The Rites of Malice: Ceremonials (An Aardwulf Tale)

Chapter 1

First, let me clarify three things:

One: there was something absurdly wrong with what just happened, but it was familiar.

Two: I wasn't the vain type, but walking around with congealed blood splattered on my face was definitely not attractive.

Three: The Royal Family? They can go straight to the depths of hell. Because I didn't deserve this, my father didn't deserve this and our family didn't deserve to be treated with such disrespect. Period.

<<FLASHBACK>>

SARAH! I groaned as my father's irritated voice broke through the peaceful sleep I had just been enjoying. I frowned and looked around. The forested clearing that I had decided to take a "nap" in after my run, had lost its lazy afternoon hue in favour of shade of violent blue: a tell-tale sign that it was approaching evening and that I definitely should not be out by myself.

I groaned again.

SARAH! My father's voice rang loudly through our link and I winced. He rarely used that tone with me except when he was beyond furious; which he now obviously was.

I'm coming, I'm coming! I'm not far; I'll be home in a few minutes! I promised then quickly shut of the link before getting up. We had only been here a few months but already I was becoming attached to the forest that surrounded our secluded house.

We never went anywhere near the cities or villages for fear of being found out and my father said it was better this way, there was no modern or royal influence that could harm my sister and I.

There were times when I agreed with him, quite happy to stay away from the humdrum of the human world, but there were many times when I couldn't help but wish I was that carefree.

I sighed and started in the direction of the house. The forest came alive just after dark and apparently I wasn't trusted to be out alone at night; it was annoying but my father argued it was for my own safety, especially with our situation. I picked up my pace, despite knowing how to fight, I was "still a girl" according to my mother as well.

If I ever get my hands on a royal...I grumbled silently in my head.I was as good as human, I'd never shifted or spoken to my wolf; not because I didn't have one or because of other factors; but because I couldn't. I could feel her presence there in the back of my mind, moving and growing with me, maturing as I matured but I would never get to meet her; I was disgraced. Our whole family was disgraced.

My father blamed himself for our current predicament even though we had told him countless times that it wasn't his fault. It was theirs.

But I couldn't help but feel sorry and highly angry for my parents; they'd known their wolves, ran on four paws; spoken and confided in them before their wolves were shut off.

I saw how my dad suffered, often spending hours on end talking to himself; to any outsider he would have been perceived as a lunatic; but I knew he was trying to fill the void he felt at the distance of his wolf; my mother too. It was a worse pain to have known and lost than to have not have known at all.

And in some ways I was grateful I'd never spoken her, it would make the loss all that more painful and I couldn't trust myself in that pain, not to go and slaughter the entire royal family.

If I ever get my hands on a royal...I grumbled silently again in my head, imagining all the lovely "methods" of torture I had created over the years.

Not that I would go through with them, but I might. I didn't know if my burning hatred for that family would overcome my will of self preservation, or dignity for that matter; but I knew if I ever did see one, I'd leave them damaged.