Page 33 of Wolf Revealed

"But why?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She gave me a weak smile, "We didn't want you to bear another burden, not when you were already so consumed with the responsibility of your sisters."

She paused, her eyes searching mine. "We were just nearing its completion when Kadence arrived at the mountain with her pack." The mention of Kadence brought a shadow across her face, but she pushed on.

"Artemis, you need to find it, to safeguard it. It's not just our story; it's a guide, a map of our life, a treasury of knowledge that could help you all navigate the path ahead."

Tears welled up in my eyes as the gravity of her words hit me. This was Luna's legacy, the accumulation of her wisdom and her experiences—a gift from a dying mother to her daughter. And I realized it wasn't just about magic and shifting; it was about love and survival, standing up in the face of adversities, and remembering who we are and where we came from.

"I will, Mother," I promised, my voice choked with emotion. "I will find it and make sure it guides us."

As I sat there, the weight of her words sinking in, a new sense of purpose ignited within me. Luna entrusted me with her legacy and wisdom; I would honor her trust. I would carry her strength and love into the future for me, my sisters, and our pack.

As my silent pledge to Mother lingered in the cabin, I felt her grip on my hand slightly weaker. Yet, there was a new energy in her eyes—a spark of something that looked like relief mixed with a hint of pride. She'd trusted me with her dying wish and, in doing so, had passed on a torch that had been in her care for too long.

As I looked at her, ready to receive her next words, I realized that this was no longer just about survival. This was about honoring a legacy woven with love, sacrifice, and wisdom, carrying it forward into the future. It was a future we would navigate as a pack and a family bound by more than just blood.

My mother's gaze then shifted, taking on a strange, distant look as if she were peering into a world unseen by others. Her voice, though frail, rang clear in the silence of the room. "There's a hidden cabin in the forest," she said, her eyes never leaving mine. "A place where I used to write my poetry and found solace. That's where we hid the grimoire."

I blinked in surprise. A hidden cabin in the forest? Despite having lived and played in those woods since childhood, I had never encountered such a place. But Mother’s serene gaze held no room for doubt.

"You must find it," she implored, her fingers tightening weakly around mine. "And when you do, read it alone before you share its contents with your sisters."

Alone? The notion was puzzling, but I nodded, understanding the gravity of her request. She was entrusting me with a profound responsibility.

"And another thing, Artemis," she added, a strange gleam in her eyes. "You should read the book backward. Start at the end and read your way back through time."

I blinked, taken aback by the unusual instruction. But looking into her eyes, I saw no jest, only the solemn earnestness that underscored the importance of her words.

"But why, Mother?" I asked, curiosity burning bright amidst my confusion.

She offered me a wistful smile. "You'll understand when you read it, my dear," she whispered. "Trust me."

Her words hung in the air like a promise, an enigma. And I found myself nodding once again, acquiescing to her last wishes. There was a mystery to unravel, a story to read, and I felt a strange mix of apprehension and anticipation. But above all, I felt a deep-seated resolve to honor my mother's request, to delve into our past and glean wisdom from it, just as she had intended.

As I listened to my mother, my mind swirled with countless questions. I yearned to understand more about the grimoire, the hidden cabin, and why we had to read the book backward. But I knew there was a precious balance to maintain—the need for my sisters to have their own last moments with our mother.

Drawing in a steadying breath, I ventured one final question. "Mother, what do we do about the things from the past that divided us?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The bitterness, jealousy, and secrets discovered after our father's death—how could we move forward carrying that weight?

Luna's gaze softened, a tender wisdom emanating from her. "Let it all go," she said, her voice slicing through the thick air. "Don't dwell on the past grievances, the envy, and the untold stories. They belonged to a time gone by, not to your future."

Her words hung in the room, a bittersweet reminder of a time when we were a united front before our father's influence chipped away at our unity. Yet, as I looked at her lying there, her strength waning with every passing minute, I understood that she was granting us the freedom to shape our own destinies, unburdened by past grievances.

With a heavy heart, I rose from the bedside and went to find my sisters. It was their turn to say their goodbyes, to have their final moments with our mother. They entered the room, their faces pale and strained, yet holding a resolve that mirrored my own. We were about to face a world without our mother, our guide. But we were not alone—we had each other.

With one last glance at Luna, I turned and walked away, my heart thudding heavily in my chest. The time had come to venture out alone, to find the grimoire that held our past and perhaps our future. With each step, the weight of Luna's words resonated within me. Our past did not define us; we had the power to shape our future. And that started with the task Luna had entrusted me with.

Stepping into the chill of the night, I looked back at the village one last time before setting off. Their fires flickered in the distance, glowing warmly on the stone houses. It was a beacon of our communal strength and unity—a beacon I would carry with me into the depths of the forest.

As I ventured further from the village, the lights dimmed, and the sounds of the night took over. My heart echoed Luna's plea—find the book, understand it, protect it. And so, under the moon's silver glow, I slipped away from the village, a silent promise lingering in the air. I would return with a book, a legacy to uphold, and a future to forge.

Chapter Seventeen

Unveiling Legacy

Artemis

The forest had already consumed the sunlight when I approached the familiar clearing. The hidden cabin was cradled by ancient pines that stretched toward the heavens. The forest seemed to hold its breath around it, an aura of age-old silence seeping from the rough bark and weaving through the undergrowth. The verdant ferns, speckled mushrooms, and overgrown moss all stood as muted sentinels under the towering canopy. Their vibrant colors softened in the twilight gloom.

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