Chapter 2: Back Home
Chapter 2: Back Home
Loiza POV
After five years of relentless training in Avalon, where dawn meant drills and dusk brought lessons, returning to Karaya felt like breathing again. Here, the salty breeze carried the scent of freedom, and the rhythm of the island matched the beat of my heart—a werewolf back with her pack, finally home. I remembered the sounds, the scents, and the deep harmony of it all. It was different from the kind of peace Avalon offered; this was the comfort of being surrounded by family, of belonging. It made me feel complete in ways I hadn't realized I'd been missing.
Home. My family. I had spent so long worshiping the Goddess, studying and training, that I had almost forgotten the simple joys of life—going to school, learning to cook or at least help prep, attending festivals, even something as small as listening to the laughter of friends under the stars. I missed the faces of my parents, my siblings, and all the moments I had lost. At times, I could hardly remember what they looked like. But now, being back with them, I could feel the bond returning, stronger than ever.
It took me a while, but with my brother Urayoán’s help, I was able to reconnect with the pack’s Link. I had to be careful with what I shared, but with the training I’d received in espionage from my Tía Ayiti, my father’s sister, I was more cautious—and more capable—than I had been as a child. My mother, an Alpha herself and sister to our own, had taught me patience, stealth, and the value of strategy. My father, on the other hand, fed my mind with books, making me think critically, often challenging the knowledge I read with my own notes.
Since my return, I’ve continued my duties as a Priestess under High Priestess Yaya, working toward the High Priestess title myself. But I’ve also thrown myself into combat training with General Braka, and his partner Cleo, my sparring buddy. Avalon taught us the basics, but my father insisted I learn The Osupa way—the way of the wolves. And so I did, refining my skills, learning techniques only we knew.
I also wanted to learn as many languages as I could. The world was vast, and I wasn’t content staying on my island. Maybe, just maybe, I would find my mate during my travels. A part of me longed to meet someone who could make me feel the way my brother had with his mate.
I traveled far and wide—Berlin, Paris, Buenos Aires, Johannesburg—always on a mission. My brother was always by my side, my trusted partner. Together, we gathered intelligence, studying people, cultures, and governments. Our goal was simple: to blend in, remain undetected, and gather as much intel as possible.
I knew about the existence of other supernatural beings, of course, but my mission was clear—build alliances. I sought out werewolf packs and tried to broker truces with the goodwill of being a Priestess of the Goddess. Easier said than done.
Many packs, especially after the last great Werewolf War, saw our methods—our use of technology and espionage—as cowardly. They were offended by how we carried out our affairs, thinking our ways too subtle, too far from their brutal traditions. But technology, our tech, was ours, and we did not share it. We never would.
The Werewolf High Council had their eye on us for years, coveting our resources, and yet, we lived under the jurisdiction of Avalon alone. If we were ever caught spying on them, it could mean war. And we, the Osupa, had always avoided that. Our strength was in our secrecy, our ability to remain hidden from both human and supernatural eyes.
I spent years doing the work of diplomacy, meeting with werewolf packs, sharing wisdom and forging ties. But most packs preferred to work alone, too proud or too set in their ways to accept our help. They were suspicious of us. And the longer I stayed in this new role, the more disillusioned I became.
The last seven months had been spent at home, serving as the Guardian of The Cardinal South Temple, performing rituals and comforting those who sought the Blessings of the Goddess. It was a far cry from the life I had been living, but I embraced it. I enjoyed the simple pleasures of family life—surfing with my siblings, running through the mountains in my wolf form, and helping my father restore his old car. These small moments reminded me of everything I had missed.
On some nights, we gathered with our neighbors or went to the Alpha’s Fort to enjoy a bonfire. We would tell stories of old battles, of heroes fallen and of mates rejected, their pain a reminder of the dangers of defying the Goddess’s will. The rhythm of drums filled the air, and sometimes someone would stand up and dance, their movements shifting the beat, bringing the entire circle into the flow.
It was peaceful, and I relished it, even as my heart ached with longing. I thought I would find my mate by the time I turned 18. But four years have passed, and still no one had appeared. Only my brother Bayoán had found his mate—and it had taken longer. I didn’t want to wait that long. I couldn’t, something was pushing urgency for this encounter. So, I decided to travel again. I planned to visit Polynesia, meet more islanders, and perhaps, if the fates allowed, find my mate there.
I was preparing for another mission when everything changed.
