This chapter is written in Simon's point of view
The sounds of agonizing screams, scattered voices, and sorrowful cries filled my head. Every time I closed my eyes, that was all I could hear. For years I had tried to separate those voices, to pull them apart and match them to faces, names, memories. I failed every single time. They overlapped, bled into one another, until they became a single, endless chorus of suffering. I failed everyone. I failed the people I had sworn to protect. I failed the pack. I failed my own brother. And I failed you, Vashti.
The name tasted like ash in my mouth.
I lay on my back, my hands folded behind my head, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it might finally collapse under the weight of my thoughts. It had been almost four years since we returned to our human forms. Four years of pretending that regaining flesh and bone somehow meant redemption. Before that, for over a century, my pack and I had lived as monsters cursed into a demonic form that humans would later name werewolves. Beasts driven by rage, hunger, and an unquenchable thirst for blood.
The cruelest part of the curse was not the killing. It was the awareness.
We had never lost our minds. We saw everything. Heard everything. Felt everything. Every scream. Every life torn apart by claws that once belonged to men with names, families, and vows. It was like being imprisoned inside your own body, forced to watch as something else wore your skin and committed unforgivable acts in your name.
When I realized the curse could not be broken not then, not by war or prayer I made a choice. To protect what remained of my people, I ordered the pack sealed away beneath the earth. A tomb of stone and symbols, where we were bound into an eternal slumber. Better to sleep as monsters than to roam as them.
We remained there until twenty years ago.
A strange green aura had pulsed through the symbols carved into our flesh giving us life again. The butterfly. The mark that tied us to fate itself. When we woke, we were still trapped in the bodies of beasts but this time, we had control of our minds, our thoughts. Full control. And worse, full memory. Every century of bloodshed came rushing back with brutal clarity.
"This century of peace has finally come to an end," I muttered aloud, my voice hollow. "We have awakened."
My emerald eyes stared aimlessly at the ceiling. I felt nothing. No hatred. No love. No grief strong enough to drown the rest. Just emptiness, vast and consuming. I haven't felt anything for a long time now, longer than I could even remember.
A knock echoed through the room.
"Pardon me, Lord Simon. May I come in?"
I didn't move. "Do I even have the power to stop you anymore, Ileus?" I asked, my gaze never leaving the ceiling.
The door opened slowly. "Lord Simon," Ileus said, his voice stripped of its usual wit. "Martha of the Sevenshells has returned. She came with the girl."
That got my attention, though I refused to show it.
Ileus was one of the four Elders men who had ruled Eldermere under my reign. When the wolves were feared, the Elders acted as intermediaries, providing for the town, shaping faith, and protecting order. During the war, when defeat loomed, I gave them my blood. Power enough to survive if we fell.
Power always demands payment.
They became immortal. Unable to die. Unable to procreate. Forced to feed on human blood to sustain the gift I had given them. The world turned its back on them, and Eldermere turned inward, sealing itself away. Trusted soldiers were fed the Elders' blood in turn, binding loyalty through inheritance and fear.
Before I sealed myself away, I named Ileus leader in my absence. I trusted him.
Perhaps that was my final mistake.
"Just kill the girl," I said flatly. "Like you killed the others. Olivia has not returned. I am sure of it."
Ileus stepped forward, then hesitated. Even now, he feared me. As he should.
"That seems to be the problem, Lord Simon," he said carefully. "She cannot be killed."
I turned my head slowly, locking my gaze onto him. "She has the mark," I said. It wasn't a question.
Anger flared within me sharp, violent, fleeting.
"I would never lie to you," Ileus said, retreating a step. "From what we extracted from Martha, she does bear it. But as you believed she is not Olivia."
"How is that possible?" I sat up, the sheets sliding down my torso as I moved.
"I don't know. Martha was part of the elite scouts tasked with eliminating any reincarnations. Her team at the time was sent to eliminate Serena Johnson. None returned."
I remained silent, so he continued.
"She claims a green mist protected the girl. It slaughtered the entire team."
"Then how did Martha survive?" I asked, rising from the bed.
"She was a mole from the beginning. She was in contact with the girl's parents long before she was recruited, she told them everything we planned.She betrayed us. She took the girl in, posing as her aunt after Serena's parents went missing."
My jaw clenched.
"They failed to kill her parents as well? " I said.
"They fled," Ileus replied.
"No human parents abandon a child unless they know she cannot be harmed," I snapped, pulling on a white shirt. "Do we know where they came from?"
"No. Everything was erased . Martha refuses to speak, no matter the methods."
He smiled then. A cruel, eager thing.
I walked past him, descending the stairs of the mansion.
"Don't worry," I said quietly. "I will make her talk."