63. Storm

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-Jaden-

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-Jaden-


I leaned against the sill of an open window, the cold air brushing past me into the silent hallway I was in. I could see my father outside, standing on the top of the stairs that led to the Hall. He was looking down, his hands in his pockets. My mother, Ezra, and Ryder were standing on the stairs, looking at the silent crowd below them. It was weird to see so many people in our small main road now that there were two other packs with us.

The sun was barely rising behind the snow-covered trees, and the only sound I could hear was the whispers of the wind. My father looked so old when he finally lifted his gaze to look over his people and our guests. His thick, brown hair moved slowly in the wind and even from a distance I could see anger burning in his eyes.

"We were attacked last night," he then spoke, and the crowd let out a gasp. "Their target was Joseph Archer – our only Diviner. He survived, but only barely. We can only assume that the enemy is now ready to attack, and they wanted to get rid of the only person who can foresee it."

"Who was it, and how did they get into our land? We were supposed to be safe here!"

"We are safe against shadows, thanks to our Spirit Walker friends," my father nodded towards Natalie, her husband, and their friends that were standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Their wards and shields are working normally, but the enemy tricked us, sending an innocent boy to do their dirty work. He is safe now, but he is greatly injured and may not survive."

"Why are they attacking here?" someone yelled.

"For the same reason they attacked us seventeen years ago," Dad answered. "They think there is something valuable in the catacombs, and now they are trying their luck again. Their leader is Anthony Attwood – the very same person who led the attack against us last time. He hasn't forgotten about us."

I frowned at his words. My father was lying. We knew exactly what Anthony wanted, but then again, it was better that no one else knew about the portal, especially those two other packs which we didn't know well enough to trust.

I tuned out when I felt a familiar heartbeat coming my way, and I turned to see Oliver stepping into the hallway, pulling a thick blanket over his shoulders.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked when he stopped next to me, peering out the window where my father was going through his plans.

"I needed some fresh air," I muttered.

He took my hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Your spirit has changed," he said quietly. "It's still changing..."

"Is it bad?" I asked with a frown.

"No," he shook his head. "It's growing – it's starting to resemble your father's spirit," he smiled gently.

"Oh..." I muttered. I didn't feel any difference in me.

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