Chapter 190

Olivia

The radiant sun had passed its zenith, and the shade beneath the age-old trees had begun to stretch. We stood, Nathan and I, in the clearing where tradition had taken root over countless generations. We waited.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours. Every rustle of the trees, every distant bird’s cry, heightened my anxiety. The babies, oblivious to the tension, squirmed softly in their robes.

Nathan held my hand, his grip reassuring but equally expectant. This was his world, his tradition. And yet, as the time ticked by, I could see the confusion seep into his amber eyes.

“Where is it?” I whispered, glancing around. “Is this normal, Nathan?”

He shook his head slowly, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of the Ancient Wolf being this late.”

I tightened my grip on Aurora and Elliot, their soft coos a poignant contrast to the thickening silence of the clearing. Elder Mingan’s face was unreadable, but I noticed the exchanged glances between the Elders, and their subtle gestures spoke volumes.

As the time dragged on and the wolf remained absent, the Elders convened, their voices hushed and urgent. After what felt like an eternity, Elder Mingan approached us, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“It is possible that the Ancient Wolf,” she began, her voice shaking, “has passed on.”

The weight of those words hung in the air. The Ancient Wolf, the guardian of tradition, a timeless entity… gone?

Nathan’s grip slackened, shock evident in his features. “That’s... that’s not possible.”

A murmur of agreement spread among the gathered pack members. The legend of the wolf, practically immortal in their tales, had been a cornerstone of their beliefs.

“I will check,” Elder Mingan said, her voice full of stony conviction. “Follow me if you’d like. I won’t stop you.”

Nathan and I exchanged uneasy glances. The weight of Elder Mingan’s words was still sinking in, the possibility that the wolf was truly gone almost incomprehensible. Before we could process or discuss any further, the Elders made their way towards a less-trodden path that led to the cave of the Ancient Wolf.

With the twins cradled in our arms, we decided to follow, needing to see for ourselves and understand the implications of what was unfolding.

The path was strewn with fallen leaves, and the usual sounds of the forest seemed muted as if nature itself were holding its breath in the face of this unprecedented event.

The entrance to the cave was a large archway of stone, carved over centuries by nature’s hand. As we approached, the temperature seemed to drop, a chill emanating from the depths of the cave. Elder Mingan was already at the entrance, her posture stooped but determined as she hobbled in.

As she disappeared into the darkness, curiosity drove me closer. Peering inside, the only light was a dim glow, barely illuminating a massive shape further within the cave. My breath caught.

There, large and unmoving, lay the majestic form of the Ancient Wolf. It was too dark to make out much, but I could see its grizzled fur and its huge, hulking shape, curled up into a ball in the shadows.

A sudden jolt surged within me, causing me to gasp. My wolf, returning to her dormancy immediately after the birth of Aurora and Elliot, was now stirring, reacting vehemently to what it perceived within the cave.

It was as if it sensed the loss and the vacuum left behind by the Ancient Wolf. My head throbbed painfully, and I had to grip the cave’s entrance to steady myself.

“Olivia?” Nathan’s hushed, but concerned, voice reached my ears. “Are you okay?”

I attempted to straighten up, pushing the pain and the overpowering presence of my wolf to the back of my mind.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, though my voice was anything but convincing. Nathan’s gaze was searching, but he didn’t press further.

The minutes we waited felt like an eternity, the weight of the situation pressing down on us all. And then, Elder Mingan re-emerged. The lines on her face seemed deeper, her eyes holding an age-old sadness.

“It’s true,” she said, her voice tremulous. “The Ancient Wolf has indeed passed on.”

The words were like a physical blow to the gathered pack members. Whispers spread, and the shared grief was palpable. The Ancient Wolf, in all its legendary glory, had been more than a guardian or a symbol. It was a beacon, a part of the very soul of the pack.

Nathan’s grip on my hand tightened, and I could feel his own turmoil. The implications of this event, for the pack and for our own little family, were still unknown.

The Elders gathered in a circle, their murmured conversations punctuated with heavy sighs and gestures towards the cave. Their discussions remained private, but the weight of their decisions would no doubt impact us all.

Mingan continued, her gaze shifting to the twins. “Its passing on this day, at this moment, cannot be mere coincidence. These children... they might bring misfortune to our pack. Perhaps you should leave.”

My heart raced. My children, branded as omens of bad luck? I could feel the eyes of the Elders and some pack members weighing heavily on Elliot and Aurora.

With a protective instinct, I drew my babies close.

“How dare you!” My voice trembled with indignation. “Your ancient traditions and beliefs cannot dictate the fate of my children. That wolf was ancient. Isn’t it possible it was just its time?”

Mingan’s lips thinned, her expression hardening. “Our ways have persisted for centuries, young one. You may be new to these traditions, but they are the bedrock of our identity.”

“I will not let you blame my children for something so natural,” I retorted. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The air was thick with tension. Murmurs spread like wildfire, with whispered concerns about the twins' future and their place in the pack.

“Enough,” one of the senior Elders boomed. His glare settled on us. “Return home. Let the Elders deliberate on this matter.”

Feeling the weight of countless eyes upon us, Nathan and I turned, walking through the forest path with our children cradled in our arms.

The walk home was fraught with emotion. The wind seemed colder, and every rustle felt like a whisper of judgment.

“I can’t believe them!” I ranted, my voice echoing with frustration. “These age-old beliefs, these unfounded traditions—how can they even think of blaming our children?”

Nathan remained silent for a long stretch, absorbing my tirade. I took his silence as agreement until he finally spoke up, his tone gentle but firm.

“Liv, I understand your feelings, but there’s some truth to the traditions. The ancient wolf was centuries old, virtually immortal in our lore. Its passing at this exact moment is... significant.”

My steps faltered. “Are you saying you believe them? That our children are to blame?”

His expression was pained. “I’m saying it’s more complicated than we thought. I love Elliot and Aurora, but we cannot dismiss the weight of this tradition.”

Tears filled my eyes, a mix of anger, fear, and betrayal. “So you’d side with them, against our own children?”

He hesitated. “I’m just trying to understand, Liv. For the sake of our family and our place in the pack.”

His words stung. “I thought you’d stand by us, Nathan. Regardless of these... superstitions.”

Nathan reached out, attempting to bridge the gap that had widened between us, but I pulled away, my heart heavy. “Let’s just go home,” I whispered.

The rest of the journey was a blur of raw emotion and a silence filled with unsaid words. The home that had been our sanctuary now felt cold and unfamiliar.

The weight of tradition and belief had cast a shadow on our newfound happiness, and our future as a family within the pack seemed uncertain.