The Half Blood

I was desperate for clarity.

My feet pounded against the pavement as I ran.

I didn’t stop until I reached the charming hotel on the outskirts of the city where we were vacationing.

I barged into Maeve’s room, gasping for breath.

“N-Nala,” she stammered, her eyes wide with surprise. “What’s happening?”

“I saw something,” I managed to say. “In the woods.”

“A creature?”

“No,” I hesitated. “More like a vision.”

Maeve chuckled. “Perhaps your witchy side is finally showing itself.”

“Don’t joke. This is serious.”

Her smile faded when she saw the seriousness in my eyes.

“What did you see?”

“I saw myself,” I swallowed hard before continuing, “with a man.”

“Who was he?”

“That’s the problem. I couldn’t see his face.”

“Can I take a look?” Maeve offered, extending her hands towards me.

While I was born a werewolf, my sister had inherited our father's magical abilities. She was skilled at manipulating dreams and memories. She could make you remember them, learn from them, and control them.

We typically performed these rituals in her bedroom. She would close all the blinds and light candles, red ones for matters of the heart, as she liked to say.

When we were younger, Maeve needed spellbooks, but now that she had matured and practiced under our father's guidance, she didn’t need them anymore.

Maeve brought out her rose quartz crystal and a few others I didn’t recognize and arranged them in a circle between us.

We sat, eyes closed, facing each other, on a pair of plush velvet pillows.

I never knew what to do during these rituals, so I usually just stayed silent and let Maeve take the lead. Although I was technically a hybrid, I hadn’t shown any magical abilities, apart from the whole werewolf thing, of course.

Maeve took several deep breaths, gently rubbed her palms together, and placed them on my temples. She whispered spells under her breath; I couldn’t understand the words. Initially, her hands felt cold, but with each whisper, her hands grew warmer. It wasn’t an uncomfortable heat, but it did make my skin tingle. It felt like her hands were melding with my head. Then she fell silent.

“Hand me my pen and paper,” she murmured.

I quickly dug through her bags and found them at the bottom.

As soon as the pencil touched her fingers, her hand began to move, sketching lines on the page. Even with her eyes still closed, I could see a face taking shape. I tried to recognize the man's face, but I didn’t know him. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember those god-like features.

When Maeve’s eyes snapped open, she immediately looked down at her drawing.

“Do you recognize him?” She asked.

I shook my head.

“Neither do I,” she said, sounding disappointed. “But Nala, this is the face of your mate.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“My mate?” I scoffed.

“Yes,” she responded simply.

“Stop it,” I rolled my eyes. “Be serious. We both know that’s not going to happen. I just had a moment of madness in the forest.”

“I am serious. This man is your mate.”

Could it be possible?

Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself. ~If you had a mate, he would have shown up by now.~

"I’m not sure, Maeve,” I began. “I think I've given up. Maybe he's given up too."

“Listen, never give up on finding him. That man is your other half."

"Maeve, I'm honestly scared to meet him, after what happened to you..." I felt foolish bringing up her past. Her gaze turned solemn, her expression serious.

“My situation was different, Nala. My mate was a human, and you know that humans don’t feel the bond like we do. Yes, I’m divorced, and yes, I suffered when I found out he was unfaithful, but I don’t regret anything.”

Just as I was about to apologize for bringing up the past, the door swung open. It was our parents, back from their lunch.

“Girls!” Our mother exclaimed, hugging Maeve first, then me. “How has your day been?”

Maeve glanced at me, clearly unsure what I wanted to reveal and what I wanted to keep hidden.

“Is everything okay?” My father asked, noticing the ritualistic setup in front of us.

“Yeah,” I interjected, hastily attempting to distract him. “Everything’s fine. We’re just doing our usual—”

“Drawing?” My mom queried, spotting the sketch hidden beneath Maeve’s thigh.

Before Maeve could prevent her, my mom brought the sketch closer to her gaze.

“Already so thrilled to be in the Royal Kingdom, huh?” She chuckled for no apparent reason. “Honey, look. It seems like Maeve and Nala have a little crush developing.”

“What are you talking about?” I questioned.

Maeve looked as bewildered as I felt. Meanwhile, my dad, after glancing at the portrait, joined my mom in her fit of laughter.

“Dear ones,” my mom giggled. “That’s a sketch of King Alaric.”