She waved her hand slowly in front of her, and her skin started melting off. Brokk jumped in surprise. For a split second, a white-haired lady sat in front of him, clear brown eyes twinkling back at him. She waved her hand back and her earlier form returned.
“You bring out the young part in me again, dear. It’s quite refreshing.”
“So you’re...”
“A witch, yes, and unfortunately, the last of my line. I am a hundred and twenty years old and have the gift of taking whichever form I choose—whether it be human or not. You see, I had a dear friend once who could relate to me. Her name was Morgan, and she was a shapeshifter. She had a hard time controlling her ability. As you know, it is quite easy to lose yourself a little bit in the beast.”
She sighed. “Anyway, Morgan and I grew up together, living in the same small village of Ferry, which is across the borders from here. The years passed, as they always do, too quickly. Morgan was hearing whispers of a government being built to help anyone with special...gifts.”
She flipped the book open, and Brokk’s gaze fell upon a tattered picture of a woman leaning against a tree trunk, her dark auburn hair falling around her shoulders, her golden eyes shining sullenly.
“She had an opportunity to have a better life, one that would understand her gift, not try to hide it. She left.”
Brokk’s entire body went cold.
“Months passed without a word, and then one day, I was sent this.”
She flipped the creaking pages, and small particles of dust floated up. Brokk leaned in, breathing in the musty scent. Another tattered picture lay in the middle of the page, Morgan laughing with a man with ebony hair and dancing green eyes.
He froze.
“This was the last I heard from your mother. She was swept up in a world that was segregated from the rest of us. Only the best, only the strongest. It’s bullocks really. Look at us now.” Peyton shook her head and, with a dazed expression, looked out the window, lost in thought.
“What are you trying to say, Peyton?” His voice was just above a whisper, and a small tremble vibrated through his body. He was scared for the answer.
“Morgan found love and look how that served her! To love Roque, who was already promised to Nei. She was happy. And you see, I couldn’t have that, oh no. We had a promise, we did. So, I found her, watched her. Until the time was right.”
She wrung her hands together in agitation as she paced back and forth, looking deranged.
“It was a year. I stayed in the woods and watched. You see, I had acquired something, something of upmost importance, which would change everything. Your mother was supposed to have it...not him...not him.” She shook. “It was a snowy evening, and Morgan had caught on that I was there. She met with me. How much people can change in a couple of years, I tell you. She promised me what they were starting was for the good of Kiero, but what she didn’t see was that she was already being blinded by lies.”
A pause, then, “There had been whispers of a prophecy. About two children born from royalty. We had set out to stop this from ever happening. But what I didn’t realize was that I had already failed. When Morgan showed up that night, with a bundle in her arms, which was a small child, I knew, yes, I knew I had to take matters in my own hands.”
A cold sweat dripped down the base of Brokk’s neck, but he was entranced.
“I drove my knife deep into her heart, and as the life drained out of her, it was my mistake I didn’t realize I was being watched. Roque stepped out of the shadows, all pride and arrogance. Hatred fueled his movements, and he charged me and took from me the only thing I care about. He took the book, and he took you and hid you until it was time. No one knew, no one.” Peyton ended with a whisper, sweat dripping off the end of her nose, her form flickering quickly from young too old.
Three thoughts surged to Brokk in that moment.
He was Roque’s son.
Emory’s half-brother.
He was in the most danger he had ever been in his life.
A growl ripped from his throat, and he didn’t think as he changed. The binds that held him to the chair transformed in a second, erupting into slithering snakes made of writhing flames. Their beady eyes were an endless black as they circled his paws, hissing and cackling. Peyton hovered above the ground—her true form in plain sight: yellow papery skin, frizzled white hair flying every which way, eyes filled with hate. Looking down, both snakes coiled and sprung toward his legs in a flurry.
He tried to run, crashing into the chairs and table. If he could just make it to the door... Their teeth sunk deep in his skin simultaneously. A quick icy burning filled his veins, and he dropped to the floor, blood dripping from his human hand as he shifted back. His throat felt thick.
Peyton cackled above him, and Brokk tried to focus, but his world was spinning on its axis.
“You think I would let you slip through my hands again? Oh-ho! I have waited too long for this. Roque hid you for your life, but I needed to see what you would become. Haven’t you ever wanted to know more? Haven’t you wondered why you are so different?”
Yes.
The thought rang through his mind so clearly it reverberated in his heart, in his body. The room tilted upside down, and Brokk felt himself slipping away. He tried to hold on, a low moan escaping from him, and he was taken away with the venom into a world constructed of poison.
***
The steady rhythm of dripping water woke him. The room was dark, strange, and
