The Last Spirit Wolf (Elena Norwood)

-Vera-

"Time for what?" I ask him, turning to look at the waterfall, or more specifically the gemstones, with newfound understanding. "Is that why it glows like that?" I ask. I have no shortage of questions in my mind for my dad. What happened to my mom? I understand why he couldn't be with me physically, but why couldn't she? "Has anyone ever told you the meaning of your name?"

He interrupts my train of thought. I shake my head.

"Your mother and I couldn't agree on a name, really. Her name, 'Alina,' means 'light', and she truly was that; a source of light for me and everyone who had the pleasure of crossing paths with her, even if only momentarily. She believed that names held power over people, that it somehow manifested what our lives would be," he pauses, laughing a little. "I wanted to name you 'Dina', it means 'warrior of the sea. You see, I'm really a water warlock, everything else, every other skill I learned, was always anchored in the way my magic flowed like water; but she didn't like the connotation it carried with it. She thought it destined you to a life of struggle and fighting. So, she wanted to name you 'Ada', it means 'happy, but it felt too... too simple... you know? Like there had to be more to it. There had to be more to your existence than just being obliviously happy when there is so much more to the world and to life. *Just* being happy in a world that has so much more to offer seemed... bland." He pauses for a minute, gauging my reaction, "some people would argue that 'Vera' means 'truth, which is certainly fitting considering what your mere existence as a spirit wolf would mean to the world; how it would reshape our understanding of all species and even the essence of magic itself. Nonetheless, they'd be wrong. 'Vera' means 'faith.' So, even if we both knew the risks you'd be constantly under just by existing, and even if we knew that your life would not always be pretty and happy, we hoped, with every inch of our hearts, that you'd be loved madly and have moments of euphoric bliss in your life; even if not all the time. So, we had faith that despite everything, we'd guarantee you an overall joyous life. But now, I see that your name has an even deeper meaning than that."

He pauses again, taking a moment to stare at me, gauging his next words carefully.

"Vera, you are not dead," he says.

I frown.

"What? But I'm here with you, how can I *not* be dead? Besides, I no longer feel any pain, or my wolf, or my..." I choke, suddenly remembering.

I can't feel my baby either.

"My child, transferring my essence to the gemstones does not mean I died. My physical body may have died, but I just transformed into another plain of existence; my essence, my *being* is still in the emeralds, much like magic is living but not alive." "I don't... I don't understand then... why... why am I here?" I stutter, trying to digest what this

means.

He puts his hands on my cheeks.

"Vera, you are not dead," he repeats for emphasis, "I transferred you here so that I could talk to you, so that I could tell you the truth. So that you could finally wake up."

I frown at him. Surely, I'm still missing something because none of this makes sense. Wake up?

"My child. You can't feel your baby because he is not here, his power is still in the other realm, trying to save you. And you can't feel your wolf because you *are* her. You are no ordinary wolf, Vera, you are a *spirit wolf.* Your spirit and your wolf are one in the same. She is a reflection of you and you are a reflection of her. You are *one in the same.* There is no distinction of where your essence begins and hers ends. Do you understand what I'm saying?" He asks carefully.

Still, dumbfounded, I shake my head.

His tone becomes more urgent.

*

"Vera, your wolf isn't the source of your magic, *you are.* *You* are not a vessel for her magic, you are not a magical conductor. *You are magic itself. There is no difference between the magic that freely flows in nature and yours. The Witch Mother may be intimating, she may be the most powerful of all of us, but you, my child, have been blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. She knew the mission she'd assigned you centuries before your birth, and she blessed you accordingly." My heart suddenly starts beating faster, making it hard to breathe.

"Do not be afraid, my dear, this will hurt, but I am *always* with you," he turns his eyes to my collarbone, looking at the necklace Dr. Owens gave me. It is made of the emeralds from Jade Waterfall. I clutch it instinctively, understanding.

"Now, wake up, Vera."

"What?"

"Wake up!"

I feel him becoming distant even though he's standing right in front of me. The warmth of his hands on my face slowly dissipates.

"I don't understand!" I yell at him, feeling him slip further and further.

"WAKE UP!" he screams, suddenly pounding his fist on my chest, painfully.

Unexpectedly. I open my eyes and desperately gasp for air, as if I had been submerged in water and deprived of oxygen for a while.

Quickly, everything around me starts to clear up and I finally remember where I am.

The Witch Mother is standing in front of me, holding the knife to my heart with both hands and using all of her strength to try and pierce my heart. Her eyes and expression have turned almost animalistic, with elongated teeth and deep, hollowed eyes; she looks very pale and thin, too, almost like a corpse.

"Mistress! We're under attack!" I hear Marcus yelling from behind me.

"How many?!" Helena asks.

I stare at Helena as well; she too has changed, no longer looking like an innocent child and looking more like an old, old lady.

"It's an entire army! Wolves, lycans, humans, it doesn't make sense!" Marcus yells.

"They're here for her!" The Witch Mother growls, "take care of it! We too have an army!"

I hear Marcus run up the stairs, not closing the door behind him.

"Mistress?!" Helena asks, panicked.

"It's fine! I just need to absorb her magic and I'll take care of them myself," she says, still struggling with the knife.

Helena quickly starts chanting again, her hands clasped together in hushed prayer.

"Aghhhh." the Witch Mother yells, exerting all of her force on the knife, but it won't budge; it won't move past a few centimeters into my chest. "You useless mutt, what are you doing?!"

I'm just staring at her and all of my surroundings. Now, I can see everything so clearly, almost as if I had my wolf's eyes but without turning. I can even see some sheer, iridescence dancing off of the Witch Mother, Helena, and some other objects in this place. I now know that to be their essence, their magic. In contrast, I turn my head towards Harriet, there is nothing emanating from her.Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

Finally, I turn my full attention to the Witch Mother. She's been so focused on my chest, that she has yet to meet my eyes.

When she feels me staring at her, she finally meets my gaze.

She freezes immediately, her monstrous eyes wide.

"No..." she whispers.

She drops the knife and takes several steps back.

"Helena!" She calls.

Helena looks up, finally noticing what caused her mistress's reaction. She too blanches.

Both of them immediately link hands and start chanting, each holding a palm up to me.

There's buzzing in my ears, but as they chant louder and louder, I can't feel their spell taking any effect on me.

I close my eyes for a brief second, searching for my wolf.

She comes to the surface, and now, I finally understand what my dad was trying to tell me.

I place my hand on her chin as she lowers her forehead to mine, looking and feeling much better.

*How could I expect to understand you, when I didn't even understand myself?*

She slowly nods. She knew this all along, or rather, deep down, *1* knew this all along; I was

just missing the most important piece, one that my dad just gave me.

Now, I know *who* I am.

I was never a wolf, nor was I a witch.

I am a *spirit wolf.*

Only now, I actually know what that means.

I open my eyes again, zeroing in on the Witch Mother.