Chapter 95: Blood and Ashes

Trishelle POV

El stood, and I watched her give the couple, now holding each other in a comforting embrace, one last look before heading out the door. I followed, sensing that El moved a bit faster than before, as though something urgent pulled at her.

"So... I’m guessing that those were the princess’s parents, and a big party will be held today," I said, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

El just nodded and led the way down another flight of stairs toward the side of the house. The stone steps felt cool beneath my feet, though I still couldn’t quite explain how I felt anything at all in this strange, half-real place.

"This is a different place," El explained, her voice echoing in my mind like a whisper carried on wind. "A part of your world, yet hidden by a veil that separates the natural from the supernatural. The people here gain gifts on their fifth birthday during the ritual to awaken them. This is the realm where all supernatural beings began centuries ago."

I was shocked. A hundred questions crowded my mind at once, but only one managed to escape. "So Dracula didn’t come from Transylvania?"

El lifted her head and laughed, a sound both warm and ancient. "He did not, but whoever was the originator of vampires in your realm came from here."

We made our way to the shrubs close to the house, the grass whispering against legs that felt solid yet weren’t entirely there. Soon, a bit of white amid the green leaves caught my eye. I peered closer and made out what appeared to be someone, a small someone, hiding in the bushes. My suspicion was confirmed as the branches shook and a small giggle escaped, bright and mischievous.

Before I could ask El anything, voices floated through a few open windows. A gasp of, "Oh no, they’re gonna find me," came from the shrubbery, followed by a small girl appearing.

She wore a white dress dotted with small pink flowers, trimmed with matching pink lace. Long brown hair framed her chubby, round face, the kind that radiated health and mischief in equal measure. She looked up, and it seemed as though she stared straight into me. My mouth fell open as I saw those blue-grey eyes, clear as the sky, eyes exactly like mine when lit with joy. Something in my chest tightened painfully, though I couldn’t name why.

The little girl ran through me, her laughter trailing on the evening wind like a melody I almost recognized.

I simply stared after her, questions racing through my mind. I recalled the inscription above the door and wondered if this child was some ancestor of mine. If that were true, did it mean I carried some kind of spiritual power buried deep inside me? Was I, somehow, a descendant of royalty?

We both watched the little girl dash across the ground, only to be caught by the young boy from earlier. Her body language made clear she resented being found, but she soon relented as the boy pointed toward the castle and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Her smile bloomed instantly, and she hurried inside, her earlier protest forgotten.

El walked toward the woods and, just inside the tree line, settled down, resting her head on her front paws. I followed, lowering myself to the ground and leaning back against a tree, surprised that I didn’t simply fall through it. El smirked at the confusion written plainly across my face.

"So, how long are we gonna sit here?" I asked, glancing around, admiring how the evening sun painted the white stones of the castle in a soft, golden glow.

"Not long, but you should be aware," El replied, her tone shifting suddenly to something serious, something guarded.

I looked around again, but everything still seemed peaceful. I plucked a fern growing nearby and studied it closely, noting how it resembled the ferns from the forest surrounding Bloodmoon. Maybe El was right about the worlds being connected after all. My mind wandered, and I wondered what Rosie would say if I could go back and tell her about this wild, impossible adventure. Was it real, or merely a hallucination born of stress and grief? I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, letting the scents of earth and wood settle me further into this strange, borrowed calm.

Soon, though, my brows furrowed with unease. I couldn’t be certain how much time had passed; surely less than an hour, yet the woods had fallen eerily silent. Wind still stirred the trees, but the rustle of small animals had vanished entirely, replaced by an unsettling hush that pressed against my skin.

I opened my eyes, senses sharpening as I searched for the source of my discomfort. El’s ears had turned in one particular direction, and I slowly rose, following her gaze. For a moment, I wondered if I’d only imagined some shift in the shadows, but as I peered deeper into the darkness between the trees, I realized something moved steadily toward the building. I stepped behind a maple trunk and saw multiple figures advancing, their careful, deliberate stealth betraying their desire to remain unseen.

El stood, the fur along her neck bristling, though she made no further move. The shadows halted all at once, as though obeying some silent command, and lowered themselves to the ground in practiced unison.

A door opened, and several servants emerged, their arms laden with food and drink, hurrying to arrange the tables already set outside. Others moved to light the lamps near the tables, and somewhere unseen, musicians began tuning their instruments. El’s ears flicked sharply, and she turned her body, a low growl rumbling deep in her throat.

I watched one of the shadows detach itself from the group, stepping closer with deliberate care, using the deepening darkness as cover. I instinctively stepped back as the figure drew near, recognizing the broad build of a man. He advanced steadily, his eyes fixed on the bustling servants, never wavering.

He passed directly by me, and I gasped as his face came into view. My head began to pound violently, my vision blurred, and my breath came in short, panicked gasps. I would never forget that face, once handsome, as handsome as the King’s, now marred by an ugly burn twisting one side into something from my darkest nightmares. Because it was.

"I know it is hard, but I need you to focus, Anna," El’s voice cut through my panic, offering a thread of calm. I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing my nerves to steady.

The servants finished their tasks and retreated inside, and music began drifting out through the open windows, light and cheerful, utterly unaware of what approached. The scarred man withdrew, gesturing to his followers with silent instructions only they understood. They dispersed in different directions like smoke scattering in wind, and I caught the low, venomous growl of his parting words.

"Soon, brother," he spat, "we will see who was wrong."

A wave of dread followed those words, settling heavy in my chest. I turned desperately toward El. "Do something. You’re part of this world, of this place. I know you know the king and queen, can’t you do something?"

El sighed, sorrow deepening in her ancient eyes. "I am here just like you. These are memories. They can’t be touched or altered, no matter how much I wish otherwise."

I clutched my stomach, dread rising like bile within me. Somehow I knew, with sickening certainty, that whatever came next would haunt me forever. Another door opened, and the princess stepped outside, radiant in a change of clothes, a beautiful blue dress the same color as her eyes. Her brown hair fell in soft curls, and for a moment, she truly looked like the belle of the ball, innocent and untouched by the horror I now knew waited in the shadows.

She glanced around carefully and, seeing no one, dashed toward the dessert table. She snatched a bun and, with an expression of pure childlike joy, took a delighted bite.

"Run," I whispered, my voice rising sharply into panic. "Run!" But of course, no sound reached her; I was merely a ghost within a memory not my own.

The little girl reached for another sweet, but before she could take a bite, a scream tore through the air from inside. The princess spun toward the sound, and I followed her gaze helplessly. Through the windows, frantic shapes moved in chaos, and within moments the entire building seemed consumed by flames, the cries of the dying rising amid shouts and the clash of steel.

Princess Annalise dropped her bun, her small mind spinning with confusion and fear, and somehow, impossibly, I felt myself pulled inside her thoughts, sharing her terror as though it were my own.

Every instinct screamed at her to run inside, to seek the comforting arms of her parents, but a painful, guttural howl split the night, and somehow the child simply knew, with the certainty only grief brings, that her mother had died.

"Papa," she whispered, fat tears spilling down her flushed cheeks.

She understood, with a clarity beyond her years, that her home had become a war zone, and she remembered her father’s warning never to run between fighting men. She stood frozen, torn between instinct and fear, glancing behind her at the forest, but the trees seemed impossibly dark, swallowing any hope of safety.

A sharp, invisible pain struck her suddenly, and Annalise gasped, her small body crumpling to her knees beneath its force. Sobs wracked her frame as a truth she desperately didn’t want to accept forced itself into reality before her eyes.

Her uncle emerged from the flames, his scarred face twisted like something risen from hell itself, and in his hand, he held the severed head of her father.

She cried out, the horrifying realization settling over her: if this monster could kill her father, the strongest and purest werewolf in the land, then no hope remained for anyone.

"Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little brat that made my brother weak," he sneered, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "I think it would be a shame if I didn’t let you meet your parents. After all, you were always clinging to them anyway." He dropped his gruesome prize carelessly, and it bounced once, rolling to a stop directly before the trembling child.

Annalise stared down into the shocked, empty eyes of her father, and her breath caught painfully in her throat. She understood instantly that he’d been caught unaware, his death swift and utterly without mercy. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to her uncle, the same man who had tried to kill her two years before. He had never loved her, had always resented losing his claim to the throne to a mere girl, a resentment that curdled into hatred over time.

It was, in fact, his failed attempt to kill her that had left him scarred. He had crept into her room one night intending to strangle her, but thanks to secret training her father had insisted upon, she managed to fight free and escape. She’d run screaming through the halls, desperate for her father’s protection. Guards rushed to investigate, and by the time her father arrived, two loyal servants already held his treacherous brother firmly restrained. The guards meant to protect her that night were nowhere to be found, and it was later discovered her uncle had bribed them into abandoning their posts.

He’d tried, of course, to deny everything, claiming the child had merely suffered a nightmare and that he’d simply been passing by to comfort her. But the bruises blooming dark across her small arms and throat told a far different story. He was stripped immediately of all titles and power, thrown into a cell to await morning judgment. His trial came first, and the verdict was swift: he would live, but marked forever as a warning against threatening the royal family. Guards held him steady as the king himself delivered the punishment, burning him with fire laced with ancient magic, rarely used, designed to leave a wound that would never heal, a permanent brand of betrayal. Afterward, the king banished his brother from the territory entirely, forbidding his return under any circumstance.

Annalise had crept away that day to witness the punishment firsthand, and she would never forget the acrid stench of burning flesh or the ruined, disfigured face now looming before her once more.

She scrambled backward as he advanced, terror closing her throat. "Now, I can finish what I started some time ago, eh, Princess?" he sneered, reaching for her with cruel anticipation.

Someone shouted his name from a distance, granting her a precious moment. She kicked hard at his knee, the same one her father once told her he’d damaged years ago falling from a tree as a pup, and the blow sent him stumbling off balance. She scrambled to her feet and bolted toward the trees, their branches now glowing orange from the flames consuming her childhood home. She ran with everything her small legs could give, his furious, frustrated roar chasing after her like a living shadow.

Annalise ran and ran, lungs burning, certain they might burst, but she refused to stop. She wove desperately between trees, guided by some small, insistent voice within her. Branches rustled around her, leaves crushed beneath pursuing footsteps, and she began to pray fervently, begging whatever powers might listen for a way to escape this nightmare.

Ahead, a shimmering portal suddenly bloomed to life in the darkness. With one last terrified glance behind her, she plunged through it, praying with everything left in her small, breaking heart that this was merely a terrible dream, one she could soon wake from and desperately wanted to forget forever.

I fell to my knees, tears streaking hot down my face. I was the Princess. This had been my past, and now, finally, I understood where I’d come from and how I’d ended up within Bloodmoon territory. El looked at me steadily, and understanding dawned; this was my wolf, the very voice that had guided me safely through countless woods and had once used her power to tear open that portal, an act that should only have been possible after years of dedicated training.

I turned to face the other part of myself. "How did you open the portal?"

El sighed heavily, gazing back toward the now-quiet castle, its flames finally settling against the darkened sky. "Usually it takes years of practice, but your fear, your desperate urgency, awakened powers within you far sooner than intended. This would have been the very day I awoke through the ceremony, as happens for everyone here when they turn five, but dire circumstances and extreme stress can force someone to tap into powers before they’re ready. That’s precisely what happened to you. But because of it, I couldn’t fully appear to you, not until you found your mates."

I sobbed, wrapping my arms tightly around my wolf, grateful beyond words for her steady presence. This meant I wasn’t merely an omega, unwanted and overlooked, but in fact a Princess, carrying powers that most in the ordinary world couldn’t even imagine.

"Another thing," El continued gently. "The young siblings you saw earlier are your sworn protectors, and they managed to follow you into your world, though my magic wasn’t strong enough to keep them together. They ended up scattered, lost in a different place entirely. But now they’ve found you again, and they’ll share everything they can. You can trust them completely."

Trishelle, no, Annalise, only hugged her wolf tighter, comfort and grief tangled together inside her chest. "I want to see my mates," she whispered.

El gently instructed her to close her eyes and think of them, her voice soft and soothing. Following those instructions, the painful memories slowly drifted away, replaced by a warm, comforting darkness unlike anything she’d fel