To the White Wolf | Fenrys (ToG)

Part 1: Connall's Fear

POV of Kya and Fenrys' son, Connall, age 17.

I duck behind a fountain, keeping low to the ground as I hear the crunch of dead leaves being stepped on. He's coming. The footsteps come to a stop as he tries to figure out where I am.

With a sweep of my hand, I send a breeze strong enough to knock over a statue. I don't care that my mother would be mad that I destroyed one of the statues she hand selected in her rebuilding of Adarlan's gardens. I take the sound of it crashing to the ground as a chance to run for my life in the opposite direction of the one coming for me.

I'm fast and quiet as I bolt through the maze of rose bushes, I slide as I round the corner. I didn't even realize Chaol Westfall was there until I'm slamming into him hard enough to knock both of us to the ground. I don't have time to stay and apologize, I stand and grab Chaol's hand to heave him up.

As I try to let go and run away, Chaol grips my hand tight enough that it hurts. I look down at our joint hands, I hear the sound of someone running for me, but that is when I realize that Chaol is not Chaol.

I release electricity into my hand the same time ice not of my making travels up my wrist. I try to rip my hand from his grasp, but Chaol's eyes turn from brown to sapphire and then he completely transforms into my Uncle Dorian.

"I win," he smiles.

I turn around and see that it wasn't Dorian chasing me, it was a guard wearing my uncle's jacket. "You cheated," I pulled my hand out of his grip and let fire wrap around it like a bracelet to melt the ice. I grew up spending equal time with a queen of fire and a king of ice, but for some reason my favorite element to wield has always been fire. I felt powerful in the chaos of it.

Uncle Dorian slung his arm around me and began to lead us back to the palace, "I'm tactful. You know the rules, any use of magic is fair game."

"Did you catch Wylla?" Wylla was a better hider than me, I liked to be chased but she was small and sneaky for a six year old. And to make things harder for our uncle, she was smart.

"I have no clue where your sister is. I tried looking for her but I think she winnowed out of the garden."

I cupped my hands over my mouth and yelled, "Wylla! I lost!"

The garden remained quiet. The only sound was our breathing, the rustling of the plants blowing in the breeze, and the fountain.

"Wylla!" Dorian yelled after a long moment of her not coming out. He took a deep breath and I saw real fear in his eyes. My mom would murder him if he lost my little sister, she would probably murder me too if dad didn't beat her to it. Wylla was the apple of their eyes. She is the calmest child I have ever witnessed and can pick up things after only seeing it once. At six, she's already better at winnowing than me. One day I fear she might figure out how to winnow out of this world.

If anyone can do it, it would be Wylla.

Dorian turned to the guard tailing us and ordered him to have a low profile search of Wylla, he didn't want my parents to know he couldn't find her yet.

The first hour of searching for her and calling her name, I didn't panic. I figured she got bored and fell asleep.

The second hour, after tearing apart the garden and the castle, I began to worry.

By the fifth hour, I was losing my shit. We had double checked the whole grounds of the palace, gone to the torre, searched as much of the city as we could. My uncle had every guard he could spare for searching.

At seven at night, I was standing in the guard tower when I saw my mother begin to approach. She had been in the Torre all day with patients. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun but strands of hair fell into her face. I knew she was tired, probably thinking about the exact moment she would get to take her shoes off, eat, and then pass out.

"I don't want to tell her," the confession slipped out of my mouth. I felt like crying, I lost my little sister. She could be taken. She could be dead. Sold. I couldn't even imagine how my mother would react when she found out that we had been searching for Wylla for eight hours. I might pass out, I dropped to the ground and gripped the roots of my hair while I tried to get my emotions under control.

I felt my uncle's hand on my shoulder, "She'll be okay. We'll find her." It wasn't long until I heard the wings of an owl after my Uncle called out my mother's name.

She immediately turned back into her half fae form when she saw me. "Connall," there was worry in her voice. Worry for me. It was hard to look her in the eyes, the minute I did, the panic overwhelmed me and I threw myself into her arms, selfishly taking in her security. "What's wrong, little pup?"

"Wylla-" I tried to say, but then it felt hard to breathe. Something in my gut was telling me that she wasn't okay. That she wasn't here anymore. There was absolutely no trace of her presence.

I was slightly relieved when Dorian stooped down to our level. My mother started shaking in my arms as he told her, "we've spent the past eight hours looking for her. Not even my guards have been able to locate her. We've searched the palace, grounds, Torre, well into the city. My guards are still looking. We'll find her."

She pulled away from me, looking at Dorian like she didn't believe him. Her lips parted and tears glistened in her eyes.

Each day that passed was torture. My father had finally arrived to join us from Terrasen but my mother spent every moment searching for Wylla. She hadn't stopped to sleep or eat and I worried for her. I begged her to take a break but she wouldn't even change out of her owl form.

When my father arrived three days into Wylla missing I knew he knew something was wrong when my mother and sister weren't anywhere to be seen as he arrived at the palace. I stared at the floor like a coward as I told him about Wylla missing.

I had only ever seen my father mad once. I'm not proud of it, but I wasn't the greatest child to them, but it only took my father getting mad at me once to change my attitude. I was twelve and I told my mother that I wanted to be king of Adarlan. My uncle had no children and she was the oldest, so the throne belonged to me. I got so angry at her for not wanting to claim the throne, I called her selfish, I threw a magical fit that resulted in me destroying my bedroom in Terrasen and knocking my mother unconscious.

My whole life I compared my father to other males. I thought he was overshadowed by King Rowan, King Dorian, Lorcan, and even Aedion who wasn't even full fae. But that day, I stopped doubting his strength as he tore through my storm of electricity, fire, darkness, and shards of broken glass. He picked me up like I weighed nothing, anger was evident on his face as my fire reflected in his dark eyes and he bared his teeth at me. Is dad going to kill me for hurting mom? I thought, truly being afraid of him.

I felt his strength and knew he could snap me like a twig. My father looked at my unconscious mother on the ground and my ears rang as he screamed, "How dare you hurt your mother."

After that, I felt horrible about what I did to my mom. I respected my father more too, releazing that just because he didn't flaunt his strength didn't mean he wasn't strong.

Now, I flinched as he took a step towards me after I explained what happened, fully expecting his wrath for losing my little sister and causing mom so much stress. But then my father remained the male I always saw him as, he pulled me into a hug. I let out a long breath and felt the tension of my muscles relax. These past days had been hell and I had feared my father's reaction.

His voice was sad as he pulled away, "I'm going to go look for them." His eyes met mine and he gave me a small smile as he placed a hand on top of my head and ruffled my curls, "go get some sleep, little pup. I can tell you haven't been sleeping."

Each day that passed, I lost hope.

My parents didn't give up searching and each time I saw them out of their animal forms they looked as though there was no joy in the world.

Word came from Terrasen, she wasn't there either.

Three weeks passed and there was no hope of Wylla being found. It was as though she had evaporated into thin air.