Prophecies from the Dark

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One Truth Two Lies

We jump out of the truck in the old pack house. A long time ago when my grandfather was leading the pack, and the pack had grown so large we needed a large house. So they turned the old rickety house into our prison cells in the basement. We make our way through the door seeing two large hunters standing opposite of the prison door. The guards give a quick nod in acknowledgement and stand aside, one opening the door to stone stairs. We make our way down the stairs the room giving way to a dozen or so metal bar cells. Most are empty except the largest cell tucked in the farthest back of the room.

As we approach the cell, the putrid smell of blood, urine hits the nose. The man in middle aged both of his arms chained up over his head forcing him half way standing and sitting. His red and blue flannel shirt is ripped open revealing a good amount of old scars and newer cuts down his abdomen. The man had a bit of a beer belly, as he was a large man. His face had a scar a crossed his left eyes long ago healed, and wrinkles on his forehead. His large red beard stained with blood from the many cuts and bruises littering his face. His head was bald but dirt and filled with sweat. The man looked terrible and my wolf Fang loved it. I would feel terrible seeing him like this if I hadn’t known that had been one of the meant hat kept my mate from me and beat her so easily.

The guard watching over him gives me a nod and opens the cell. Both me and Tristan step into the cell the man’s eyes watching our every move, his eyes were nervous and exhausted. No doubt from the long hours of interrogations the hunters did. “You said you wanted to talk?” I stay my alpha voice strong and dominant.The slightly cower from it and It cant help but feel strong and powerful. He swallows probably trying to wet his throat from the lack of hydration. “what do you want to know?” He asks dryly, croaking slightly. I had a lot of questions and yet at the moment I didn’t know which to ask first, until it hits me the question about what started everything.

“11 years ago your people attacked the Night Crest pack, Why? I could feel Tristan was trying hard to hide how eager he was to hear the answer. His dull brown eyes linger on my face, and for a moment I was about to have the guard give some pressure to him. After a moment of thinking his gruff voice speaks up weakly. ” I wasn’t there when they wiped those foul blooded unworldly purists from the earth but I wish I was. ” He pauses his eyes moving to Tristan looking up and down him with complete hatred as if he was nothing but disease. I knew Tristan was holding back from going after him. “Start talking or will give you a little more time with guards.” Tristan threatens. The man scoffs rolling his eyes and swallowing again.

“All I know is that when I was brought into this war my task was simple. Keep the girl alive, but weak.” He winces from the bruising around his ribs. “Why her? Why keep her alive?” I ask anger in me hearing him speak about her, but we need to know. He gives us a faint smile and I push back my temper and Fang from strangling him. “Have you ever played chess?” he says slyly. “yes.” I answer shortly. “Well, in chess, your game can all but be won when you capture the white queen.” He taunts. “The white queen?” Tristan asks.

“That girl, the child of those people is a threat to the rest of our kind, their dangerous, they seek power that can only lead to destruction, their blood is tainted by beliefs far more powerful then their own control.” He spits anger fuming into his words. He nudges his head towards Tristan his breathing more raged. “Like him, he’s one of them. You can smell it on him, in his blood. That pack wasnt normal, they weren’t like the rest of us wolves. That difference is to dangerous for us to allow.” He spews angrily until I can feel the anger broiling off of him, he moves quickly slamming his fist into the mans jaw, then again knocking the man out.

Tristan stops when the man doesn’t open his eyes again. He takes a deep breath not turning around to face me but I could see the strain on him, the rigid posture he stands. His hand pushes his long hair back then wiping over his face. “I’m sorry roman, I just-just couldn’t listen to him spew that crap any longer.” He says turning around. Although he tried to hide his anger behind that practiced mask, I could see he was hurt, pained even by the mans words. “Do you have any idea why he would say that?” I ask him confused.

Tristan nods absently looking off beside me. He looked as though he was baffled and confused. “He’s saying they butchered our family because they think we are ... What? To strong?some kind of mystical beings compared to the other wolves?” He asks confused and infuriated. Tristan doesn't say anything else as we head back to the pack house completely drawn into his thoughts. I couldn't blame him,the man must be crazy because half the words he said didn't really make that much sense.

By the time we get back to the pack house its around 3 in the morning and I was thoroughly exhausted. I have so many questions shooting around in my head. The explanation he gave us was odd and didn't explain as much as I wished. The one thing that was catching my mind the most was when he spoke about chess and the white queen. Something about that sentence sent ominous shivers down my spine and I don't get nervous easily.

When I finally drop down to my large king sized bed,exhaustion immediately takes hold welcomingly.

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