"You've schooled your servant well, it seems." Alpha Dahmer didn't hesitate to begin another one of his charades, his voice dripping with malice as he addressed Esme, but she remained provokingly quiet.
When news of her demise reached his ears, he was a bit bothered by the end result.
He deliberately withheld this information from the rest of the pack, fearing that his actions would tarnish his hard-won reputation and undermine the very power he had maneuvered so ruthlessly to attain.
Esme's body was not able to withstand such torture, but he was so angry that he acted blindly without thinking about the consequences it would impact on him later. He wished she wasn't a Montague, he wished he was the one who had been born under the Montague name, cause if he was, he would have been blessed with the moon goddess's gift, and he wouldn't have to entangle himself in a web of deceit, just to become an Alpha.
It was because of her and no one else. She is the architect of his problem.
As he loomed over her, he was acutely aware of the fear that radiated off her, but beneath the surface of her terror, there was something else about her he couldn't pinpoint. Her changed aura disturbed him.
"A little performance, wasn't it?" he jeered, "faking your own death must have been a brilliant strategy for you to incriminate me. Perhaps I should reduce you to ashes, right here, right now." he snarled, but both of them knew that as much as he desired it, he could not.
Esme didn't have the strength to retort and stayed quiet. Even if she said something to defend herself, Dahmer would hit her, and what she experienced so far was enough to keep her mouth shut for the meantime.
She hadn't realized that Dahmer was busy scrutinizing her shorn locks until he asked. "Why did you mutilate our heritage? Did you fail to remind your pathetic self the reason why you bear this hair in the first place?" his voice was calm as he began a conversation, and Esme wondered where this gentleness was coming from.
He drew closer, pulling a chair beside her bed and forcing Esme to recoil. Her gaze darted away from his piercing stare, but he ignored her paranoia and continued.
"Long time ago," he reclined in his chair. "The ancient Montagues were blessed by the Luna deity, who granted them the gift of blue hair. The deity made a promise that as long as the blue hair was preserved, our family and our packs would thrive. You on the other hand, you seem cursed from the moment of birth. You not only lack a wolf, but you are weak and disconnected from the moon's power, unlike my brother Finnian, who was able to transform at such a young age, and he is infused with the lunar essence, despite having two mixed colors of hairs."
He sneered. "The problem isn't your hair, Esme, but your very existence. By coming to this world alone, you've brought death to your mother during her delivery, and your mere presence was the catalyst for our father's demise. And as if that weren't enough, you're wolf-less, an aberration in our pack. What I tried to do for you should have been a favor in your eyes, cause you're a burden, a useless appendage."
He took a pause and leaned forward. "You asked me before why I hated you, why I despise you so much that I want to murder you, so I'm telling you this, I hate you because you're the reason our father never loved my mother. I hate you because you're the reason he rejected Finnian cause he didn't want a child from my mother. You are the reason why I'm like this! You did this to me! And it hurts me every single time I see Finnian standing up for someone like you! Your father never really loved my mother since the day he married her, and he only married her so you could have a mother. Every decision he made, every action he took was to benefit you and you alone. But what about us? Our feelings, our worth??"
Esme shook her head when he finally poured out his feelings, and she tried her best to clear out the misunderstanding he had. "You're mistaken about Father! Father loved all of us and he always had our best interest at heart! He was only being careful about his emotions but he…"
Dahmer threw his head back and laughed, cutting her mid-sentence. "Save your silly excuses for someone who's desperate to hear them. Stop trying to be the good one in this story! He is no more, so don't give me that baseless crap! You should worry about yourself from now on, cause even the moon goddess herself seems to have abandoned you. It leaves me wondering, why bother pretending to live at all? You're a constant reminder of failure, a liability no one wants or needs. If I were in your shoes, I'd take the merciful route and end my own suffering. Ah… yes, we tried that already, but even death itself seems to have rejected you, a cruel irony you turned out to be in the end."
"Dahmer…" Esme could not believe he said all those hurtful things to her.
He met her shattered gaze, and he felt satisfaction from the way she looked at him—a broken little thing, that was what he wanted her to feel, to experience. He rose to his feet and turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"Stay in your chambers and never show your ugly face to the world again." He slammed the door after leaving, causing her body to jerk at the loud bang. The silence that followed was short-lived, as Vivienne stepped into the room after his exit.
—----~♡~--------
In a sunken fortress located near the black river in Illyria, a shadowed figure dressed in sable attire crossed the threshold of the dark citadel.
The fortress was forged from a mysterious, gleaming obsidian stone that stood as a sentinel against intruders, forbidding any souls from breaching past the walls. But, the fortress's protection was not enough to condemn the figure who strolled in, his steps unhurried and unbothered, like he owned the place.
The guards stationed at the building's main entrance grew tense as a figure in black emerged from the murky mist beyond the giant gates. He paused mid-stride, and the two guards exchanged wary glances before settling it on the figure ahead.
Swathed in a voluminous black cloak that billowed behind him, the intruder's hood casted a deep shadow over his visage, rendering it impossible for the guards to discern his features. The wind howled in their ears, but the guardians of the fortress refused to submit to the underlying threat whispered to them.
These guardians have long manned their post, aware that those who sought entry to the fortress held no benevolent intention in mind. If they did, they wouldn't be here.
"State your mission." One of the guards stepped forward to question the intruder, his tone demanding, whilst his hand rested on the hilt of his blade, his grip tightening against the leather.
"You aren't allowed to be here. This environment is forbidden to all but the initiated. Leave at once!" The guard's voice was stern as he commanded, making the consequences of his defiance known by unsheathing his blade, but the figure ahead tilted his head.
In a slow, deliberate motion, the figure reached for something at his belt, the eyes of the guard tailing his movement, but what followed defied comprehension or logic. It was an act so swift and terrible, it seemed like the work of dark magic.
The guards stood frozen when the figure casually turned his back to them, but something was disturbingly off. His fingers were bloody, and blood dripped from the four star blades clutched between them. With a voice that sounded husky, he muttered a word.
"One, two…"
As if on cue, the heads of the two guards fell from their neck, neatly sliced off and not even the guards themselves realized till it was too late. Their bodies crumpled to the ground in a sickening thud, and the figure turned his head slightly to the side when he heard the sounds of an alarm bell being rang.
"THE FORTRESS IS UNDER ATTACK!! THE FORTRESS IS UNDER ATTACK!!"
The guard in charge of the bell made the announcement from up the tower, alerting the patrolling guards below, but he was soon silenced when a star blade connected with his neck.
The gruesome scene triggered the guards who rushed to the entrance to be met with the dead bodies of their fellow comrade. They charged at the intruder with a face scrunched in anger and fear, their bodies shifting into wolves mid-air as they lunged at the figure.
A few minutes later, the figure in black strode purposefully through the silent hallway, the fetid stench of blood and death clinging heavily in the air. The sounds of his boot echoed through the stone passage as he ascended the staircase, punctuated by the soft thud of someone's head being kicked aside.
Entering the fortress's main core, the figure approached the oak tree that had been magically planted in the heart of the fortress. The once healthy tree had turned dry, twisted and gnarled over the years, with crimson, cable-like threads that look like nerves, stretching through the trunks, stems and branches.
The roots formed an impenetrable barrier to restrict anyone from getting close, but the figure remained unfazed at the sight. With a deliberate slowness, he raised his hand, and the air seemed to shimmer with a dark energy as he manipulated the roots with an unseen force, parting them to create a path, and he moved.
He stopped before the dead looking oak tree and placed his palm against the tree trunk. In an instant, the nerves on the trees began to pierce through his skin, entering his body and spreading throughout his entire system.
He groaned from the pain, his body trembling from the burning sensation that shot through him, but he didn't stop — he would never stop, not until every bundle of nerves, every power that was stolen from him were consumed by him. The crimson cables vanished, and the figure looked at his trembling hand to see the nerves pulsing inside of him before settling down.
He exhaled in relief, and a low, menacing chuckle followed, whilst he clenched his palm tightly.
"Finally." From beneath his dark cloak, he grinned, revealing sharp canines that glinted at the tip.
—----~♡~--------
When Esme awoke in the middle of the night, her stomach growled with hunger. She tried her best to soothe the rebellious rumbling before it woke up Vivienne, and luckily, her maid seemed to be in a deep slumber.
Vivienne was sleeping peacefully on a nearby couch, surrounded by the comfort of the bookshelf. This loyal maid of hers had been by her side all day, and Esme didn't want to rouse her from her well-deserved slumber.
With gentle care for her bandaged back, Esme slipped out of bed and retrieved a soft duvet from her drawer. She draped it carefully over Vivienne's sleeping form, feeling more at ease knowing she was comfortable, but she also wished her maid could give herself a little break. She had suggested this many times, but Vivienne would kindly decline her offer, saying she had to be by her lady's side at all times.
Moreover, having to inhale the smell of herbs and medicine everyday had made her room seem more like a makeshift infirmary than a bedroom chamber. Vivienne was doing more than enough tolerating this with her.
"Hm?"
Sensing that something was oddly out of place with her body tonight, Esme slowly, unconsciously, ran her fingers over her bandaged back. Each touch brought a sharp pain, making her wince softly, but otherwise, it was surprisingly bearable, especially considering that it had only been two days.
Blinking in confusion as she probed her wound, Esme murmured to herself, "I'm healing already?" She sounded skeptical and bewildered by her sudden recovery.
Her wounds take a long time to heal due to her frail body. It compromised her immune system and hindered her body's natural repair process, so being bedridden for a week or more before gaining the strength to stand was her usual recommendation. However, only two days have gone by since her ordeal, and she found herself defying her body's physiology by rising from her bed.
First it was her pulse, now this?
It was uncharacteristic of her body.
Coming to a mental agreement that her hunger was the only reason she found the strength to rise from her bed, she wrapped a shawl around her body and exited the room. The pack guards were on their usual night patrol in the hallway, but Esme was more concerned about her hunger than the possibility of one of Lady Percy's spies monitoring her, and she entered the kitchen.
Fortunately, there was still some covered food left in the pots, and it was warm, suggesting it had been prepared recently. She wondered who had instructed the servants to cook so late at night.
Helping herself to a modest portion of roasted meat, bread, and a small bowl of stew, Esme walked to the front yard, where she came across Finnian. He was sitting on the steps, deep in thoughts, silently gazing at the moon. A steaming mug of tea was beside him, and he held a plate of food in his hand.
"Finn?" She called softly, and he turned his head at the sound of her voice.
"Sister Esme?" he uttered, the surprise in his eyes as she approached, and Esme joined him on the steps, sitting next to him.
Her voice was gentle as she whispered, and her eyes sparkled as she gazed at the twinkling stars in the dark blue sky. "The stars are mesmerizing, aren't they? Did you know, there's an old tale that says when our loved ones leave this world, their spirits become one with the stars, watching over us from above." She glanced at Finnian, who was also looking at the stars, and he shook his head gently.
"Why are you eating so late?" Esme finally asked. "Didn't you join everyone else for dinner? Eating late isn't healthy, you know."
Finnian arched an eyebrow and gave her a look that seemed to question the extent of her seriousness. His gaze shifted from the meal in her hand to her face, a silent judgment in his analyzing stare, followed by the crossing of his arms. Esme quickly tried to defend herself.
"I was sleeping, don't give me that look." She pouted, taking a bite of her roasted meat and chewing deliberately. Finnian's usually neutral gaze softened, and as he watched her eat, he felt his lost appetite returning.
His gaze returned to his plate of food, and he frowned. "I don't like them at all." That word fell from his lips, and Esme paused in her eating, unable to comprehend what he meant by that phrase.
"What?"
"Mother, brother Dahmer." His grip on his plate tightened. "I think I remember now, it feels like a dream, but mother and brother weren't always like this, were they? A lot of things changed after Father's death. They promised me it was just a phase, and that things would go back to normal, but I'm not a fool anymore. I see now that they only care about themselves, their own power and pride. They do whatever they want as long as it feeds their ego. They don't care if their actions hurt those close to them at all. I hate them for it!" The words spilled out, a mixture of hurt and disillusionment poured into every context.
Esme placed a comforting hand on his trembling shoulder. "Finnian, you don't mean that," she coaxed.
"I do mean it!" He shook off her soothing touch. "They hurt you everyday, yet you keep making excuses for them all the time. They don't deserve our love or our loyalty, and I'll never forgive brother Dahmer for hurting you the way he did, nor will I forget it, never!" he gritted out.
Finnian's light sobs caught in his throat, and only then did it hit her that he had been fighting back tears.
His small frame shuddered as he scrubbed his tears with the back of his sleeve, and his watery eyes looked pleading. "I was so scared of Dahmer. If you had…if you had died because of brother Dahmer's hate, I'd be completely alone. You're the only one who's ever truly cared for me, you're the only one I can rely on in this pack. No one else cares, no one else has looked out for me like you have. And they tried to take that away from me too. They're not good people at all!"
Esme's eyes welled up with tears as she gazed at Finnian, but she quickly wiped them away before he noticed. Unsure of how best to comfort her little brother, Esme set her plate aside and opened her arms, enveloping him in a warm, reassuring embrace.
"I'm so sorry you had to witness that, you weren't supposed to see any of that." she said calmly. "But please, don't let it darken your heart to the point of hate. The Finnian I know is a shining example of goodness and kindness, and trust me when I say, your brother and mother love you deeply. That is something no one will ever be able to take away from you. In fact, I'm the one who should be proud, your bold bravery protected me from Dahmer, and I'm safe now because I have a little hero of my own. I'm truly grateful to have you by my side." she gave him a gentle squeeze, their cheeks rubbing, and Finnian's face reddened, flustered by his sister's heartfelt display.
"There's chicken sauce in your hand."
"Don't ruin the moment." Esme did not release him despite his complaint, and he rolled his eyes, but a subtle smile curved his stiff lips.
"I want to get stronger so that I can protect you." Finnian's voice was muffled since she still held him in a tight squeeze, and he pulled back to look at her. "I had a training session today, and my instructor said I'm making lots of progress."
"I see, so you aspire to be a fine warrior when you come of age?" Esme was relieved to finally steer the conversation towards a more uplifting topic. She wiped her fingers with the extra napkins he brought. "I can already imagine you, swinging your sword with confidence and shifting into a very powerful wolf. You'll be just like our father was in his prime — fearless, brave, and strong. And one day, you will lead."
"When that time comes, I'll take you with me, away from here." Finnian uttered with a fierce glint in his blue eyes. "I'll take you someplace far from here."
"And I'll happily go with you." Esme chuckled, patting him lovingly on the head. It was hard to believe that they were only half-siblings, given the stark difference between how he and Dahmer treated her.
Hidden from view behind a pillar, Alpha Rhyne listened in on the conversation, and a fleeting glimmer of regret crossed his face. With a quiet sigh, he slipped away unnoticed.
"Sister Esme, what kind of curse do you think you'll have?" Finnian inquired, his gaze lingering on the blue-tinted tip of his hair. "If I cut my hair, will everyone hate me too?"
"You won't be cutting your hair, and no one will hate you." Esme said gently, dispelling that thought from his head. "You look better with your hair just the way it is"
"What about you? What's going to happen to you? Do you think your suffering in the pack might somehow reverse the curse?" He blinked innocently.
"I don't know." Esme sighed. She honestly has no idea what type of curse would visit her, but she couldn't imagine anything worse than her current torment.
"Forget about it and eat your food."
Together, they shared their meal, talking about other interesting matters while also admiring the starry sky. Their tranquil night was disrupted by the sharp caw of a crow. They glanced up to find the bird perched on a nearby tree, its call resonating within the night.
"CAW CAW CAW CAW!!"
"A crow?" Esme murmured.
Finnian shrugged, "it's been hanging around that same tree since yesterday. I thought it left for good when it wasn't there this morning." He took a spoonful of food. "Mother says crows are a bad omen, but I think they're cool. Their calls are just…" he couldn't think of a perfect word and left it at that.
He wasn't disturbed by the crow's presence, and Esme tried to hide her own discomfort.
When they both finally headed inside, the crow took flight, disappearing into the night.
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