"Back so soon?" Sebastian grinned, gently placing down a mug he was wiping clean. His fingers were long and slender, similar to Isaacs fingers only his nails were longer, comparable to a writer's fingers. "Our coffees must be pretty memorable."

I handed him a five-dollar note. "Who said I came for the coffee?"
His eyes lit up mischievously. "You came for me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not, I came for your co-worker over there. She gave me a friendly smile yesterday that I couldn't forget."
Sebastian faked being crestfallen, frowning at me but taking the money with a spark in his eyes. "That's what they all say."

I rose an eyebrow. "So there's many of us?"
"Us meaning pretty little girls who buy coffee every morning, yes, but none of them were of much interest."
I laughed. "Interest in you or interest in them?"
He shrugged, his dimples flashing. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to brush his hair this morning. I could tell by how wild it looks, tangling into curls that were almost the same as Isaacs.

Stop comparing him to Isaac, I growled to myself.

"I never got around to asking you yesterday," he picked up a coffee cup and began to work. "What brings you to Idin?"

I walked to a stool leaning up against the counter, still in hearing range from him despite the loud noise of the coffee machine. "I have an obsession with pigeons, there aren't any in Brookefield."

He let out a light cackle, the girl next to him flashing me a smile that hinted she had heard my comment. "Pigeons and coffee? I'm sure you fit into one of the many stereotypes we see around here." He tapped off the ground coffee excess and pressed the circular item into the machine with well-practised efficiency. He moved a curl away from his neck, the movement allowing me to see a thin, white scar etch down his neck to disappear beneath his T-shirt. I swallowed and looked at my feet. That was something we had in common.

"Pigeon girl, your coffees ready." I glanced up to see him outstretch his hand to me, veins lining his arm to twist up under his sleeve. I reached to retrieve it from him but he brought it closer to him, just out of fingertips reach.

He smiled cheekily. "Pigeons aren't that interesting, in fact, they're only funny to watch when they run into glass windows."

I stared at him, taking in his lightened brown eyes and growing dimples.

"So unless you want me to claim this flat white as my own, I suggest you tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours." He flashed me a knowing look, his smile broadening. "And the answer is not any two legged, winged specimens."
I forced down an eye roll, clampering back on my seat. This boy was persistent. I glanced at my coffee in his hands longingly and he waved it around, before slowly bringing it to his lips.

"I swear to god if you drink from my coffee I'll file a complaint." I hissed, but he responded with a hearty laugh, spilling the liquid in the process. He looked down at the droplets that I was sure had stained his apron and then back at me.

"Oops," he cooed, "silly me, I must be more careful sometimes."

The glare that I shot him back apparently was enough for him to place my coffee back on the bench, however the smile was still plastered across his face.

I rose from my seat and walked back up to the counter, his eyes following my movements. "I came to the city so I could hire out books."
His face slackened in surprise. "Books?"

I nodded in response.

He continued to stare at me dumbfounded. "Must be pretty important books."

I shrugged, the typical shrug that he had given me. "Not really, but I have nothing better to do."

I reached for my coffee but he slid it to the other end of the counter, spilling more of its contents. I spun back to see him beaming at me.

"I'm going to hit you." I snarled but the menace seeped away from my threat because he had started laughing again and his laugh was one of those laughs that were contagious and soon a smile was pulling at my lips.

Finally, after regaining his breath, he nodded towards my coffee, which I predicted was only half full now. "One more question and I promise I'll give you your coffee."

I huffed. "Fire away."
Freckles ridged his nose, speckling like dust around his cheeks and lips to hide under his jawline. He had a soft, heart shaped face with full eyebrows that brought out the amber in his eyes.

"What are the books about?" He seemed genuinely curious, but then again, he was curious about anything.

I gave him a light smile. "Pigeo—"

"Knew you would say that." In one swift movement he picked up my coffee and chucked it into the bin beside him. I stared at it, shocked. When I rose my gaze back to him he had taken a step away from the counter, his hands up by his chest in surrender.

It took every ounce in me not to lean over the counter and throttle him. But then he reached to a shelf hidden from my view and pulled out another coffee cup, the lid covered in tiny small designs written in pen. My name stood out against the side.

Sebastian's cheeks reddened ever so slightly, his cheeky attitude disappearing. "I made it for you this morning hoping you would come." He said, almost sheepishly. "I didn't really consider that it would be cold by now but the thought is still there right?"
I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face and after seeing my reaction, he mirrored it. He reached over and handed me the coffee and I took it with careful fingers. The sides were still warm.

I tapped my fingers against the lid, staring at the designs before looking back at him. He was studying me again; in that curious way he did when he thought I wasn't looking. "Ancient Greece," I said softly. "That's what the books are about." And I left without another word.

Idin Library seemed to be bigger than the entire town of Brookefield. The building was made out of glass, twisting almost in a spiral up several levels. The first level was like a museum, with a collection of passages, primary objects from famous authors and a few paintings hung on the wall as I passed. A few teenagers lounged on cushions on the floor, clearly not coming to the library to read at all, because I spotted a pair of them making out behind a small book shelf.

I went up the first flight of stairs which took me to the children's level. Hundreds of mini bookshelves lined the walls, coloured individually into a collective rainbow. Cushions, chairs, beenbags and fluffy animals littered the floor, with children tumbled over them and laughing loudly. Little stairs along the far side of the wall led to pods where parents read to their kids in a quieter area. I watched a toddler soar over a stuffed tiger, tripping over its head to go tumbling head over heels into who I presumed was his sister. The situation ended in tears and I registered that as my cue to go to the next level.

Five levels later, I finally made it to the young adult section. This level reminded me of a typical library. Desks and tables filled the middle of the room, and computers lined the other half. To the right were rows of bookshelves, towering almost to the roof. I adjusted my back pack, the straps tugging down on my shoulder. The books Peter had given me were nearly as heavy as me.

I ambled to the historical section, letting my fingers trial across the spines of the books as titles flickered past. I breathed in the smell of stale pages, relishing it. It had been so long since I enjoyed the little things in life.

After wondering around aimlessly, I finally found the Greek section and picked out five books which seemed somewhat relevant. I carried them, ungracefully, to an unoccupied table, banging them down by accident. I mumbled a sorry to the teenagers that shot me murderous looks. Good one Renee.

I took out the books Peter had given me, leaving the little blue book in the front zipper. I began to flick through pages. Words pounded against my eyes, whirling around in my head. My spine began to ache from bending over but I ignored it, feeling a concentration headache brood against the back of my eyes.

'The Greeks were a noble group of warriors, protecting their cities with their lives. War, weaponry and power was the basis of their reign and the city of Rome shone with the colour of gold. It was at this time that architecture and sculpture designing became an art.'

I flickered through several more pages, frowning. All the books spoke of the same thing. The Greeks were blood thirsty and relied on the need for shiny objects. That pretty much covered it.

I picked up one of the books Peter had given me and turned to one of the pages marked 'Legends.' The first one stood out, displaying a picture of a white horse painted with silver and gold designs on its coat. Great, white wings protruded out of its shoulders.

'Arion,' it read. 'An immortal horse thought to be untameable. Arion was gifted to be the swiftest horse in Greece. Hercules rode on his back into war, claiming to be the only man who Arion ever let sit on his back. Arion would speak to those who he thought was worthy of conversation, however the horse grew to be manipulative and would coax people onto his back before flying several feet. He would buck them off mid-air, watching them plummet to their deaths. Soon the horse was announced dangerous, and he was hidden in an enchanted paddock to live out the rest of his immortal life in solitude.'

I swallowed, tracing my fingers against the picture of the noble horse. He was beautiful despite his nature. I continued to flick through the book, learning the legends of numerous gods who tricked their brothers and sisters into deaths or sly foxes who spoke of luxury and killed those he could lure. I had nearly given up hope when, on the final page, a picture stood out. A woman, standing brilliant and tall, held a wooden bow in her arms. Her delicate fingers played at the string, pulling it back to point the arrowhead towards a naked man. He was cowering under her, his skin covered in long hairs so he resembled the beasts I had seen in other chapters. I focused back towards the woman. She was wearing a crown woven from thorns and vines. Her hair was braided with tiny, white flowers that trailed into her dress. The material seemed to be made out of spider web silk, patterned with flower petals and leaves. Her bow was carved with swirled designs, some of which traced into Greek words I couldn't identity. Her face was pulled into a look of determination but her beauty was still evident. She looked young, her face clear and rosy. I looked back to the man. It was only at that moment I realised his eyes were yellow. Stifling a gasp, I turned my attention to the next page.

'Παρέλαση' and under it read the words. 'Parade.'

My heart skipped a beat, and it took every ounce in me not to squeal with delight.

'700BCE brought thousands of deaths along with it. Men, women and children were taken when the moon was at its highest, their screams silenced by the moonlight. Their bodies were never found, and disappearances continued to rise until leaders classified the murders as 'The Descending.' When the sun belonged to the shadows, doors would begin to lock, windows would be sealed shut with wood and children's cries of fear would be silenced by a covering hand. 'The Descending' influenced a time of fear and paranoia, and soon families sacrificed their children in the hopes of remaining alive themselves.

At midnight during 717 BCE, a baby was taken from her crib. This wasn't a rare sight, and thus her parents accepted the death of their little girl as soon as they identified her as missing. However, the little baby girl, Estrella, was far from dead. She was taken by Fenrick, a man who was given the task of retrieving her, unharmed. He delivered her to their leader, Celestina who had just been classified as barren. She had dreamed of having a child of her own, but her partner, Fuchsia, was killed by a hunter trap. And so she raised Estrella as her own, allowing her to grow up with the rest...as wolves.

Estrella adapted to hiding in the woods, growing accustomed to learning the language of the wolves well before she was offered the gift of turning. She hunted with them, on all fours and never questioned who her real mother was, Celestina had assured her daughter she was hers from birth, which in Celestina's favour, wasn't necessarily a lie.

But it was not long before Estrella started to question her mother's intention. She asked Celestina why she was taking innocent people and claiming them as her own kin, turning them into wild beasts. Her mother had influenced her into believing it was for a good cause.

Soon, Estrella fell in love with a boy, Aeneas, son of the King who was training to take his fathers place. Estrella would watch him from the woods, and admire him as he trained. She did this for two years, gradually gaining the courage to speak to him. And one night, when the sun was slipping behind the trees, she stepped out from the woods. She didn't realise that approaching a young man at night, naked and covered in dirt was not according to customs but he had paused from fighting and demanded an explanation from her. Soon, he grew to trust her, and she, trust him. She told him of her secret, and the secret of who was taking the children. He pleaded with her to tell his father, to explain who it was that was leading 'The Descending' but Estrella had begged him to remain silent, for her very mother was one of those people who would be killed if the royals found out about the wolves. He had agreed he would keep her secret, and vowed his love for her would protect her from whatever was to happen in the future.

But the future crept up on them, and the night Estrella found she was pregnant, she asked her mother again what her intentions were of the growing pack. It was then that Celestina had thought her daughter was of age. She was eighteen, an adult, she should know the secrets.

Celestina told her that she was planning on overthrowing the royals, to claim the land she always wanted and allow her pack to roam the streets. Estrella grew fearful of her own mother, telling her that this plan was not one of righteousness, but evilness. Her mother pushed her away and told Estrella she had no choice but to obey. It was at this moment that Estrella announced she was pregnant with the child of Prince Aeneas. Her mother had screamed at her, threatening to rip the child out of her belly with her bare hands but Estrella had ran. She ran, crying for her love to save her from her mother who wanted their baby dead but when she arrived at their meeting place her Prince was dead, and above his fallen body was her mother. Now she occupied yellow eyes and talons that dripped with blood. Celestina had gotten to Aeneas before she did, and Estrella sobbed with sorrow, screaming to her mother that she never had the chance to tell her love she was pregnant. Her mother advanced on her, assuring her that both her and the baby must die for the sake of the pack. Estrella, with the last bit of spite, escaped. She had grown accustomed to running long distances, and so she didn't stop until she neared a horse paddock, far away from the woods. She caught the eye of a white horse, whom she named Arion. He had beautiful white wings that allowed her to escape from her mother, who snapped at the horses heels with her canines but Arion flew her to safety, delivering her to The Kings footsteps. She told The King of her mother's plans and the death of his son and soon they were leading a war. The King had given her a sword, its hilt crested with sacred jewels. He said it was meant for his son. She took it, and named it the Parazonium. She rode into battle atop of her white horse with her golden sword clutched into her other hand. Revenge and sorrow allowed her to drive the tip of the Parazonium into her mother's heart, its blade staining with Celestina's silver blood. The wolves, her mother's people, were slaughtered, losing their courage once their leader was dead. And soon the wolves were considered extinct. Estrella burnt her mother's body and crushed up her bones, forging the blade of the Parazonium from her skeleton and then dipped it into a saucer of silver and mercury.

The city gave Estrella the title of Huntress, and followers soon claimed her as their leader. Her influence brought force the Parade, a collective group of warriors who trained to diminish the Wolves, who were soon called the Forsaken. Over time, the warriors were granted angelic powers by the Gods, and their Calling was on of magic, not proposition. Estrella led the army as any leader would, and the Parade grew in numbers over time.

Estrella gave birth months after in the palace once the King took her in. She named the blonde haired boy Zachariah Argent, the last name serving the element that had allowed her to kill her mother. Silver.

However, Estrella unknowingly gave birth to a little boy who had the genes of her mother in his veins. Celestina had given Estrella her blood over the years, hoping to turn her daughter when the time was right but the baby had fed on the blood. And soon he would become the next Wolf. The Forsaken would be reborn again.'