Amber Waves of Angst

Chapter 19

A/N – Hey all, this would have been posted over a week ago but was stuck on my dead computer thanks to Hurricane Sandy. This was by far the most difficult chapter to write, and it took me forever to get it to feel right. The Muse, once my best friend, had to be cajoled back until I could hit her over the head and lock her in my basement. (that's a metaphor, don't call the police). It occurred to me that this upcoming battle seemed to weigh strongly in favor of the wolves; one fallen God and a few mercs versus an army of werewolves and a trio of Avatars? No contest. This chapter addresses that, but doesn't feature any of our favorite characters. I apologize, but it was necessary to the flow of the story. The gang will be back next chapter, which will be up very soon, though I am still reeling from the news about Jackson's character in Season 3. I am devastated, and I have no idea how to process this. Ah well. I made every effort to blend the mythology of this story into that established by J.D., and I think it neatly explains Kanima-dom. Please read...and don't forget that Muses require reviews for sustenance, and mine is already starving in my damp musty basement.

Creighton Gallows walked through the rusted gates of the Beacon Hills cemetery to regard the rows of dead laid out before him. The wolves were poised for victory; they were recruiting amongst their own families, the attacks against the Avatars had failed, and he had only an unreliable mercenary outfit to call his army. Even so, Gallows could have claimed victory easily had he even a fraction of his own former strength.

The bulk of his magic had been gone for centuries, but the bindings he created at the height of his power were still his to control. In ages past, he was strong enough to bind two of the children of the accursed trickster god; only Fenrir was too powerful and had required help. The rope that bound the Wolf was forged in another world by dwarven smiths that were powerful, skilled...and capricious. They were masters of the craft; their inventions were said to trump even the power of the gods...but all too often their gifts were perilous, as was the case with the golden cord. After the Wolf was bound, the smiths appeared to Gallows...they told him the cord was meant to bind a traitor for eternity, but the Wolf was guilty of no betrayal...and so one day he would be free.

Gallows cursed at the memory...he could not find the Wolf's prison any longer (or this war might have ended before it even began) since the ability to step across dimensions the way a mortal uses rocks to cross rivers had long since deserted him.

But Gallows had built other cages (and far more accessible ones) in the dim and misty past... and now he intended to rattle them.

Gallows stopped at a plain tombstone. Unlike almost all of the others, this one showed no evidence of visiting mourners. Not a single flower had ever graced this grave since its occupant was interred so many years ago. Gallows read the name and lost himself in memory...

Kate Argent was the embodiment of the Hunter breed: dedicated, focused and above all ruthless. It was under Gallows' personal orders that the Hale home had been torched so many years ago...his last attempt to prevent the prophecies from coming true. Fool that he was, he failed to remember that often when you tried to prevent the worst from happening, you became the thing that caused it. He had no idea that Kate would use deceit and betrayal as her weapons when she wiped out the Hale Pack. When the sixteen year old Derek told his father about the beautiful woman that had initiated him into the mysteries of sex without Derek's wolf recognizing her as his true mate, he must have known that it was Derek who would become the Harbinger 'forged by blackest betrayal'. What betrayal could be worse than that of a young boy's heart, an innocent love freely given for the first time?

The Triskelion Sigil would have awakened for Derek the moment the fire was set and the house ringed with Mountain Ash. Kate also had armed Hunters poised outside, ready to cut down any who emerged from the inferno. Erick Hale, when faced with the decision to release his doomed family from their chains in a futile attempt at escape or to fulfill the prophecy that would allow him complete and final revenge, made his decision... and inked the Sigil into his son's body before the fire completely consumed the house.