum take the challenge or lose his pack to his bastard son?
It didn’t take long; the king was not a man that took a challenge to his authority lightly. He strode out slowly, no longer wearing the pelt Niklaus was sure he rarely went without. He had almost forgotten how his father’s presence seemed to take up all the space around him, making him seem larger and stronger.
“Your mother,” he called out as his eyes locked with Niklaus’s, “has made you into an abomination. If you were a true wolf, your Instinct would tell you of the mistake you are making.” That steady blue gaze caught his son’s jerk of surprise instantly, narrowing as his fangs burst from his gums threateningly. “The Instinct is sacred, yet you would ignore it’s power?!” he roared, his skin rippling as he readied for the fight.
Suddenly not so sure, Niklaus answered, “You told me that night that wolves protect the pack; this is mine.” He swept out an arm towards his siblings and mother. “You killed the youngest of us and now we have come for revenge. And soon, you will have to answer to Mikael, just as you should have twenty-six years ago when you took my mother.”
Callum laughed, shaking his head. “You do not know what you speak of, boy,” he intoned, smirking. “Your mother was my mate and she came freely to me, only to leave when I told her I would not raise her mortal offspring within my pack. Mikael may come, but he will never be able to erase that his wife bedded the very wolf he had tried to kill for years.”
Snarling, Niklaus threw himself with all his considerable speed at Callum, only to be caught and tossed away as he had done so many wolves. But he was up in an instant, attacking again and again, always thrown this way and that. Throughout, he could hear wolves falling at the hands of his siblings as they tried to fall upon him when he was down. However, the king just kept chuckling, mocking the son he had been so carelessly cruel to.
“If you truly wish to attack me, then do it. Show me that I was wrong to cross you and I will gladly show you my neck!” Callum shouted, raising his arms as he stared down at Niklaus. “Within the Lore, might makes right, so prove to me that you are worthy of my blood and my ancestors’ rushing through your veins! Or are you just a headstrong pup with no true understanding of the world we live in?”
His father’s taunts were the end of it; he could take no more. The change rose within him and he couldn’t stop it. But there was something different about the wolf taking over now. Before, it had been hopeful and childish, wanting a home.
Now it demanded blood.
Insert Break
Esther watched as the larger russet wolf stood over his father’s unconscious body, looking to her for orders. She had thought that by turning him into an Old One—the natural enemy and opposite of the wolf—she would be able to destroy that thing that connected him to Callum. Before she’d turned them, she had commanded Niklaus to tell no one that he was a wolf, hoping that he would see no reason to with the power of the vampire within him.
If Mikael were to find out, he would kill her.
Niklaus gave a short whine, snapping his teeth a breath away from Callum’s throat, waiting for her orders. Ever the dutiful son even as a blood sucker, it seemed.
But she couldn’t risk her secret being discovered by Mikael. As a human, he had nearly halved the wolves within the woods. When—if—he rose as a vampire, he would be too powerful for even her magic to quell.
She would have to kill her son to protect herself.
Raising her hand in his direction, she clenched her fist, making him give a startled yelp. “I am sorry, my Niklaus,” she murmured, knowing her other children looked on in horror. “But Mikael can never know what you are. Turning you was supposed to give me retribution, not expose my secrets.” No tears formed in her eyes, though she felt them in her throat. If there was any way other than this to protect herself, her other children, she would gladly do it.
However, she was out of options.
“I have him in place,” she called over her shoulder. “One of you must take his head. It is the only way to protect us from your father.”
A sharp snarl sounded at her right just before her arm was broken, releasing her hold on Niklaus. With a cry, she turned to find Rebekah there, dark veins beneath her eyes as she flashed her fangs at her own mother. “He is one of us!” the girl hissed. “He is our brother! We will not kill him!”
Holding her useless arm, she spun to where Niklaus shakily came to his feet with Elijah’s and Finn’s aid, his wolfen yellow eyes catching hers as if to ask her how she could want him dead.
Didn’t they see it was the only way? She was protecting them! When Mikael arose, he would find out what his “son” was and know immediately of her betrayal, something he might have already suspected. And he was enough of a bastard to take it out on all her children, not just her.
Before she could voice this, she was thrown to the ground, Kol standing over her. “If you would sacrifice one of us for yourself, you would sacrifice all of us; that makes you more of a threat than the wolves ever were,” he growled, his lip turned up to show his fangs. “It makes you the enemy.”
Suddenly, his head was descending, and terror shot through her. Without thought, she raised her left hand, sending out a surge of power. All but Niklaus were tossed away, though he swayed on his feet. Those wolfish eyes were locked on her, pain radiating from them.
If he would just see that she had to protect them all, he would be able to understand what she was offering him. By giving his life for his siblings, he would be wiping clean his slate. He wouldn’t have to feel remorse any more than he had for Henrik’s death, wouldn’t have to go on for potentially eternity with guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders.
They could be a family if he just wasn’t there.
As he shakily walked to her side, she wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps he understood her? She would have to kill him before his siblings were able to rise, she knew, but couldn’t help bringing her hand to the fur at his neck as he gently nuzzled the side of her face.
“I know it is frightening, my love,” she murmured to him as magic grew in her palm. “But you will go to the Other Side with Henrik. Protect him there until I may meet you, Niklaus.”
Just as she squeezed her eyes shut so as not to see his life end, a horrifying pain ripped through her neck. Her good hand swung to clench it, blocked by the muzzle of her son. Blood poured from her as, with one strong bite, he left her to die on the forest floor like an animal.
Darkness was coming quickly, the cold of death already taking hold. But with her last bit of strength, she sent a message to her husband, hoping that he would hear it and rise, avenge her.
Her last sight was her bastard son’s human face over hers, blood coating it as tears fell from his eyes. She cursed that face, was still cursing it as enshrouding darkness became still nothing.
Insert Break
Mikael arose to new scents he had never smelled, noises he’d never heard. He had been so close to that veil between life and death, trying to pull it aside so he could rest, yet it had been just out of reach. He’d wanted nothing more than to go to his youngest child, his parents, his fallen comrades, but then a voice had cut through from the mortal realm, calling him back.
You must kill them, Esther’s voice whispered. Rise and avenge me. The wolves, our own children, Niklaus…. Avenge me.
With a roar, he opened his eyes and snarled, “I will kill them all, wife.”
He swore he could feel her hand on his cheek, her favored gesture of thanks.
