Chapter 1: Sena - Fated to the Night King

The oily stink of smoke clung to me, and I could feel the slick smear of ash every time I swiped at my face. Even though there were a few grumbles from the true shifters sent out with us, our group remained steadfast.

We weren't leaving until everybody had seen an honest burning. On pyres built with our own aching hands.

It was the only honor we could convey now.

"No survivors." Glory's hands twisted in her lap as we watched the final round of flames lick up into the night sky. Already I could feel the moon sinking, her pull still a tug against my skin even as I couldn't truly answer the call.

A shifter who couldn't shift.

Worthless.

Faithless.

I'd heard every whispered epithet, seen every disgusted look sent my way. Since that first day I was carried out of a village much like this one, barely alive.

A living reminder to the pack of what happens when one turns away from the Goddess.

Silver Sickness is a painful way to die.

My stomach roils as the memories wash over me. The burning beneath my skin, the way I'd tried to strip my own flesh away, even though I was too weak to do so. How my cries were matched by my own family, until the first voice went silent, and then the next. Over and over.

Until it was only me. My voice. My pain.

When the Alpha came, they say I was clinging to life. Stubborn, crawling out into the square, falling at his feet. A child still, but one who fought to live.

There are stories told even now of how the Alpha showed his greatness that day, his compassion. Scooping me into his arms, unafraid of the contagion, and carrying me back to the Pack's land. He told all that a will to live should be honored. And a life saved will serve to repay the debt of such good will.

I was the first.

But not the last.

We were our own quadra, not truly Pack, but allowed a place. A shelter.

If we served.

The whole trek to this village I'd worried over the outcome. What we would find. The reports had been limited, few scouts willing to get close to confirm any true details. Would we find all were dead? Or would this be another trip where we'd be nursing survivors, giving them hope they would escape the pain, only to deliver them to another place without real welcome.

There to serve. Grateful for the chance.

And always, to submit.

"You all right?" The whisper of Glory's usually too loud voice forced my gaze away from the fires that were still burning. When my eyes met hers, she bowed her head. "No survivors this time, Sena.  I haven't decided if I'm happy or sad."

"Happy, Glory. Be happy for them. They're free."

Wood snapped, sparks bursting up into the darkness as the final pyre gave way, the remains of those we'd returned to the Goddess were pulled up into the night sky on the hot currents of air. The ache in my heart eased a little as this job was finally done.

"There are books," Glory said, touching my arm quickly as I stood. She kept her voice low, pitched so only I could hear as our quadra all rose to their feet. This part was over, and those sent to watch us were restless to return home. In their wolf forms, there was no doubt the stench of the bodies and burnt flesh had been overwhelming. I had no care for their discomfort, as none of them cared for ours. They were already turning away, tails disappearing into the brush alongside the roadway, the clear expectation that we would all follow.

I offered Glory a hand, pulling her up and steadying her until I was sure she could stand on her own. Her joints plagued her constantly, and it hadn't escaped me the way she struggled with her mobility. Even simple tasks were becoming harder for her. I'd have to find some way to get her assigned to work that was less taxing. These journeys were getting to be too much for her.

"Where?" I leaned in close, adjusting the straps of her pack as if I were simply helping to rebalance the weight, and she tipped her chin toward the second to last home on the way out of the village. The shutters on the outside were a bright blue, almost glowing in the fading silver light from the moon, and I gave my friend a tight smile. "I'll take care of it."

Glory walked away, moving stiff but quick, waving over Colm, one of the younger Stricken ones. He'd just joined our quadra, replacing another who'd relapsed and not come out of it.

The number of bodies we'd burned recently felt like a weight pressing down on me. A burden I could never set aside. Because if I did, who would remember? Who would be able to honor them?

A bark broke through the night, and our group began to gather, moving toward the end of the village with slow plodding steps. I slipped to the edge of our line, and when the house appeared on my left, darted in through the door.

A pile of books was set off to the side, just past the entrance, and I hurriedly dropped my pack to the ground and tugged it open. There was no time to look at what Glory had found or check the material. Frankly, it didn't even matter. Just having them would be exciting enough for those we'd left behind.

An escape from the daily toll we paid. A little comfort when there was none otherwise to be found.

I added the books to the bag, settled the tie back in place, and left the little cottage with a final glance around. It seemed a warm place, lovingly cared for until the ones who'd made it a home were gone. Now it would likely just sit here and rot, as the bodies had done until we came to give them decent farewell.

The idea of that made my chest ache. Maybe because there would be no more laughter or family meals at the scrubbed table. No smiling couple to welcome their children home. Maybe it was because I grieved the life they could have had if not for the plague that we saw no end to.

Maybe it was because it reminded me of the life I once had.

That was not a thought I could let myself pursue. The pain of remembering would be even worse than what I felt now.

And that kind of pain might break me.

I left the pretty space behind, calling to Colm as I jogged to catch up with the stragglers at the back of the quadra. Falling into step was easy.

Looking back was not.