"Fearing a king is one thing, but dreading his Praetors is a survival instinct. A Praetor doesn't judge — he executes."
{ROXANNE'S POV}
My eyes were glued to Michael until he left. There was something off about him—an unspoken truth everyone seemed to know. Based on how the situation was unfolding, I came to a conclusion, he was my enemy, and I needed to get out as fast as I could.
Honestly, I was ready to bolt when Michael broke down the Sheddai but Raven quickly restored it, almost as if she sensed my intentions.
And that talk about me being a Daskai? It sounded like complete gibberish. Why would someone from the past share my exact physical traits? Wasn't the whole doppelgänger thing just a myth?
If I was going to escape this place, I had to treat Michael and Raven as enemies—because that's exactly what they were. I planned to slip away the moment an opportunity presented itself. But before that, I needed to coax some information out of this warlock. There was something about her that seemed almost amiable.
Just as I was about to speak, she beat me to it, smiling as she said, "I know you're scared. It's normal. If I were you, I'd escape this situation the moment I got the chance."
I chuckled. "If you were me, you might reconsider—there's a warlock in the room. And those are fearsome creatures." I added the last part lightly, almost as a joke.
She stared deep into my eyes before continuing. "Have you ever heard of the Ashkedais?"
I shook my head. "Not until today—when you and Michael mentioned them. What exactly are they?"
She leaned forward, pulling her chair closer. "The Ashkedais are magical conduits that dwell deep within the heart of Ashland. They were once beings who lived on Earth—warlocks, long ago. Now, they exist as magical spirits. And trust me, not a single one of them is pleasant."
She paused, her tone growing darker. "They're always looking for a way back into the human world. Seems like Ashland is a nasty place to be stuck. But to cross over, they need a vessel—an anchor to connect them to our world. Usually, they latch onto the soul of a warlock who's in a fragile state of mind or someone dabbling in forbidden rituals."
She exhaled sharply. "In short, they're what's been disturbing Michael."
I was beginning to understand where the madness came from—the Ashkedais were the ones pulling the strings from behind the curtain.
"But you said they latch onto the souls of warlocks," I replied, just as my stomach grumbled. "Michael clearly isn't one."
She gave me a quick smile. "Sounds like you're hungry. I'll get you something to eat."
Without waiting for a response, she stood and walked out of the room—straight past the door, as if the magical barrier, the Sheddai she had cast, didn't exist. Well, that made sense. She was the caster, after all. Even after she left, the Sheddai remained active.
An urge surged through me—I had to observe the room. It was a reliable impulse. The room was spacious, as I'd noticed earlier, but now I took the time to really look. Paintings adorned the walls. Three, to be exact.
The first was a landscape—mountains and rivers stretched across a land choked in ash. The second depicted a woman. She was strikingly beautiful, but what truly caught my attention was the tattoo on her forehead: a lotus mark. The third painting showed a man—handsome—and he, too, bore a lotus mark on his forehead.
Just as I was about to continue my observation, the door swung open and Raven stepped in—this time carrying a tray with two hamburgers and a single soda. As if reading my thoughts, she spoke.
"Seems like you're curious about the paintings."
She walked over and set the tray on the bed before joining me by the wall.
Without hesitation, I asked, "Are they your parents?"
She didn't need clarification—she knew exactly what I meant.
Pointing to the landscape, she said, "This is Ashland." Then she gestured to the male figure. "That's Asher." Finally, she motioned to the woman. "And this is his wife—Octavia."
Ashland? Wasn't that the home of the Ashkedais? Why did everything have the prefix Ash? What connection did the man and woman have to Ashland?
I asked the question aloud. "Who are they? And why is everything named with the prefix Ash—even his name?"
"I know, it's funny," Raven replied. "Asher is considered the first warlock—the first person to ever use magic. He was incredibly powerful. No warlock has ever come close to his strength. His wife, Octavia, also practiced magic, learning from him."
She paused for a moment before continuing. "One day, she performed a ritual. I don't know the specifics, but what I do know is that she died because of it. Asher went mad after that. He tried every forbidden ritual he could find to bring her back, but nothing worked. That's where my knowledge ends."
She glanced back at the paintings. "These have been here since before I was born. My mother must've been a fan of those two legends. You'll even find their portraits in some warlocks' homes—other fans, I guess."
Then she turned back to me with a softer tone. "Anyway, you should eat now."
She stepped away and returned to her seat.
I stepped back and returned to my spot on the bed. Without hesitation, I grabbed one of the hamburgers and devoured it like a starving beast—choking a little in the process, but I didn't care. I was famished.
Raven watched me with an amused expression, and before she could even think to tell me to slow down, I was already tearing into the second burger, turning it into a personal masterpiece of consumption.
After a few bites, I eased up and finally spoke, my tone more serious.
"So what exactly do they want? The Ashkedais?"
"Frankly speaking, I don't know," she said, still watching me closely. "Michael said they wanted him to grow stronger—which is strange, considering their usual affinity with my kind."
"Why?" I asked, cracking open the soda and taking a few gulps. "I feel like they must have a motive. They wouldn't just help him grow stronger for no reason. What do you think?"
"Yeah, they probably do," she replied. "Like I mentioned earlier, the Ashkedais need vessels to cross into our world. Maybe one of them is trying to visit and they need a strong vessel to make that possible. Normally, they'd latch onto warlocks who've lost control—but those vessels don't last long."
She paused, then added, "I think they're trying to create the perfect vessel for one of their own."
I didn't understand everything she said, but a few key points stuck with me—and none of them were comforting.
"Doesn't that mean one of them is planning to possess Michael?" I asked, finishing the last bite of the hamburger. "Is that why they're making him grow stronger? It seems like it's all for their benefit. I get that Michael is unstable, so it's hard for him to really grasp any of this. And even if he does, it's not like he has control over himself anymore. But here's what I don't get—why aren't the Ashkedais pushing harder for him to complete the ritual?"
She tilted her head. "Why do you think that?"
"C'mon," I said, brushing my hands together. "If they were serious, they wouldn't let him waste time running around trying to collect your payments. That just slows everything down. They could've easily made him threaten you—force you to do what they want. It'd be way faster. So why are they being patient?"
I grabbed the soda and downed the rest in one go, the question still hanging in the air.
"Good question. You pay attention to detail," she said. "I don't know why either. But whatever the reason is, I honestly don't care. Since they're not stopping me, I figure there's no point stressing over it. Maybe they're just not in a hurry. I'll admit—I'm curious now. I'll ask Michael about it when he returns."
She paused for a moment, then continued, "Do you know why Michael came to your pack and caused chaos last night? I heard it was your wedding too. I'm sorry he ruined it."
Then she added, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, right—I forgot. He said you didn't love your partner anyway."
A deep frown formed on my face at the thought of Seth—that nasty pervert.
"Yeah, I hate him," I said. "In a weird way, I'm actually a bit glad Michael abducted me but at the same time, he's not someone I can trust."
I leaned back slightly, my mind working through the details. "As for the chaos he caused last night, I think I've figured it out—especially after hearing your earlier conversation with him. I believe the whole thing was just a distraction. A front. His real intention was to capture me.
"He caused all that destruction to make it look like he was just acting out—like it was another episode of madness. So when he took me, it wouldn't raise too many questions. They'll all probably chalk it up to his insanity, not realizing it was all to cover the fact that I'm different. That I'm special."
"Exactly," she said. "Now that Michael is no longer seen as just a crazy werewolf in your society, but as a powerful threat, he'll definitely be reported to the Prime Alpha for all his crimes."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because none of them can take him on anymore—not even your father. It's all up to the Prime Alpha now. Within a few days—no, it'll have to be after the full moon, which is in two days—he'll probably send his Praetors to investigate. If they find out Michael had a motive behind what he did, they might dig deeper. But if they blame it all on his madness, they'll likely just focus on killing him rather than uncovering his true intentions."
Her explanation left me a little confused.
"So Michael did all of this just to avoid alerting the Prime Alpha to his real scheme? That I'm a Daskai?" I asked, trying to process it all. "Even if he didn't cover it up perfectly, no investigation would be able to uncover the truth. They might just think he came for me out of lust."
I shivered at the mention of the Praetors.
They were a feared group—elite werewolves who served directly under the Prime Alpha. Each one of them was an Alpha, which made them incredibly dangerous. I didn't know how many there were, but it couldn't be a large number. Alphas were rare. The Prime Alpha had his own pack, made up of Betas and Omegas too, but the Praetors were his inner circle, second only to his Prime Beta.
Wasn't Michael afraid of them? They could arrive at any moment, and the Prime Alpha's pack wasn't far from ours—just a few days' journey.
"I can't say for sure," she said. "But Michael probably thought it was better to be safe than sorry. One thing is certain—once the Praetors come looking, I'll throw both of you out."
Her sudden declaration made my blood run cold. Wasn't this the same woman who had been acting warm and even friendly toward Michael—and somewhat cordial with me?
"Why? You look shocked," she said, standing and flashing a smile. "I don't want their attention. The Praetors are terrifying, especially their leader. I don't know if Michael can take them on. Sure, he's stronger and faster now, but I doubt he's a match for all of them. And even if he is, he's definitely not a match for the Prime Alpha. I won't take that risk."
She turned and started walking toward the door. "I'll gather whatever ingredients I can find for him before the full moon. After that, you're both leaving. In fact, I'm going to charge Michael another fee—a steep one. You werewolves are destructive during the full moon, even when chained up."
She paused at the door. "Now, I'm going to sleep."
Without waiting for a response, she stepped out, closing the door behind her. But a second later, it creaked open again, and only her face appeared through the gap—a strange, almost comical sight.
"And you should be hoping the Praetors kill Michael," she said. "They'll return you to your pack after that. At least that's better than dying in a ritual meant to summon an Ashkedai."
Then she vanished before I could say a word, leaving me drowning in a sea of doubt.
Wasn't she supposed to be Michael's friend? What was she really playing at? Did she want him dead?
Damn, warlocks were truly eccentric. They weren't anyone's allies. Maybe that's why Michael said he couldn't trust them.
Still, she was right about one thing—I should hope the Praetors kill him. Michael was no friend of mine. Returning to the pack was better than dying in some ritual. Besides, after everything Seth and his family did, I doubted the marriage would even still be valid.
I was more eager than ever to return now. And if the Praetors somehow failed to kill Michael—which seemed unlikely—I would use the chaos as cover to escape. I'd disappear, go far from this place, to somewhere he could never reach me.