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    Wolffang
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Clovers End - 11. Changing Tide

Alex P.O.V

I stare at her flabbergasted unable to react. My mind races, dizzyingly fast. Reality threatens and I know my life as I've known it has been nothing but a lie. Jame's hand firmly grips my shoulder. I presume in an attempt to offer some kind of reassurance. I turn to face him. Those eyes of sparkling jaded blue, daringly try to lure me into their comforting depths. It shows me a vast oceanic landscape, rich with experience, deep with admiration, flowing with abundant concern. These soulful colours run wild, offering me the solace that I yearn for, but do not deserve.

This mental despair was not caused by him and yet, here he is steady-handed and tender expression. He harbors such strong feelings for me. I felt it the moment we met. I cannot deny the spark that no doubt ignited in my chest the moment our eyes met. Whether or not this is fate or supernatural forces at work, everything is happening way too quickly. I'm nauseated by the internal battle, ravaging my mind as it tries to process everything I've just heard. My body moves on it's own, pushing his touch away.

"This is a lot to take in. I'm sorry" my voice comes out hoarser than intended. I need to compose myself. Without another word I walk away, finding a place to sit.

"Hey. Are you alright kiddo?" Rachel asks as she slides down beside me.

"I think so. I just thought I knew my Mom but I guess I never really did. " I say in a low whisper.

"You and me both." she connects our gazes. I can see the years of hurt in her once charismatic eyes. I suddenly feel self-conscious of my existence. Perhaps I just serve as physical reminder of everything she is and was. I wonder how she's taking all this.

"Enough about me Aunt Rachel. What about you? How are you feeling?" The words stumble out my mouth.

"Still struggling to grasp a few things here and there but for the most part, I'm good. It's weird to think that I'm somebody's Aunt but spending this time with you makes me glad that I'm yours." she smiles warmly as she nudges my side.

"Me too." I whisper, pulling her into a hug.

"Not being your Aunt" I stutter "I mean being your nephew."

She chuckles vehemently "It's alright kid, I got you the first time."

"So uhmm... about James and I..." I stammer, turning to look at him feeling blood rise to my cheeks. He catches my gaze. I whip back around hoping he didn't notice.

"I know... it was a shock to me too. To think you would inherit Diana's mate." she trails off "To a degree, I can kind of see where my sister was coming from. To be destined to be with someone you barely know. To have to bind your lives together eternally through rite and ritual. It's a bit hectic, unfair even. What god would allow such a terrible fate to befall their devotees? She must have been so lonely and now you've inherited her burden too. I won't let things unravel the way they did. I know things will be different this time. You'll have something she didn’t." she explains.

"What would that be?" I ask curiously.

"Me." she replies simply.

"You?" I question puzzled.

"Yeah." she hesitates before she responds "Regardless of how many offspring the descendant has, only one of them can inherit the blood right and that offspring passes it on to the next generation. I was jealous of your mom. She was not only a God Descendant but she was beautiful, smart, kind and caring. She had this ability to draw people in. She was just that kind of personality. Ironically, a lot similar to you. I always felt like I was walking in her shadow and consequently, I wasn't there for her when she needed me. I never noticed her smiling through the pain, but things are different now. I promise to make up for my past regrets and be to you, what I wasn't to her." she says as she stares off, zoning out into a place I can not follow.

"Thank you." I whisper. I can't help but feel moved by this gesture.

"You're not mad?" she breaks her meditated state to look at me.

"No. Not at all. Why?" I inquire.

"I thought you would be, given everything that happened. Maybe if I had been less selfish things would be different." she says barley audible.

"Different how?" I ask, not entirely following.

"I dunno. I ask myself that every day. Every time I try to answer it, it's a little different from the last, brimming with opportunity. Opportunities, I stole from her and maybe a future is stole from you too." the air physically begins to constrict itself, laden heavy with emotion.

"Don't" I console "It was never your responsibility. She was her own person, who made her own choices and decisions, that had their eventual consequences. You can't blame yourself for the path she chose. Sure you could've been there for her, but who’s to say things wouldn't turn out the same way?"

"I hear you. Thanks. You're a pretty wise kid. I guess I never though of it like that." she stares, visibly shocked by my answer, although I sense her mind is more at ease.

"Having no parents from a young age will do that for you." I chuckle, smiling cooling. The air loses it's hold, replacing itself with a more tranquil atmosphere. We sit in silence, not awkward just blissful, till we're shortly interrupted. The heat of two pairs of eyes beats brazenly against the back of my head.

"Sorry to break up this sweet moment but Mama Rosario ain't done with her story." she pouts.

"Sorry about that Miss Rosario." I smile weakly.

"It's okay child, Mama was just about to drop the bomb. She was gonna say all this means is that James is going to become your mate." she states.

"Oh. I see." I say, avoiding their collective gaze. I awkwardly brush a few strands of hair out of my face. I guess this affirms my earlier assumption, now the only issue is how to move forth from here.

"May I speak to James alone?" I ask, trying to make sure I don't come across as rude.

"No problem.” Rachel replies, grabbing Mama Rosario's hand.

She yells back "You got this kid".

"You wanted to speak to me?" James asks. He takes my hands in his and locks our gaze.

"Listen, James. It's not that I don't like you, or don't want to be with you. I uhh... It's just that we only just met. Everything is happening so fast. There are so many things going on. A day ago, I was just this normal kid and suddenly I'm not. It's a little hard to process. I need some time. That's all I ask." I affirm.

"Don't sweat it. I understand." he whispers, planting a kiss on the back of my hand. "Take your time, you don't need to rush. I'm not going anywhere."

"Than..." before I can finish my sentence the room starts to tremble. The metaphysical plane seems to distort, skewing, bending inwards, almost as if it's going to snap.

"What's happening?" Rachel exclaims.

"Something is disturbing the ritual in the actualized word. We need to go back." Mama Rosario adopts a serious look.

"Grab each other’s hands!" she commands.

The purple haze fills the room, glowing blinding bright and once again we stand in the squished living space. An incessant banging echoes down the corridors. Rachel breathes deeply, her face contorts in shock.

"What is it dear?" Mama says as her eyebrows thickly crease.

Rachel takes on a defensive stance and whispers "The Clovers. They're here."

Copyright © 2022 Wolffang; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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