Chapter 46: Vagabond Soul

STORM

~“She has a vagabond soul and a warrior spirit. She makes no apologies for her wild heart. She leaves normal & regular to explore the outskirts of magical & extraordinary.”~

I am a nomad, a wandering witch. We don’t belong to any single coven. Instead, we travel from coven to coven, learning and teaching.

Wandering witches are stronger than ordinary witches, as we aren’t anchored to any one place. Instead, our magic is elemental, drawing off our surroundings.

I don’t blend in with the humans. I stand out too much with my midnight blue eyes resembling a dark starry night and slightly pointed ears that hide beneath my shimmering blue-black hair.

I was born under a full moon out in the open as my parents were traveling.

It was a stormy night, hence my name, and my mother said when I opened my eyes, the first thing she thought of was the storm she saw in them.

I am a fighter, a warrior. That makes me a strong wanderer. My father was a warrior. My mother was a healer. I speak in the past tense, as they were slaughtered in a wolf massacre a few months back.

Now I was wandering alone, having barely escaped with my life. No coven would take in wanderers anymore, for fear that they would attract the rogues looking for power to overturn the throne.

Rumor had it the alpha king had grown weak and he was preparing for his son, the prince, to take over. But that was not why I traveled to them.

Instead, I wished to see his queen, the most powerful sorceress to grace our lands. That was before her daughter was born, the half-witch half-wolf. The white wolf.

~Gianna Gray.~

The stories said she was the only one who could roam freely into death. Maybe she could help me. I had a gift, you see, but I could not use it. I didn’t seem to know how.

I could see the archways to other realms. I could reach out and touch them. And yet I could not cross.

Mother would say it was because I hadn’t found my pairing. Like wolves, wanderers pair for life, entwining their magic, fusing together until their soul becomes one.

Similar to wolves, if a wanderer loses its partner, they slowly waste away until they greet death themselves, if the madness hasn’t driven them to take matters into their own hands before that.

In every coven, I searched for my pairing but had no such luck. Instead, the men, they looked down on me because of my eyes, my ears, my hair.

I was no ordinary witch, of that I was sure. But it became increasingly obvious that I was also no ordinary wanderer.

I stuck to the shadows, keeping the hood of my cloak up as I made my way through the town named Willow Creek, according to the sign I passed a couple of miles back.

I could sense wolves close by, but no threats as of yet. I learned a long time ago to mask my scent to avoid detection.

I made my way along a forest pathway until a large gray castle loomed before me with several cars parked out front. I stumbled up the steps before hesitantly knocking on the door.

An older gentleman opened it, looking down at me.

I took a step back, tilting my head only slightly so he could see half of my face. “I wish to speak to the queen. I am a witch. I mean no harm.” My voice gave away my nerves.

From the stories I had heard over the years, unwelcome guests never left the castle once they had entered.

Never left alive, that is. The king tended to kill them in a fit of rage, thinking they would harm his queen.

The man simply nodded, stepping to the side to allow me entry. I breathed out softly, crossing the threshold of the doors.

“Follow me, please, Miss.” He waved his hand toward a stairway.

“Storm,” I mumbled.

He nodded again, beginning his ascent. I followed him silently, keeping my hood up.

We came to a stop outside a large oak door. He rapped his knuckles twice before opening.

“A Miss Storm to see you, my queen.”

He motioned for me to walk in, and I did, nodding at him. He nodded in response before leaving, clicking the door shut firmly behind him.

I stood with my back to the door, looking at the elderly couple before me. The man was dark and brooding, his frame wide and well-built. He was certainly fitting for the title of king.

He looked like he could kill me with one swing of his hand.

She sat beside him, her partially gray hair in a bun. She looked calm and gentle, but there was a fire in her eyes. She had seen war, and she had fought for her survival.

Perfectly suited to a king, particularly the king of wolves.

She smiled at me, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was guarded. That I respected. They didn’t know me. He was ready to attack when needed to protect his queen.

He may not have been a witch, but he would fight to the death for her. She was his mate, his pairing.

“Welcome, darling. Storm, is it?”

I nodded silently before coughing, “Yes. Yes, thank you.”

A growl from the man startled me, and I let a breath escape my lips.

“Forgive him, dear. He is just on edge. Would you mind lowering your hood so we may see you?”

I felt a calmness wash over me. My shaking hands reached for my hood, and I pulled it down, letting my hair fall loose around my shoulders.

I tucked some strands behind my ears and raised my eyes to meet hers. She gasped, clutching her hands to her mouth. “You’re a wanderer?”

I nodded silently, darting my gaze to the ground.

“You have experienced pain, my darling?” Her arms were around me now. I hadn’t even heard her move.

I nodded again, accepting her embrace, feeling the warmth.

“My parents were mauled by rogue wolves a couple of months back. I had… I had nowhere else. I couldn’t think. Covens, they won’t accept wanderers anymore,” I choke out, clutching her close.

She stroked my hair, shushing me. I felt the calmness wash over me again. She was a healer like my mom was.

She led me to the table, seating me between her and the king, who looked at me, his hardened gaze mixed with a touch of softness.

“These wolves. Do you know what pack?” His voice cut through the air, and I jumped slightly.

“I heard mutterings of a Blood Moon, but I didn’t understand what it meant.”

He closed his eyes, pinching his nose. I looked at the queen, scared he might kill me.

She stroked my arm gently, keeping me calm. “They have crossed the waters? This is a claim for power.

“If members of the Blood Moon Pack have gone rogue, this will be a direct attack on you, Raphael. We will need to call in the others”

~The others?~

~Who are the others?~

“Yes, yes, you’re right, Frieda darling, as always. Call Diego and Gianna. Tell them to get here immediately. All of them. This is a family issue. The children should be aware as well.”

He waved his hand, his other still pinching his nose.

~The children?~

~All of them?~

Great, I came to see Gianna and the queen—Frieda, I think he called her. Looked like I was meeting the whole family instead. Frieda had made a quick phone call to a… Liv? I think that’s what she said.

“They will be here momentarily. Now, darling, why don’t you tell us about you?” She sat beside me, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I shuffled, glancing at the king nervously. “Well, um, my name is Storm. My father was a warrior, and my mother was a healer. They were pairings. It’s kind of like, um, wolf mates?

“They died protecting me from the wolf attack. I got injured pretty badly. Took me a couple of weeks to heal fully. But I managed to get away.”

“And how did you make it past my guards to my office?” The king was looking at me now.

I coughed slightly. “I, ah, learned to mask my scent a long time ago so as to avoid detection.”

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, the office door opened. People started walking through.

I recognized Gianna from descriptions I had heard over the years, yet she was more beautiful in the flesh.

A girl walked in behind her, a younger version of her, except her eyes were hazel—like her father’s, I’m assuming, by the blond man that followed, but he didn’t have my attention.

The young boy behind them did, with dark hair and green eyes that bored into my very soul, igniting a flame inside me that screamed out for him.

I shuffled in my chair, itching to stand up. He froze on the spot, his gaze holding mine firmly. He shuffled his feet anxiously, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

He opened his mouth just as I opened mine

“Mate.”

“Pair.”