CHAPTER 30: SOMETHING STRANGE

I swallowed the pill with a glass of water, the taste bitter on my tongue.

For a while, I just sat there, waiting.

I half expected my skin to prickle, or my stomach to turn, or for some strange force to stir awake inside me.

But minutes passed, and nothing happened.

No pain, no dizziness, not even a flicker of warmth beneath my skin.

I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. At least it wasn’t poison. If it had been, surely I’d already be doubled over on the floor.

That thought eased me, yet another rose up right after.

Why didn’t I feel anything at all?

The man had been vague, yes, but not without intent. He had implied it could help me.

I looked down at my hands, turning them over as though I might see a difference. I didn’t know what to expect. But they were the same as always. Pale. Thin. Helpless.

What good was a pill that changed nothing?

I carried my book to the window seat, opened it across my lap, and tried to read.

The words blurred together. Every few seconds I would stop, listening to my body for the slightest sign – maybe my heart beating differently, my breath catching, my muscles tightening.

Still nothing.

A strange mix of relief and disappointment settled in me. I was glad I wasn’t poisoned, but part of me had almost wanted the pill to strike like lightning, to shatter this helpless waiting and show me there was more to me than this cage.

The day dragged on until the sky turned to dusk.

From the west, a flutter of wings cut through the silence. The crow landed neatly on my window ledge, its black eyes bright against the fading light.

My heart gave a small leap. I leaned forward, gaze darting to its leg.

Empty. No rolled paper, no ribbon, nothing.

"Why is there no note for me?" I asked softly, my voice barely more than a breath.

The crow only stared back, head cocked as though mocking me with its silence.

I pushed the book aside, setting it on the table with a thud.

Then I rummaged through the desk until I found a pen and a scrap of paper. My hand trembled faintly as I wrote, the ink blotting where I pressed too hard:

’I’ve taken the pill. How will I escape?’

I rolled the paper tightly and tied it to the crow’s leg with a thin strip of twine.

The bird stayed still, unflinching.

I opened the window wide. The crow launched into the air, its wings beating against the last rays of the sun, carrying my desperate question into the darkening sky.

That night, I slept better than I had in days.

It wasn’t a gentle sleep, but a deep, heavy one, the kind that comes when the body gives in at last.

I assumed it was because I hadn’t been sleeping well in the past nights, restless with thoughts of the rite and the cage of this manor. My body must have reached its limit.

Still, I was thankful. At least I’d have the strength to meet the High Matron.

Nyren. Her name had always carried weight in the pack. She was older than anyone I knew, the highest among the priestesses, keeper of rites and traditions.

I remembered her from my childhood, standing at the edge of ceremonies, her presence enough to silence a crowd.

People said her eyes, pale and white as moonlight, could pierce through lies.

Some whispered she was half in this world and half in another.

When the maid came to fetch me, my stomach tightened. There was no running from this.

The chamber they led me to was lit with tall candles that filled the air with smoke and herbs.

Priestesses stood in silence along the walls, cloaked in white. And there in the center was Nyren herself.

She wore a robe of pale blue and white that seemed to glow in the candlelight. Her hair was long and white as snow, falling freely over her shoulders. Her eyes fixed on me at once, sightless to any fool who didn’t know better.

But I knew better.

My feet slowed, and I had to force myself to step forward.

"Remember everything I tell you, girl," Nyren said. Her voice was low, smooth, but each word carried authority.

"Yes, High Matron," I murmured, lowering my head.

She began without hesitation. "You will wear white on the night of the rite. White as bone, white as snow. A color that bears no stain."

I nodded once, swallowing.

"No irons are to touch your body. Not a clasp, not a pin. Iron rejects the spirits and disrupts the binding. Even the smallest trace will anger the Moon."

I lifted my eyes to her, only briefly. "And if... if it does?"

Her gaze did not waver. "Then the rite will fail. And failure, girl, is never forgiven."

A chill ran through me, though the air was warm.

She went on. "On the day of the rite, you will fast. No food, no drink. The body must be emptied, the spirit bare. You will not resist hunger or thirst. You will endure."

My lips parted, but no words came. I thought of how weak I already felt when I skipped meals.

How could I walk into a ceremony half-starved and drained? But I pressed my mouth shut, nodding again.

Her final words came slower, "Until the Alpha comes to claim you, you must not be touched by a man. Not a hand, not a brush of skin. Purity of flesh ensures sanctity of your conception."

Her pale eyes seemed to see more than my body.

They lingered, searching, and for a moment I felt as though she already knew the truth of me – the cracks in my resolve, the secret thoughts in my mind.

But she didn’t say anything.

"Yes, High Matron," I said again, softer this time.

Nyren stepped closer.

The faint scent of herbs clung to her robes, bitter and sharp. She reached out, her fingers, cold despite the candles, cupped my chin and tilted my face upward.

"There’s something strange about you," she said suddenly, her tone unreadable.

"Strange?" My voice came out unsteady.

Her thumb brushed my cheek. She didn’t answer, instead she said, "The wolfbind will be taken off for the rite, but you shall take a vial of bloodbane to suppress your wolf."

Nyren released me and turned away, her robes whispering across the floor.

"You are of blood and duty, child. Remember that. The Alpha will take what he is owed, and you will give it willingly. That is how the world remains in order."