Page 4 of Destined to the Lycan
Too stunned that she already knew my full name, I stopped dead in my tracks and gaped at her while my mind struggled to catch up. This fumbling behavior made no sense coming from me. I wasn’t the type to just freeze or panic in the face of adversity. Whatever inner turmoil I felt, I normally shoved it down and rose to the moment until the situation was resolved.
But then, I’d never stood in the presence of a goddess before.
A taunting smirk stretched her lips. With a conviction I couldn’t explain, I realized she knew exactly what thoughts were currently crossing my mind.
“Have a seat,” she said, waving slightly to my left.
Before I could ask where, a grinding sound from behind startled me. My jaw dropped when I glanced over my shoulder to see a chair I hadn’t noticed by the door gliding over the wooden floor and stop in front of the table. Although I’d seen mages and conjurers use telekinetic abilities, it had never been so effortless.
Swallowing hard, I complied.
“Thank you, Weaver,” I said, finding my voice at last. “And thank you for agreeing to see me. As you know my name, it appears that the rumors are true when they claim that you know everything.”
She snorted, an amused glimmer flicking through her purple eyes as her pupils dilated again into a rounder shape—which honestly made her come across as less intimidating.
“Everything, no. I wish that were the case. But most things, yes. For example, I do not know your ultimate fate, only potential outcomes,” she replied.
I instantly perked up. “Any positive ones?” I asked, slightly embarrassed by the excessive eagerness in my voice.
She pursed her lips and gave me an assessing look. “Yes,” the Weaver said at last.
“So you know the cause of my illness, or whatever it is?” I asked, leaning forward.
“It is not an illness but poison slowly killing you,” she stated matter-of-factly.
I recoiled. “Poison?! Which one? Where and how did I get infected?”
A speculative expression fleeted over her face before it returned to a neutral state. “That’s for you to figure out.”
I blinked and stared at her in confusion. “What? If you know what it is, why not just tell me?”
“I cannot solve things for you,” she replied carefully, her face taking on an air of intensity that almost had me squirming in my chair. “You need a cure, and I can tell you where to find it. But securing it is your burden to bear. While I’m allowed to tell you that you’re poisoned, you must find the source and eliminate it.”
I took a moment to digest her words. Whatever doubts might have lingered in my mind as to the fact that she was a goddess or one of the Ancients totally faded. Only gods and demigods were bound by Covenants. Some demons and familiars could also fall under such restrictions, but she was neither of those lesser beings.
“Very well,” I replied hesitantly, my mind still racing. “I have tried in vain to find the source of my illness. But what happens if I acquire the cure first without finding the source?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “You will be fine. If you manage to get the cure, then you will be immune forever.”
“Is it the same thing that killed my father?” I asked, tension seeping into my voice.
“Yes,” she replied factually.
My chest constricted as the unpleasant thought that had plagued me since the first symptoms manifested themselves reared its ugly head again.
“You said it is a poison killing me. So this is not genetics, right? It is not some hereditary illness passed down to me?”
“It is not.”
I clenched my teeth as anger surged through me. “That means someone is after us.”
“It is a fair assumption,” she responded in a noncommittal fashion.
That, too, angered me. I wanted to snap at her and demand that she give me proper answers. She held the information I needed. I didn’t doubt for a moment that she knew the exact identity of the person who had taken my father’s life and who was now after me. But who were they and why? Above all, why now?
As far as I knew, my uncle had no other children or significant other who lived here in the Americas. No one contested his will or even expressed the slightest interest in moving here or claiming the house. Therefore, it made no sense that this inheritance could be the motive for the attack. But if it wasn’t, why wait until I came here instead of many years ago while I still lived in Harmstead?
I almost questioned her about all of this before catching myself. She couldn’t answer any of these questions. Pressing her about them would not only be pointless but also risk alienating her. As I desperately needed her assistance, I carefully worded my following requests.
