1. A Wedding
Calla Voronín knew the legends. Since girlhood, she’d heard whispers of great warriors from the North– relentless beasts who conquered civility in search of gold and ruby, crop and livestock, women and children. These northern tyrants went by varying names.Skinwalkers. Shifters. Moon Blessed. Werewolves.
The legends claimed that shifters roamed the cold, unforgiving lands of Nortend. They were men and women capable of transforming their bodies into devastatingly powerful beasts– wolves. Feral hounds as large as any horse, with an appetite for power. It was enough to make a shiver run down any sane human’s back.
However, having reached her twentieth year without witnessing any shred of evidence to prove the existence of such monsters, Calla was content to believe that these legends were simply that– legends. Stories crafted by village elders to frighten the children of Berlyne into behaving.
Once, Calla naively believed in the existence of shifters. But now, she’d long-since tucked away her nightmares of massive wolves infiltrating her little coastal village, Berlyne. Now, she had far more pressing matters to occupy her thoughts and haunt her dreams...
“Mama, that’s too tight!” Calla complained, hunched over her childhood wardrobe to offer her mother better access to the strings of her bodice.
Ember Voronín clucked, only pulling tighter on the satin strings that twined up the spine of her daughter’s wedding dress. “Only a bit more, my dear. You want to impress your betrothed, yes?”
Calla winced, half-convinced that her ribs would snap in half if her mother pulled any harder. “I also want tobreathe!”
Thank the gods, her mother ceased her tugging and began tying the ribbon into a bow. Calla took the opportunity to stand straighter, pressing her hands against the white silk of her skirts. The fabric was exquisite. No expenses had been spared.
“There,” Ember murmured. Calla felt her mother take a step back, offering enough space for her to turn around to face the mirror for the first time since slipping into the dress. Calla’s breath caught in her throat at the young woman who stared back at her from the glass.
“You will be the most beautiful bride, my daughter,” Ember whispered, emotion thickening her words.
Calla scarcely heard her mother’s compliment due to the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her fingers began to tremble as they stroked the silk of her skirts once more, although she couldn’t tear her bright blue eyes from the lace that adorned the wedding dress’ bodice. It was beautiful. She looked beautiful.
Her mother had pulled her white-blonde hair back into an intricate braid, leaving tendrils of waves to frame her cheeks and jaw. She’d smudged a hint of rouge across Calla’s cheeks, giving the illusion of a feminine blush. Without the artificial coloring, Calla knew that her cheeks would be pale as death.
She certainlylookedlike a bride, but the idea of becoming a wife had haunted Calla’s nightmares for the better part of a month.
Despite her reservations, Calla did not dare to voice her doubts. She had reached maturity long ago, and most women in Berlyne took husbands by the age of eighteen. Calla was twenty. She’d been given two years of freedom by her parents while they searched for the most suitable match. Calla was the village’s future Seer, after all. And her husband would be the next Regent, the leader and lord of Berlyne.
Calla gripped the fabric of her skirt in a feeble effort to stop her fingers’ shaking. “It’s a lovely dress,” she managed, forcing a smile on her lips as she finally turned away from the mirror.
“How are you feeling, darling?” Ember took a step closer once more, taking both of Calla’s hands in her own.
Terrified.Calla did not allow the words to slip off of her tongue. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “I’m ready to fulfill my destiny as Seer of Berlyne.”
The words felt stiff leaving Calla’s lips.
In truth, she couldn’t understand the doubt that swamped her every thought. She’d spent the last twenty years learning to harness the gift of precognition that she’d inherited from her mother. By all rights, Calla was more than prepared to serve as the Seer of her people. She’d also been given the chance to handpick her betrothed, Branson Kören. He was a good man from a prominent family and one of the most accomplished hunters and fighters in their city.
So she couldn’t explain the fervent twisting in her stomach, as if the very essence of her being was begging her to put a stop to the impending ceremony. Calla shoved the nagging sensation away, refocusing on her mother.
“Were you nervous?” Calla breathed, squeezing her mother’s hands. “Before you married Father and became the next Seer and Regent pair?”
Ember chuckled, lifting a hand to stroke Calla’s cheek. She savored the warmth of her mother’s touch. “Of course I was. But your father and I will always be here. We will help as you transition...”
Calla wished her mother’s words brought some semblance of peace to the writhing in the pit of her stomach. Still, she smiled and bowed her head. She glanced to the window, knowing that she’d see a stain of red and purple across the sky as the last of the sun’s rays stretched across the ocean horizon.
“I suppose it’s time,” Calla whispered. The wedding ceremony was scheduled to begin at dusk, and the celebration would continue throughout the entire night.
Her mother moved to press a kiss against her forehead. “I love you, my dear.”
“I love you, Mama.” Calla took a deep breath, gathering courage in her heart, and began her slow walk away from her childhood bedroom and toward her destiny.
Every step that Calla took toward Berlyne’s reception hall, the largest building in the village, filled her with dread. Fortunately, it was a short walk from her parent’s home along the coastline to the bustling city-center. The streets, which were usually filled with merchant carts and bartering villagers, had been cleared for this special occasion. The wedding of the next Seer and Regent.
Flower petals lined the streets, and lanterns hung on wires between buildings, lighting Calla’s way to the city-center. When she and Branson were officially wed, the streets would be teeming with activity, but, for now, it felt like she and her mother were the only souls in Berlyne.
They reached the reception hall, a long building made from ancient ocean stones stacked one another. A hundred voices rose from within the hall, excited chatter as the people of Berlyne waited for her arrival.
Calla’s mother kissed her forehead one last time before entering the hall, leaving her to wait outside alone. The voices inside the building hushed, replaced by the lilting melody of a brass flute. Calla knew that was her cue.
Her stomach twisted into a knot, and the strangest pain stretched within her chest. She staggered a step forward, placing her hand atop her breast as if that might remedy the foreign sensation. The tugging pain worsened with every step she took closer to the reception hall, as if her body couldn’t stand to move an inch closer to this fate...
She ground her teeth together, nostrils flaring as she mustered the will to finally push open the reception hall doors. Every person in the room stood to greet her, their beloved future Seer, and their bodies lined up to create a lantern-laden path toward an altar, where three beings stood atop a dais. Calla’s father, mother, and betrothed.
Her heart raced in her chest, fluttering against the dull ache that now spread across her entire front. She forced a smile on her lips as she beheld Branson, whose unruly black hair had been tamed for this event. His returning grin offered Calla the courage to take another step into the reception hall.
But, before she could further enter the sacred wedding space, a deep, bellowing gong penetrated the flute’s solo. Everyone in the room stiffened as the village’s warning gong sounded once more, then again, reverberating across every building in Berlyne to warn of an impending danger.
“What’s happening?” a man’s voice called above the concerned murmurs in the reception hall.
“The warning bell!” another voice cried.
Calla couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard the warning gong. It must have been years ago, when the alarm blared to warn the city of an incoming, spiraling storm above the Atlas Sea. Her blue gaze frantically flickered to the altar once more, but her father and mother had vanished from the dais.
All thoughts of the wedding were forgotten as Berlyne citizens clamored to reach the door. Calla nearly lost her footing as an old man pushed past her to break through the reception hall’s doors. A pair of hands caught her before she could fall, holding her upright. It was Branson.
Her betrothed’s brown eyes were wide as he wrapped a strong arm around her waist. Branson held her close to his chest, protecting her from any further collisions with frantic citizens. “Calla? Are you alright?”
She nodded, wisps of blonde hair falling from her braid at the quick movements. “What is happening?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Your father and mother have gone to check.”
A chill crept down Calla’s spine. “Could it be a storm?”
Even as she spoke those words, she knew that a storm was unlikely. The skies had been clear only moments ago. Branson did not deign himself to respond, not as a gruff male voice rang out above the screams and commotion.
“Invasion! Hide the children! Invasion!”
Calla’s entire body stilled against Branson as more screams rose across the city streets, penetrating the threshold into the reception hall. Branson cursed, but his grip around her waist tightened.
“Calla, you need to hide! I’ll find your mother and father,” Branson ordered, gently pushing her away from the doors and toward the back of the reception hall. “Hide,now!"
Her betrothed’s command washed over her, even as he shoved her backwards, away from the reception hall’s entrance. Branson did not bother waiting to see if Calla understood his orders. She only looked up in time to see her future husband launch himself through the doors, undoubtedly on a mission to retrieve a weapon.
Calla could scarcely draw breath into her lungs as another shrill scream echoed beyond the reception hall doors. “Skinwalkers!”
Her blood turned to ice. More shouts and screams filled the reception hall. Women and children scrambled away from the doors, as if the ocean-stone walls could offer any sort of protection from the fate that awaited everyone if it was true. If the Nortend Skinwalkers had indeed breached their shores...
Calla leapt toward the reception hall doors. She didn’t believe it–wouldn’tbelieve it– until she saw one of the beasts with her own eyes.
All thoughts of her white wedding silks abandoned, Calla threw open the doors. She gathered her skirts into one hand, drawing the fabric up enough to run into the stone streets without any hindrance. If anyone noticed that their future Seer had entered the fray, they were too worried about their own family’s safety to pay Calla any attention.
Panic descended upon the streets as Berlyne citizens rushed in the opposite direction of the beaches. The intruders must have arrived by boat, then. Calla pushed against the throng of the crowds, shoving against men and women alike to carve out a path to the ocean cliffs. Lanterns cast an orange glow against the impending shadows of dusk. Soon, all natural light would fade, and Calla would rely on a torch to navigate the streets.
She rounded a corner, entering a plaza that she knew would offer a decent view of the beaches that rested beneath the coastal city.
But, before she could even look toward the ocean’s horizon, a monstrous, unimaginable creature tore into the plaza.
It bore a striking resemblance to the gray wolves that stalked the forests surrounding Berlyne, but this creature could have swallowed a normal wolf whole. It was the size of a stallion, with dark gray fur that was stained red along the jowls. The monster snarled, exposing an assortment of fangs that could have been plucked from the depths of hell. A skinwalker.A werewolf.
Calla gasped, staggering backward to retreat alongside the rest of her people, but her foot caught on a raised cobblestone. She landed on the hard ground, pain lancing through her tailbone and hands as they collided with rock.
A quick glance around the clearing told Calla that the rest of her people had already flooded out of the plaza. She was alone. Face to face with a creature of nightmares.
The dark furred being padded closer, amber eyes flashing as it regarded Calla as prey. The only victim left in the plaza for it to sink its teeth into. Tension rippled across the beast’s impressive muscles, and Calla knew that it was only a matter of time before it pounced.
Her eyes widened, and she began to scramble backwards. “P-please. D-don’t do this!” Her voice rose into a scream, but the animal only stalked closer. Cruelty danced in its amber gaze.
Calla continued to scramble backwards until her shoulders collided with the solid surface of a wall. She’d backed herself into a corner, and the werewolf was mere paces away.
“No!”she screamed, wrenching her eyes shut. This was the end.
And yet, the pain of teeth ripping into her flesh never came. Death never came.
Instead, a dangerously low snarl ricocheted throughout the plaza, and Calla’s chest went aflame at the authority undercutting the animalistic sound. Her heart pulsed at a dangerously fast rate beneath her breast, but warmth began to flood her veins. Despite her terror, she dared to open her eyes again.
Where the gray-furred werewolf had been stalking her moments ago, the creature now cowered. It bent low to the ground, legs wobbling in response to a new, dominating presence in the plaza.
Calla blinked, willing her eyes to adjust to the new monster that slunk in the shadows. Orange lantern light offered momentary glimpses of this wolf’s form. Dark fur with russet undertones. It was larger–much larger–than its companion, and every step was purposeful– powerful. Finally, this newcomer, Calla’s savior, halted its advance.
She gasped as her eyes locked with a piercing, slate gray gaze. Electric warmth burst inside of Calla’s body, originating in her chest and rippling into her limbs, her fingertips. The sensation left her limp and breathless, with black clouding the edges of her vision.
At the same moment, the gray-eyed wolf threw its head back and released a guttural howl. Seconds later, the cries of more than a dozen wolves pierced the darkening sky, and it was the last thing Calla heard before darkness took her.
