The Blood Wolves | Vol.3, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

1.

Makaela never thought she'd miss it.

She never imagined yearning to hear the sinister whispers in her ear. She never imagined she'd miss having the power to end someone's life with the simple swipe of her hand. She never imagined missing the feeling of losing herself in the darkness.

But there she was, sitting at the edge of her bed wishing she could call upon her inner demon's power just one more time.

When she had first learned of her maternal ancestry and her true nature, she loathed it. She hated the idea of being a monster. It made her stomach curdle and her blood run cold.

She didn't want to be the creature parents scared their children with. She didn't want to murder people to survive.

Then she tasted blood for the first time. She couldn't get enough of it. Even when in her normal state, a small, nagging voice in the back of her head begged for it.

The power that blood brought with it came after. Her first taste of that raw power had come after she killed the Shades who murdered Minerva Moreau—the woman who saved her after she tried escaping Thorian's clutches weeks ago.

Blind rage had taken over her, transforming her into something evil. Something strong and powerful.

For the first few days after her first few kills, she felt horrible. But she couldn't ignore how good it made her feel.

Now that feeling was gone. It was locked in a cell and she didn't have the key.

The power her Nightling brought was more addicting than any drug on the planet. She was a junkie for it. Whenever she shifted, the dark vitalae that surged through her veins vitalized her entire being.

But it was gone now, and she couldn't get it back. Not for more than fifteen minutes, anyway.

Ever since she arrived back at Thorian's castle from Thania following the battle, she locked herself away in her room and wept. She would drag her nails along the walls and scream, wishing for her claws to manifest. All it did was leave her fingers bloodied and ruined.

She would grab tufts of her curly, black hair and bit down on her lip, hoping the pain and anguish would bring out the monster.

Sometimes it worked. She would shift and it would be the greatest feeling in the world. But it never lasted long. And each time it happened, the harder it got. She feared she wouldn't be able to shift ever again.

When she laid awake at night, listening to the crows squawk and the gargoyles screech outside, she tried convincing herself that it was a good thing. She was free from the carnal influences and sadistic tendencies of her Nightling. She was herself again.

The other side of her brain argued otherwise. Her Nightling was her. To get rid of it was to erase a piece of her soul, her identity. She didn't know who she was anymore. She couldn't even trust her own thoughts.

Who was she really?

The question reverberated inside her mind as she buried her face between her knees. Warm tears cascaded down her sunken cheeks. They fell from her dark face and onto her bed. Her quiet sobs filled the room, bouncing off the walls like an empty cathedral.

But she had no church to confide in. No priest. No gods. Just a few psychotic magicians who were hellbent on saving the world from itself.

Their message and ideals still resonated with her. And after their battle with House Aegeon a few weeks prior, they were even closer to their final goal.

Thorian had acquired yet another Eldenarian Artifact. After killing Sirus Lombardi during the siege, he assumed ownership over the Gauntlet of the Sea, along with the sword that once belonged to House Brynjir.