A Gift from the Goddess

Chapter 152

Book Two – Ch.# 43

“Breathe,” Myra said, gesturing with her hands for me to inhale. “Breathe and hold it.”

We’d been at this for a few hours now, Myra doing her best to teach me what she could. She seemed to know a lot about how the ability worked despite not possessing it herself. Though, as she had already previously pointed out, she’d raised a few generations of Knight children. This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Truthfully, I didn’t expect to feel as comfortable around her as I did. We’d only just met but there seemed to be a deeper connection, something that was drawing me to her. A feeling of safety and reassurance in her presence, perhaps.

“…I am,” I muttered.

“Then ask me for this pen,” she said, holding it up in front of me. “Remember to dig deep inside, connect with that spark, and pull it forward.”

I did as she instructed, doing my best to reach for it. But it was difficult, increasingly so. The more we did this, the worse a headache was pulsing in my mind, slowly becoming worse.

I reached… and reached… and reached… and when I thought I could feel the spark, I grabbed a hold of it.

“Myra… could you please give me the pen?” I asked, trying to maintain it.

I watched as her eyes dilated for merely a second, her hand twitching towards me. However, she quickly snapped out of it, clapping her hands to sever the link.

I’d learned this was a method of breaking the influence, the loud noise intending to startle me. Though she had warned me that this may not always work, especially once I become accustomed to the abrupt

distraction.

“I know you can do better than that,” she said, pursing her lips.

And I sighed in exhaustion.

“You’re struggling to connect,” she noted. ” Are you holding yourself back? Don’t be afraid to rely on your wolf if you need to. They can help if you let them.”

And I bit the inside of my cheek, uncomfortable.

“I’d… rather not,” I said.

She tilted her head. “Why? What’s the matter?”

“Well… we just don’t, ah… get along, I suppose,” I admitted.

“But you’re the same person?” she said, as if it should have been obvious. “Your wolf is just an extension of yourself.”

And yet I hated that creature with a passion.

“If you are warring with your wolf, Rheyna, then it just tells me you have a lot of conflict inside. To hate her is to hate yourself. And to put blame on her for something she did is merely a method of scapegoating her for your own mistakes, your own guilt.”

I let her words sink in, unsure how to feel.

…Could that really be true? I guess I had blamed the beast for most of my problems despite my own actions being not much better. Anything it had done, I had technically done as well.

My struggle was born out of fear, out of anxiety that things would go wrong if I allowed it even an inch. It was out of a hatred for losing control… out of feeling a painful longing for things I missed.

“How about trying… an emotional stimulus,” she then said, making me look up confused.

She held a finger to her chin as if she were thinking.

“Aria had trouble with her wolf also. She once told me that she learnt how to use her ability by using emotional energy,” she continued. “This is why stressful situations tend to heighten the effect. Perhaps try thinking of something that conveys a strong emotional response for you… then hold onto it as you go again.”

The only strong emotion I was feeling right now was immense defeat and a keen desire for a relaxing bubble bath… but I doubted that would be good enough for this exercise.

And so I paused to think a little deeper.

I had no shortage of emotionally charged memories. I’d lived through enough pain, fear and heartbreak to last me a lifetime. But they were dangerous to use, requiring me to dredge up feelings I’d purposely buried for my own protection.

Though… I guess there were some more recent events that could work….

“Think… then breathe,” Myra instructed. ” Hold it in your chest and concentrate. Connect.”

Connect. Right. Okay.

Connecting deep inside myself… to the newer emotions surrounding my time here….

Something that simply caused my headache to worsen, but I pushed through it.

“…Can I please have the pen?” I asked.

Only… it came out flat.

“Hold it, Rheyna!” Myra instructed sternly.

And she shoved her hand roughly against my chest, almost forcing the air out of my lungs as a crease formed between her brows. I knew she was just trying to help illicit an emotional response from me.

“You’re not concentrating enough.”

I thought about my time here, about my connection to Myra. How she felt somewhat like a mother figure, something I’d never known. A gap in my life being filled without even realising it had been sorely missing.

“…Please… give me the pen,” I repeated, gritting my teeth.

“No,” she replied, and shoved her hand against me once more, clearly not convinced. “Try harder.”

And so I dug deeper, to the feelings I was suppressing.

To the pain of being abandoned… to the anguish of having to grow up alone….

…To the jealousy over Clarissa, that she had been allowed to grow up with someone who treated her with love and kindness. To the betrayal that Myra had chosen her over her own blood.

“…Give me the pen.”

Tears were starting to sting at my eyes now, but I did my best to hold on to the emotions, hoping that this was enough.

And, finally, Myra seemed to hesitate. Only if slightly.

Her body paused, a confusion coming over her… but it still wasn’t enough.

I needed more… I needed to push past the barrier in my head… to grab a hold of the deepest corners of my mind.

…And I saw flashes of memories as I did so.

Memories that made no sense.

Of blood… of wolves… of a night filled with stars above.

And running.

So much running.

“Give me the pen,” I huffed, unable to stop the tears from flowing now. “Give it to me, Myra.”

Her hand twitched towards me, ever so slowly….

“Give me the pen, Myra!” I yelled.

…And she finally gave me what I’d asked for.

“Of course,” she said, her voice in a dreamy state. “Whatever you want.”

But I’d dug into something inside that went beyond anything I’d intended to, the memories starting to flash with more frequency. Just still images that perplexed me, snippets that I couldn’t piece together.

But… I could feel it. Feel the emotion instilled within it.

And it was unbearable. All stemming from the memory… one where…

“…Don’t leave me,” I cried. “Promise me you won’t stay behind.”

I wasn’t sure who I was talking to anymore but Myra’s expression changed to one of confusion, the influence clearly still working but the context of the request unclear.

“What do you mean?” she then asked.

…And I blinked.

At the sound of her question, I blinked and pulled myself out of the memory, my body now shaking uncontrollably.

Too far. I’d gone too far.

I knew now that there was a barrier there for a reason, things I didn’t want to recall. And as retribution for this carelessness, the excruciating pulse of the headache only became worse.

I took a moment to breathe and then, slowly, I looked back up towards Myra, finding her still quietly watching me in a daze.

It had worked. Maybe too well. An accomplishment in itself given how resistant she was to being influenced.

It was uncomfortable to see her like this, to be completely docile and willing to do anything I asked. In the wrong hands, an ability like this could be used for terrible things.

The kind of uses my father would make quick work of utilising. I knew that adding this to my already fatal skillset would only make the damage I could create far worse.

A cost maybe too great.

…And, as I took one final look at Myra… I proceeded to clap my hands.

“Oh… what?” she said, coming back to reality. “Did it work?”

She looked around the room, getting her bearings before finally focusing on my face.

“Rheyna? What’s wrong? Oh… you’re bleeding,” she said, and began to fuss over me with a tissue, dabbing it against my nose.

I didn’t move as she worked, instead choosing to further calm myself down.

“Don’t try to force it so much,” she scolded. “You’ll learn how to use it eventually. It takes practice. These things aren’t overnight.”

She didn’t seem to have any memory of what had just happened, much to my relief, but it still didn’t make me feel better overall.

It was clear that this had more potential for harm than I ever realised.

“…I don’t think I’ll be training this anymore,” I announced. “I appreciate your help though.”

She looked instantly taken aback, her hand freezing. “What? Why? Rheyna-.”

“Raven,” I said quietly. “I go by Raven these days. It’s… fitting.”

I expected her to ask more about it but, instead, her expression became confused before slowly spreading into a small smile.

“With all the beauty from your Sullivan mother and the Knight eyes of your father,” she said. “I’m almost sad that you don’t take after me at all, but… it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Just like that nickname of yours.”

“Myra…?”

“Your maternal great-great-grandmother sat upon the original Council as well,” she continued. “She hailed from the Hidden

Moon pack, situated in the east. By far one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

And, just like the rest of us, the people forcefully assigned her a nickname upon joining….”

She then stood up and retrieved a book from the bookcase, bringing it over to show me a picture inside. It contained the four faces I recalled from the painting in Ashwood, Myra’s unchanged one included, but also two other individuals that were new.

…One of which looked a lot like… me.

“The Silver Saintess, The Handler…,” Myra said pointing them all out. “The Siren… The Angel of Death.” Myra had sighed before saying her own, clearly unhappy with it. ” And then The Spider, who was Elder Luke Hastings… and The Raven.”

“…The Raven?”

“Iris Sullivan,” she said. “With pitch-black hair as dark as a raven’s wing and all the intelligence to match it. Your great-great- grandmother. She was a vital person in the establishment of the Silver Mist but, after her father passed, she did eventually return home to lead as Alpha there.”

I stared at her picture, the resemblance unquestionable.

“…Did Iris hurt people?” I asked cautiously. ”

A raven is… it’s a symbol of death.”

But Myra simply placed a hand on my shoulder, making me look up.

“A raven is a symbol of change. After all, that is all death is anyway. It is the end of one thing… and the beginning of something new, something better. A rebirth. Iris lived her life completely devoted to seeing the revolution of our kind. The death of the old regime.”

A symbol of… change?

This was my first time hearing this interpretation. I’d always associated it with the worst qualities of myself, using the name as both a justification and a reminder of who I was.

“Don’t fear yourself… and don’t allow people to label you,” she said. “You are exactly whoever you say you are. No one else has the power to tell you otherwise.”

I wanted to reciprocate her smile, but it came out more like a twitch of my lip, my heart not really in it.

“We continue tomorrow,” Myra said, noticing my exhaustion. “Rest for now.”

And I was grateful for the reprieve.

After she left, I continued to stare at the photo of the council, questions continuing to swirl.

Questions like… did my mother also look like Iris then? Were there photos of her and my father somewhere in this ghost town?

And then another thought crept in, one I hadn’t considered yet…

…Did this mean my mother’s family was still alive? Hailing from the Hidden Moon?

…Or were they also destroyed due to their alliance?

It was a lot of information and entirely too much to process for now. Perhaps something for another day.

…And, slowly, I closed the book.

It was very late when I awoke once more.

Just like the night prior, it was completely dark outside, the world feeling still as I laid in the strange bed.

I tossed and turned for some time, agitated, but I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of discomfort. Something that ultimately led me to decide on getting some fresh air to soothe my tension.

…And I headed out the bedroom door once more.

However, unlike the day before, there did seem to be one key difference on this evening.

…It wasn’t so quiet.

“Rheyna… Rheyna…,” someone called out, over and over again.

The voice was coming from down the hall, approximately in the direction I remembered Clarissa’s room to be.

Was she calling for me…?

I approached slowly, following the sound all the way until I found myself outside her door. And it was here that I opened it…. finding her inside.

“Clarissa?” I asked hesitantly. “Was that you yelling my name?”

She heaved herself up and coughed a few times. “Where the hell have you been?” she snapped. “I was waiting for you all of last night.”

“I’m sorry…? Did you ask Myra to see me or something…? I wasn’t told.”

But her eyes simply narrowed at me, her frown deepening. “What? No… we….”

And then something seemed to hit her, a realisation spreading across her face.

“Wait… you really don’t remember me… do you?”

I tried to recall back to my childhood but unfortunately came up blank. I truly didn’t have any idea who she was.

“Ah… no… I’m sorry,” I said. “My memories are a bit faded. I don’t remember much from when I used to live here. Were we friends?”

Though this seemed to be the wrong thing to say, her face somehow looking even paler than before as her eyes turned to the ground.

“So… if she doesn’t…,” she mumbled almost inaudibly, talking to herself. “Then….”

And her gaze then snapped back up to mine, now wide with panic.

“The guard!” she abruptly blurted out, making me flinch. “The guard who stopped you at the Silent Forest’s gate. Was it a man with blonde hair or brown? What method did you use so he’d let you in?”

“W-what? What are you talking about?” I stuttered, taking a step back. “How do you

“FUCKING TELL ME, RHEYNA,” she screamed, an urgency in her voice unlike anything I’d heard before. “DID YOU PERSUADE HIM OR-.”

But her sentence was cut short.

Because in the eerie silence of the destroyed town, a place where not even a mouse dared to squeak… it was then that the sound of inhabitants loudly filled the air.

…The call of wolves howling in the distance. And it didn’t sound so friendly.