“Now that it has come to this, I will just give up.” Two days had passed since Hera was captured but her final words kept playing in my head like a loop.
Hera was going to be executed publicly five days later. I had finally avenged my mother’s death. Justice was finally going to be served but something didn’t feel right. I was drowning in this weird sensation that something was amiss.
My eyes landed on the new robes sent by the Lycan King. I should have left for the celebratory feast an hour ago. I just couldn’t.
Drawing in a deep breath, I made my way to the infirmary to check on my father. My steps faltered near the door hearing the hushed voices.
“Has Justin left?”
“I think so.” Corel’s familiar voice sounded.
A smile spread on my lips and I pushed the door ever so lightly. My father was sitting in front of a mirror, caressing the gruesome scab; his features contorted in deep annoyance.
Corel reached over and applied some ointment to it. Zap! The next moment she ripped it off. I clasped my mouth tightly to muffle the gasp that left my lips. What the hell was she doing?
“This is good stuff, looks almost real,” she commented as she twirled the thick tissue in her hand.
“What good stuff?” My father snorted. “Do you have any idea how itchy it can get?”
She threw the thick tissue in the bin. “Now that the wereheretic is caught, there is no need to continue with this drama,” she said as she peeled another layer from my father’s face. “We can call a witch and pretend to do some spooky ritual to make you well again.”
I couldn’t tear my gaze from my father’s face. His skin was perfectly normal, no scar, no scab; almost as if he had never been burned before.
He reached over and held Corel’s hand, “I am so lucky to have a brilliant girl like you as my accomplice. Tricking Justin to think that Hera had almost burned the packhouse was a brilliant plan. It proved to be the perfect motivation for him.” He paused for a moment before adding in a hesitant voice, “Are you sure you want to reject Justin?”
“Uncle!” Corel scowled and glared at my father, “I am never going to change my mind on this matter. I can’t remain stuck with a loser like Justin all my life. If you hadn’t lured me with the Novaland, I wouldn’t even have bothered to come here.”
“You did let him mark you though….”
She snorted, “That was purely professional, Uncle Hades, a mere tactic to delve into his mind.”
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that my own father and mate would plot against me. It was as if somebody had pulled the ground underneath my feet. The air was sucked out of my lungs, suffocating me. With wobbly steps and a trembling heart, I made my way out of the packhouse.
There are certain moments in your life when your entire existence starts shaking. At such times, you try to hold onto those fragile threads of illusion that reinforces your belief.
That is what I did. After a long walk, I convinced myself that my father had done everything to motivate me; refusing to give in to the thought that he could have deeper agendas.
A sudden screech pulled me out of my reverie. I stopped walking and looked around. My mindless wandering had led me to a lively market. A large crowd had gathered on a specific corner of the street. Walking over, I found a large notice pasted on the wall.
‘The wereheretic will be executed in the public square this full moon. She is charged with the massacre of hundreds of werewolves, vampires, and witches.
By order,
The Lycan King.’
I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure standing in a corner. Her face was pale and her fingers were clenched into tight fists. After pondering a bit, I realized that she was the woman whose son was killed by Hera in the public park.
I walked over to her, “Now that justice is being served, you must feel relieved.”
Her expression turned awkward as she turned to face me, “Justice? Do they even know what that means?”
My forehead creased with a deep frown, “Aren't you happy that the wereheretic is being executed by Royal order?”
She cast me a disdainful look, “Why in the world would I be happy?”
That wasn’t the reaction I had expected. I cleared my throat and asked, “Do you think she must be punished in some other way?”
“You know what I think? I think all this is rubbish!” She snapped, waving her hands animatedly. “That girl, she shouldn’t be punished at all. She should be rewarded.”
My eyes widened in shock, “I think you are too overwhelmed with grief. Why else would you try to defend your son’s killer?”
The little color drained from her face and she sucked in her breath. In a voice choked with emotions, she replied, “She did kill my son but she did that because I begged her. She saved my son from weeks of torment.”
A gasp left my lips as the incident was presented to me in a different light. The woman’s son had been scratched by the Vexin wolf. If he stayed alive, he would have to suffer weeks of torment before dying a painful death. To save him from that agony, the woman begged Hera to kill him. The wereheretic had merely fulfilled her wish.
The truth had been right in front of my eyes but I had been blinded by the darkness of prejudice. I staggered and my back hit the wall with a thud. What if I had been viewing everything through the glasses of prejudice? What if Hera wasn’t the villain?
I shrugged off that thought with a vigorous shake of my head. She was still the one who killed my mother; she was also the person who had killed Alpha Azarel’s children in cold blood.
The meeting with the woman left me highly unsettled. I felt this intense urge to reinforce my beliefs. So, I set off in search of evidence against Hera.
Since this entire story had begun with the slaughter of Alpha Azarel’s family, I went to the Bloodhound Packhouse. It was completely vacant. Nobody had even bothered to lock the door.
I walked inside and looked around, rummaging through the entire packhouse. I didn’t find anything useful even after an extensive search. A defeated sigh left my lips and the incident that happened nine months ago replayed in my mind.
I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all a part of my father’s plan to motivate me. It had to be. Why else would he bring me here to witness everything firsthand?
I ran my fingers through my hair, struggling to keep my father’s image from shattering. I had to believe that everything he did was to avenge my mother’s death. If that belief was broken, there would be nothing left.
I decided to pay respects to Alpha Azarel and his deceased family before leaving. I plucked a few white flowers and made my way to the backyard where their memorial house was located.
I took off my shoes and stepped inside to find Alpha Azarel and Luna Rachel’s memorial tablets placed on high pillars. Beyond those tablets were other tablets of his ancestors. I couldn’t, however, find the tablets of his children.
Upon enquiring, I found out that nobody wanted to even step inside the Azarel Packhouse. It was believed to be cursed. The last of the servants had left months ago.
I couldn’t figure out why the memorial tablets of the children were unavailable. So, I set off in search of the servants who were last spotted at the packhouse.