© 2017 SilverStream22. All Rights Reserved.

~

  As a child you would wait
And watch from far away.
But you always knew that you'd be the one
That work while they all play.  

  ~  

Watching Mom with careful eyes, I was able to deduct that she was just as nervous as I was about today. Faye was with her, plucking petunias from the flower mazes that Mom grew in the courtyard. She was arranging them in a cluster to be placed within the vases on the white tables scattered across our chartreuse lawn.

I could see that her hands were shaking a little. It made my knee jerk anxiously.

"Lux, are you alright?"

I snapped my head back to look at my oldest uncle, Varian. The uncanny resemblance he had to to portraits of my grandfather never failed to astonish me.

"I'm good. This whole ceremony is throwing me off. Did Mom have to go through this?"

He sat down on the porch with me, unbuttoning his suit jacket. "Not exactly. It wasn't nearly as lavish as yours was. This...extravagance is all Mother's doing. She wants to spoil you in a way that she could never do with Katya."

I tucked a stray curl behind my ear, focusing back on Mom. Although everyone says I'm a carbon copy of my father, Stark insists that my soul is entirely Katya. And living up to Mom's name? It's hard. How am I supposed to reach the level of saving the werewolf and vampire communities from an all out war between two gods, much less surpass it?

"You look nice. Mother got that dress for you, I'm assuming?" Varian jerked his chin to the floral champagne dress I wore.

I shook my head. "I went out with Damen and Nikolai yesterday. Babushka gave me money for a dress. Nikolai picked out several dresses and Damen randomly choose one for me to wear."

The twinkle in Varian's eyes told me that this was probably all part of my grandmother's plan. "Come. Let's go meet the prospects."

I stood up, glancing around for my father, noticing Mom was missing as well. "Where's Stark? Is he not coming with us?"

Varian grimaced. "He's...feeding. You know how it is."

I only found out recently- that Stark was half vampire and half Lycan. He only took blood from Mom, but since she's been feeling ill due to some of her powers getting ready to transfer to me, Stark had decided to go "vegetarian" as Castor calls it.

Mom didn't believe in going vegetarian. She was worried that Stark might get sick- which he did in the first couple of days. But until her powers were transferred to me, Stark insisted upon drinking from animals instead of Mom.

Varian led the way to the front of the house as the last of the preparations were done by Faye and her two Lycan mates, Jasper and Draver.

It was almost midnight, the moon was high and clear. I got to see the three werewolves whom were about to become Lycans. I went over the lines in my head, doing my best to recall what my grandmother had taught me about the ceremony. It would be my first time turning someone into a Lycan, a custom that was accompanied with my birthday. The moment midnight struck, I would turn of age- have my mother's powers along with the matrilineality power of turning a werewolf into a Lycan.

I greeted the werewolves. Two girls, and one guy. I had ingrained their names into my head so I wouldn't forget. Trinity, Maya, and Ulysseus.

Maya was young girl, maybe 8, and she seemed to be cautious of me and everyone around her. The only person she looked to be warming up to was Varian.

She held his hand, watching him with careful eyes. "You are old."

I felt Varian stiffen before putting on an equally cautious smile to match Maya. "Yes. And you are young."

"Alright, let's get this started, shall we?"

I jerked at the sound of my grandmother. Turning to see her, I found myself still wondering why she thought she looked haggardly. Royals don't age past 22- all but the Royal mothers. Once their powers are passed to the next generation, age begins to show (though extremely gradually). To me, she still looks gorgeous with just a few lines. The only thing old about my grandmother is her wrinkled heart.

"Babushka shouldn't we wait for Stark and Mom?"

I saw her hand flying and couldn't do anything to stop it- with a sharp karate chop she slammed her hand onto my head. I winced and ducked down, grabbing the bruised area.

"Don't. Call. Me. Babushka. I am not that old."

Varian grimaced, mumbling under his breath: "I don't know, Mother, those wrinkles tell another story."

My uncle received a swift chop on his head as well.

"Now come. Stark and Katya will be return soon."

Following my grandmother out to the open courtyard with the three werewolves in tow, I felt my palms get clammy. I took deep breaths, hoping that my nervousness would fade over time.

https://youtu.be/a0ul-BghOAs

Mom was out in the courtyard, standing on the ceremonial steps with words engraved with Latin and Greek. She smiled down at me, but I could see the worry in her eyes. Her powers would be transferred to me- and I knew it wasn't lack of power that made her upset but rather her inability to protect me and shield me from the world. Stark was more than happy to take on the burden of keeping Mom safe and coddling her; it was something he felt that he could never do once Mom had gotten her powers. Stark confessed to me that since Mom became fully Royal, paranoia had struck her into wanting to protect everyone around her, especially her family.

I knew of that paranoia to some extent. Stark never kept anything from me once I reached high school; he spilled everything about their past and the prophecy that brought about the war between the Ancients and Lycans. He told me that Mom still had nightmares in which she'd wake up screaming, her hands shaking- she would run to the bathroom and furiously scrub at her hands to remove the imaginary blood of the Ryland, Rosemarie, and Ryker, the pups of the pack whose death she felt responsible for.

But sometimes, when I witnessed her having a breakdown, Mom would look right at me- almost through my soul. And then she'd cry even harder before falling into a silence and apologizing profusely for what I would have to go through in the future. It shook me to my core, but I never really expressed my thoughts on her breakdown; how I felt that she was eerily right.

I'd always felt off, ever since I was young. Stark could tell right off the bat that there was something different about me that neither he nor Mom couldn't quite place. The one person who did understand me was Kendra, the prophesying Nymph who was once a close friend of my parents before they distanced themselves from her. I'd met Kendra only a few times, and if I was with her, Stark made sure that I wasn't alone.

Faye, Jasper and Draver's mate, told me that my parents were just scared of what could happen to me- that I might catch something that would ruin my future if I hung around Kendra. Stark was crazy paranoid when it came to me being in danger, and since Stark and Faye both have prophesies, it was obvious that they assumed that I would get some death-filled prophecy as well.

Hopefully this ceremony would open them up to me more, and I'd be able to prove them wrong. That I'm normal, and that I'll be safe.

Taking Mom's hands, she helped me climb up onto the ceremonial steps. My eyes flickered to her neck, where there were two tiny holes near her jugular. I glanced at Stark, who was standing by the entrance of the maze, his eyes locked onto Mom.

"Ready, sunshine?" Mom whispered.

I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure on this ceremony. Something felt off; not just with me, but with the whole situation.

The three werewolves knelt on one knee to receive their Lycan status. The weight of what I was about to do was nearly crushing me.

Mom whispered low, the words a blur of Greek and Latin, before she sliced her palm with her shifted claw. I offered my hand for her to cut, and when we were both bleeding, Mom joined our hands together.

The surge of power rushed through me like a raging current. I had to take a jerky step back to regain my balance. My blood, my veins, my nerves, all of it was on fire.

That's when I knew something was wrong- when Mom spoke about having the gifting power, she said it was like a cool ocean breeze that wrapped and filled you with a sense of tranquility. All I felt was a burning furnace in my soil that begged for vengeance- for what, I didn't know.

And that scared me the most.

Babushka had her eyes on me, and I knew that if I stopped the ceremony now, I would let her down. So instead, I turned to face the three werewolves and began the process.

I squeezed my hand into a fist, so that my nails were digging into the fresh cut. Blood leaked from my closed fist, the first few drops wasted on the floor, before I was able to capture them with my other hand and begin painting the crescent moon on their foreheads. Each of them flinched back, and I couldn't blame them. My blood was warmer than normal, almost scalding.

A bead of sweat formed on my brow, and I prayed to the Goddess that I didn't look as nervous as I felt in that moment.

"Warriors to serve Artemis, as you shall be now and forever. You have endured suffering in which the Moon Goddess sees you fit to receive her gifts. Continue the hunt, both in present time and in eternity."

With a shaky breath, I relaxed and prepared myself. I glanced at the moon, hoping the Goddess was watching over me. I couldn't fuck this up. Not just for me, but for my family, and for the three werewolves in front of me. 

Trinity was first. She stood up, sliced her palm in a similar fashion, and we intertwined our hands. The power swirled inside me, blooming forth within my depths. I urged it to come forward, but instead it sank deeper. 

I pressed harder, forcing it to surface. Trinity jerked back, a scream ripping from her throat. I let go, stumbling back from the force. Her hand and mine were both scorched. 

I didn't realize I was crying until Stark pulled me to him, holding me as Varian examined the wounded flesh.

"What went wrong?" Mom cried out, cupping my face. "Are you okay?"

I nodded hesitantly, glancing at Trinity. Damen was addressing her hand. "Is she alright?"

Damen brow furrowed and he glanced in my direction. "She'll be okay after we get some nectar on her hand. Whatever happened between you- that wasn't normal."

"Clearly," Stark snarled, pressing me tighter. 

I struggled until I freed myself from him. "I'm okay, I just- I just need a moment."

Varian shook his head, rotating my wrist left and right to get a better look at the damage. "This is something I've never seen before. Your hand- it appears almost seared. Your hands still have a translucency to them, almost like the glow of magma. I can see your bones."

True enough, when I looked down at my hand I was able to see my phalanges and part of my meta carpals.

"What about Trinity?" I shouldered past my parents to the werewolf teen.

Instead of showing me her hand, she shrieked and stepped farther away from me, tucked behind Damen, almost as if I was coming to hurt her.

Damen grimaced, "Maybe not now, Lux. She's a bit wary."

Oh Goddess, I've ruined everything. I should've listened to my instincts.

The horrified stares burned holes into my back. My chest compressed further as the threat of tears arose. Glancing up, I caught the disproving gaze of babushka.

And that's when I ran.

___________________________________________________________

Babushka = Grandmother 

  BTW if you've noticed, I put a section of lyrics right before the chapter. It pertains to the story. All the lyrics aren't strictly about Lux- they vary for each character. Try to figure out which character each lyrics are for and comment on it!!! I'm curious to see what everyone thinks :3