ZingTruyen.Xyz

Broken Lines |✔|

1.

world_joy_


There is a barrier in the land that holds creatures of nightmares in place.

Stories of how this barrier came to be, twisted throughout the years. Some have stated that it took over 100 witches who surrounded the whole of the forest to cast their spells and trap us here.

Others concluded there was nothing holding us back. That it was all in the mind.

There were others that stated it came with choices. You could choose what prevented you from stepping over and what didn't.

I was never close enough to the edge of the woods to know. I never had a reason to venture there.

My life was a happy one. Something I was content with and to me, there was no edge of the forest or end of our world. There was no barrier because that was a legend. No one could prove it because there were no firsthand accounts of it actually stopping them.

The forest was wide. It was vast. Who had time to find the end? There was nothing more useless than seeking an out when all you wanted to do was stay.

My father was strangely curious about this legend. There were witches he consulted with, who all told him the same thing - it's not real.

He never could let it go though. My mother was exasperated. My father's pack was amused. Life moved on.

He was a leader. He had no time to waste in sitting around thinking of myths and tracing their origins. Running monsters such as us- that the legends had portrayed as creatures who needed to be contained- was time consuming enough.

And in my foolish youth, my mind was filled with other thoughts.

There is a creature inside us. Something that everyone has. The wolf. The animal that transcends our soul and becomes another part of our body. We mold our mind to fit the shape of a different form. It was a hard process. A difficult one.

You could have the soul given to you, but that did not mean you could always be successful in accepting it.

Only warriors who underwent the hardest of training could shift into such a form of the animal. Many people found the process to be too much. But I could still see it in them. The way of the wolf. How they tilted their heads, or the sight of their eyes when it gleamed in the light of the moon.

I had always thought in passing that it would be nice to be able to go to that form. It would be nice to feel the process and see what such a transformation would be like. But the training made me wince, and the fear of the pain made me hesitate.

After all, I was still only a child. Still only 12 at the time. I did not know better. I did not know that it would soon be the only thought in my head.

My mother was a hard woman. I always had the idea that maybe I was not enough, no matter how many times she assured me and said that she loved me. She would tell me that the transformation and training was all optional. That our people would understand if I did not want to go through with that.

One day, she would say to me, you will meet your Alam, your world, my Vera...and he will take away the burdens from you...he will make sure you are safe and will provide for your father's pack when he is gone.

But not until I was seventeen. Not until I became of age and the soul of the wolf came to me would I be able to see with new eyes and take in the world for what it should be.

I would trace the line that was on my wrist whenever I heard her words. Break any barrier. Let nothing hold you back.

But my father would only laugh. Laugh and shake his head and say to mother that there was time and no need to rush. My world would be waiting, and I still had mother and father to provide for me.

I would hug both of them at these words. I would hug them and feel an overwhelming sense of safety when I thought of the future that could be.

That would have been.

Father is a leader of the pack. Of our people. He is a leader, but also a warrior.

Our pack is strong. We are strong people who have pride. We do not back down easily.

We do not surrender.

But sometimes...that night...I wish we had.

The legends had described us as monsters. I had never seen us in this way. The pictures from the stories had shown horrible images of creatures with fur on human skin and canines extended. Claws were out, ripping into flesh. They showed red on the pages, and the vast amount made me doubt if it was blood or not that was really being depicted.

But that night, I saw the truth behind the legends.

It was another pack. Another leader with his own people.

He came, jarringly with loud noises to let his presence be known.

His people fought our people. My father commanded the battle at the front. I remember mother grabbing me, pushing me into the corner of the room and then running outside. I had never seen mother take on the form of the wolf. She had told me over and over that it was not something I had to do. Not something that I needed to trouble myself with, but I realized then that she had never taken those words to her own heart. She was the wife of the leader and that night fought alongside him.

I did not stay in the house. My body moved on its own as the battle crashed around me.

The end of the end was unfolding before my eyes and the bodies of my people, those I was told I would lead in the future, laid unseeing at my feet.

Others yelled at me to run. The survivors saw me with fear in their gaze as I looked up into the one who had come in the night.

The monster who had made the legends real.

"Who is this?"

"She is no one. She is just a child." That is what my people said. That is what they told him.

"She is not no one," his eyes gleamed in the moonlight. I saw the wolf inside him so clearly. I could not look away from his stare.

He bent his knees, lowering himself to be eye level with me.

His hand reached for me, taking a strand of my golden red hair. The color matched his own hands, the splatters that were there. I shivered. I felt my body react at the sight, and the image of those pages came violently to me of the red that was colored and how unrealistic it had seemed.

But this was real.

"You are someone..." he had whispered that night, looking at the matching colors and taking me in.

"Who is your father?" He knew the answer. They all knew the answer. And it was the sight of my people, begging me to lie and begging me to run and hide that caused me to break and do the opposite.

My last moments seemed to be these few seconds, and I did not want to be seen the way I saw myself now- how I looked when I was reflected in their eyes.

"I am the daughter of the leader. These are my people. You are on my land."

He had not laughed at my words. A fierce look had come over instead. He met my challenge, his eyes narrowing and the tension rising between us.

Onlookers observed and felt fear at the child who stood in defiance of him.

But I don't think he ever saw me as that.

I think, in that moment when I look back, he really and truly had believed my words.

"I killed your father. I killed your mother. I am the leader. And this is my land."

He waited for me to respond, but the only emotion I could hold was shock and anger.

And it might have been that look. That look of hatred that I gave him, that spared my life that day.

Because he leaned down further, his breath hitting my face and his savage grin lighting up the eyes of a monster, "use that hate you feel for me now, and turn it into power. It's what I did- and look at where I am today. You want to kill me? Do it. Do it, little one. I'll be waiting for that day."

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