SLAVES TO THE MOON BOOK 1 : DENYING BRADY

The entire pack watched fire burn away the last remnants of our traitors. I don't remember much of the important details that led to their burning but its the urgency at which our pack’s Oracle fell to her knees in begging submission that I vividly remember. The old silver-haired lady shot a loud screeching cry to heaven, tears cascading down her wrinkled hundred-something-year-old face. Everyone was stunned beyond words when she bowed to the crowd.

She had bowed to the crowd.

The Oracle bowed only to the blue-blooded line but on that night, she bowed to the entire pack. With agony, she shed blood tears and fell to the ground until she finally delivered the message she had so violently received from the gods. The message strongly urged all guardians and parents to better educate their offspring. Repeatedly and often about the grave importance of never provoking our gods.

That very night my mother used her title in the pack to sanction a regulated cleansing ritual on the entire pack. She also made an executive decision within our family walls. Where for a week straight she dedicated herself to putting my sister and me to bed by telling us traditional stories.

On the week’s last evening everyone hadn’t forgotten of the traitors and how they had angered the gods with disobedience on the sacred ground no less but no one spoke on it. Not even my father who as the pack’s head council member had to carry the burden of offering up a sacrifice to the gods in the heartlands of our territory. Which consisted of the entire region on the west coast.

On that last week’s evening, the night was warm, alive and the moon was at its fullest and brightest, flirting with the black of the sky. Ma seemed particularly high on herself judging by the way she had carried herself and treated others throughout the day. Even the way she was smiling was a marvel to watch as she read to me and my twin sister folklore stories. With embedded moral lessons, she knew would mould us into custom-abiding were-people. The stories she read were an adventure to drown in, to the point where she didn’t think twice when my twin sister - Malia asked to be excused for a bathroom break. Nor did I feel the need to point out that my twin sister - Malia had in fact snuck out.

“You didn’t leave with your sister?” Mama enquired once she put the book down and realised her daughter wasn’t going to come back from her ′bathroom break’.

I lowered my eyes and flipped a page from one of her thick Pack history books. “No.”

“You could join her if you want?” ma brushed a hair from my face, “Do you know where she’s snuck off to tonight?”

“I don’t.” I lied with a straight face, I knew exactly where she was. She and every other were-kid our age except me had been invited by the Alpha’s son, who was also in our age group. To the centre of the forest to spy on the older kids in high school. Anyway, I carried on, “but even if I knew, where she’s at. I don’t feel like going out.”

I wasn’t as outgoing as the other kids and to a degree, I think it’s because of this that they sometimes forgot I was just like them. A were-person that liked community and was as equally fascinated by the moon full or crescent. I was just like them, curious about the older kids that could turn at will and do daredevil stunts at midnight bonfire parties.

But no one took care to invite me.

Not even my own sister whose choice of friends left little to be desired. The circles she ran around in were made up of people that found fun in making fun of me for everything that I did and didn’t do. All their taunting and sneering at the Brady Victrolli’s lead which meant that there wasn’t much I could do. He was the Alpha’s son, my parents feared his parents, so I had nobody to report him to.

Ma perused my hair and kissed me at the top of my head. In words unspoken, she knew why I couldn’t tag along on Malia’s adventures. I felt grateful each time she didn’t speak on it because it was humiliating. “Maybe you want a snack then?” She lifted my face and made me face her. “There’s peri-peri Wild biltong from the Alter in the kitchen. Want me to grab it for you baby?”

I shook my head and smiled, “No, I’m alright. Can we start another story?”

Mama’s hand cupped my cheek. Her hand felt very warm and in its warmth radiated much comfort. She took away the large history book that sat heavily on my thighs and was almost the size of me at that age of eight. “I have a better idea, feel like going out with me?”

Three or so hours later we were back in her Ford Ranger driving away from the Sacred Caves that only the council members had access to. The walls of the caves stored much passion and history on them. Amongst other enthralling things, the walls in the cave were clawed at, bloodied and drawn on. As Ma gave me a tour of the Sacred Caves she would point out one thing or the other and each thing in there had a story behind it.

One of the most fascinating stories in there had not been a majestic tragic love story that ended in the death and oblivion of a couple.

The picture story told was that of a reluctant Alpha She Wolf and her deceased sister’s Delta husband. The She-wolf had refused to be held responsible for the well-being of a Delta male when she had a massive pack with more than a million in its population to protect. She was the first female Alpha, dating back to two centuries ago when werewolves lived in harmony with humans and other supernatural creatures. This was also before the First Wolves war when tribes in the same pack were non-existent. These details made the story very dated and very unfair, of the way she had been punished for not accepting her mate. It was her sister’s husband, I couldn’t imagine myself marrying my brother’s widow. I really didn’t get it.

“What don’t you get honey?” She brushed my hair from my face when she parked right in front of our house and smiled down at me. Her eyes had taken a turn for a sea-blue in colour. They changed colour for no reason sometimes and that was the only thing I had inherited from her despite wishing I had her naturally sun-kissed complexion and shiny long curls.

“The whole thing, it sounds very unfair to have no choice at all in who your mate is or if you want to accept them. Can’t witches break the bond if it causes that much pain to one of the mates?”

Her feather-soft laugh echoed in the warm vanilla-scented car “oh honey, there are no more witches and besides the bond was not made to be broken, It only causes hellish agony if you fight it and even then death will be a much better fate than what the gods will inflict on your soul. No matter who your mate ends up being. The gods always have a reason, you will have to trust them with all of you.”

I sighed facing the house and nodded.

The gods never got anything wrong, they never made mistakes even at that age I trusted them with both of my beings. At that same moment, something occurred to me. The town we lived in had a larger population of oblivious humans. Who thought of werewolves in the same way they thought of meta-humans, actual world peace and talking chipmunks. Malia convinced me that this was because of a spell cast on Mother Nature by witches who were too extinct to reverse it.

There were rumoured vampires but none of us had ever caught a whiff of them. Even though my brother - Mateo literally sucked at his index finger swearing up and down he’d sniffed out one before in school. Both my siblings preached with conviction and knew more or everything than I knew so I found it easy to believe all that they told me. But then again they had once had me believe that my wolf had a neon rainbow tail. So I had to ask to be sure. “Are you sure there are no witches Mama? Because I’m told by Nevanji and Malia that they exist?”

“Malia plays around too much, you know her and I’ll have a talk with our family’s Nevanji about these jokes ok?” She smiled kindly at me, tucking a dark lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t make it easy for your brother and sister to make entertainment out of you ok?”

I nodded. At that time I was still new to the world, so I was pretty gullible. A thing that I later realised encouraged my siblings to play around with my thought process for their fun.

Then we both watched as Mateo - whom we called Nevanji on occasion as per custom. A Nevanji was an old wolf term used to refer to a family’s firstborn son. A firstborn son was believed to give and predict good fortune to a family’s bloodline. Mateo was our family’s Nevanji in every sense of the word. Ma and I both watched him as he dragged Malia by her wolf form back into the house.

Ma and I both laughed as we could easily surmise that my twin sister was still pathetically in her wolf form because she couldn’t easily shift back to her human form. Without guidance, without having gone through adolescence to help her to shift on. Odds were she had probably shifted out of fear from being caught by our Nevanji who was stomping into the front garage with disappointment.

“Malik baby.” I faced Ma and met gazes with her eyes that had now taken a royal blue shade. “Never disobey the gods Alright? You have to trust that they know best alright?”

I nodded not trusting myself to give any more questions.

Humans had options when it came to love. They could choose with liberal freedom whom they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with solely from heart or choose to be alone clear of any partner and not have it affect their health or social standing.

Whereas for us werewolves we were created in such a way that to put it simply. Our human form could only stand to live with one soul that was knitted together with a werewolf form. Now this soul we had was only half a soul and the other soul was put in another ′vessel of a being.′ A vessel we would all have to find and connect with when the gods time allowed. This is what we considered to be the mating factor, a factor that held time and place particularly important factors for everything. Thus we didn’t have designated days or years for when we were obliged to find our mates.

Some felt the pull at eight others at eighteen most at twenty-eight even more at thirty-eight and a handful at fort eight. It could really happen at any time for everyone except Alphas, Betas, Zetas and Omegas stemming from the ruling bloodline. The gods had made it this way so that the power dynamic field would be equal. Allowing the Blue Blood in whatever pack rank to be at the mercy of their lessor partner whilst the pack was at the mercy of the Blue Blood. In short, it was the partner of a blue blood who got the tweak of the pull first. Giving them reign and control of making the first move.

This seemed very fair to me, it meant no one had absolute power.

According to the books I would read throughout the years after that night. I learned one only had five years after their first pull to accept the bond with a kiss. A kiss wasn’t enough to solidify the bond though, what was required for that made me blush furiously. One time as I doing my light reading I bumped into a very old book in the school library. The book was in old text, the kind you have to sit down with highlighters and a thesaurus to understand. One of its chapters spoke of the she-wolf Ma had told me about. Apparently, rejections never happened and where were people doubted their mates. The fear of what was deemed as worse than death stopped them from rejecting their mates. The gods could be wrathful and were known to be short-handed on forgiveness.

So I perfectly understood that fear.

Who wouldn’t?

And who would dare go against the gods?