Chapter 2

Few days after the curse

Draco ran with the potion in his hand, breathing heavily as he scaled through mountains and constantly checked the vial, hoping the contents hadn’t spilled.

It hadn’t been easy for him after he had left the cave the other day. He had gone in search of the witch who had cursed the pack in hopes that he might find her but had had to go back with a groan as he realized that he had been too late.

He had no idea who it could have been, but he knew dark magic. His father had made sure he read all the books in the library about witches, and he had run to the library after he left the cage to find the locations of good mages who could combat the spell and break the curse.

Turning into the present, he sent prayers to the heavens that the potion worked. He felt too lonely and despised, knowing that he couldn’t shift. He was cranky, but there was no one to take his aggression on, and he felt more annoyed.

He sighed as he saw the borders of his country, a smile lighting up his worn-out face, and strength seeped into his tired bones.

“Don’t you worry, people. This alpha is going to save you,” he said to himself as he pushed himself up the slopes.

He made a turn and went a path, breathing in relief as his feet touched down on the soil of his hand. He held the vial carefully with both hands and walked to the cave. His heart banged in his chest loudly, wondering how the wolves had been in his absence.

His fear was confirmed when he got inside and saw some of the wolves lying wounded and bleeding, and he almost wept at the brutality of the scene. He put the vial in the pocket of his trousers and decided to test a theory that had been in his mind since the second day the pack got cursed.

He had expected the wolves to run out and look for food when they got angry and had been shocked to find them all in. It seemed to him that they preferred to stay inside and fight with one another than go out and fight for their meal.

He went closer to one of the smaller wolves as much as he dared, avoiding the canines of the bigger wolves beside it, but they all just looked at him, looking drained and hungry. He picked the wolf and moved toward the entrance.

The wolves kept silent, staring at him as if sensing he was about to help them. Draco swallowed and moved forward with trepidation, his hands on which the wolf sat trembling. He got to the entrance and slammed into an invisible barrier. He dropped the wolf, and it scooted back to the rest. He moved forward and walked out of the cave without any hindrance.

He walked back into the cave, cursing the witch who had done that to his family. He realized that the wolves were not in there because they chose to be there and hungry but because they couldn’t move out and were being forced to attack one another.

“Whoever you are, witch, you are a bitch!” He yelled out loud and winced when his voice echoed back at him.

Some older wolves raised their heads to look at him and scowled, giving him a bad look before lowering their heads and closing their eyes.

Draco was grateful they had stopped barking at him and pushing to have his flesh as snacks and felt motivated to keep trying to save them. It seemed they now knew who he was but couldn’t do any more than that for him. 

He was not satisfied that they only recognized him. He wanted more. He wanted to laugh and play with them. He wanted to hear their voices – their actual voices and not the annoying whines they made in their wolf forms. He wanted to eat with them and have the pups drag his meat from his mouth as they used to.

With a sigh, he brought out the vial from the pockets and held his breath, waiting for a miracle to happen. He smashed the vial on the floor of the cave, inhaling the scent as the mage had instructed. His eyes roamed over the pack, watching for their reactions to being certain they actually inhaled the s********.

The smoke from the vial frizzled out, and his heart pounded in his chest as he counted numbers in his head, waiting patiently for a bang to occur and see the wolves all turned to humans.

A few minutes later, he was forced to admit to himself that the potion had failed like the other ones he had tried.

He racked his brain, thinking of the next mage to go to, but before that, he had an important task to do. If his wolves couldn’t go out to eat, nothing stopped him from going to bring food in for them.

He went to his father’s old store to get some arrows and a bow since he couldn’t shift to a werewolf again and hoped he still knew how to shoot an arrow.

The last thing he needed was to injure himself in the woods while trying to bring food to his people or, worse, get himself killed. He sent a prayer to the heavens that the latter didn’t happen, as he was the only hope for the clan if they were to break free of the curse.

***

A few months later

Draco looked around the building unsure if he had gotten the right address. He whipped out the map in the pockets of his tattered trousers, glanced through it, and nodded in satisfaction to himself. This was his last hope as he had gone through the list of limited mages his father had kept in case something like this happened.

He bit down on a bitter laugh, wondering how fate could be cruel to him. His father had always been paranoid about the comeback of the witches and had been prepared for them, but they never attacked until he was dead and came in the time he was alpha when he didn’t even believe in the paranoia of his father and never prepared for them.

He was certain his father would have found something to combat the curse if he had been alive and the curse had happened in his time. He blamed himself for being a shitty alpha. He had finally found out the name of the witch who had cursed his pack.

He had stumbled on a  chart in his father’s study and had been amazed to know that he had kept a record of the names of all the dark magic witches that were in existence and was surprised when he found out that only one of them was still alive.

Ayra Callus. She had been the one to curse his pack.

He knocked again on the door and strained his ear to know if someone was inside, cursing at the loss of his supernatural senses. Apart from the loss of the ability to shift, he realized much more, to his dismay, that his enhanced senses of smell, hearing, and sight had all been diminished. He had also lost his strength and had almost yelled his lungs out when he found out that he was aging. 

Though he was a hundred and twenty-five years old, he had stopped aging at the age of twenty-five and had maintained that look for a century. He had no memories of being sick, but recently, he felt like a mortal being. He felt weaker than ever, and the last time he saw his reflection, he had looked older and haggard than he usually was. He wondered if he had really once been the belle the females in the pack couldn’t stop gushing over. Since then, he had steered clear of places where he would be forced to gaze at his reflection.

He growled low in his throat, sending his daily missiles of curses at the witch who had cursed them. 

He rapped on the door, hissing as his knuckles hurt from banging too hard. He rubbed and blew on the hands before shoving them into his pockets. A gust of cold wind blew around him, ruffling the edges of the cloth which barely covered him. He knew it was an overstatement to wish the cloth could give him the warmth he desired and prayed the door would open quickly.

“Who is that?” A voice asked from inside.

“Finally,” he breathed. He could hear footsteps moving toward the door. “Is this the mage Alik’s house?”

A frail old man opened the door and glared at him. “What are you? What are you doing in Myruim Falls?” he asked, frowning.

Draco almost chuckled out loud, but he figured it would be an insult to the old man, and he wasn’t about to make himself an enemy to the man who could help him and his people. If only the mage knew he had been in Myruim Falls for the past few months, he wouldn’t have asked that question.

“Good evening, honorable mage. I am Draco.”

The mage scowled, unimpressed, his eyes squinting at him in annoyance. “What are you?”

“Oh!” Draco gasped as understanding dawned on him, blaming himself for being stupid. “I am a werewolf, mage. The alpha of the Skan pack.”

The mage snorted. “You don’t smell like an alpha.”

Draco hid his pain behind a smirk. “That is why I am in Myruim Falls, mage.”

The mage nodded and beckoned to him to come into the house. He sat and sighed in gratitude as the mage directed him to the furnace. He moaned, scooting closer to the fire.

“Thank you,” he bowed to the mage, who ignored him, sorting through some items on his desk as Draco watched.

Without looking back, the mage spoke. “Tell me your story.”

Draco began and spilled everything out, including his struggles, repeated trips to the Falls, fear and frustration, and how he noticed he was aging.

The mage nodded as he sat beside him. “As you are aging, so are the wolves you left back at home. The curse is strong, and you are lucky not to be around when the witch came. You said they couldn’t move out of the cave?”

Draco nodded. “Yes, mage.”

The mage chuckled. “Bad Ayra,” he said, confirming Draco’s suspicion.

“The curse was an entrapment curse. You were all supposed to be trapped in the form you can’t think to help yourselves or go out of that cave till you all die and go into extinction.”

Draco gasped. “Oh my! How can you help me, mage? I don’t want to die.”

The mage shook his head. “I can’t help. It’s too strong for me, but I can give you a potion that will stop you from aging and another that will turn the wolves into stones so they won’t die out or kill themselves. I believe this will help slow down the curse while you look for stronger mages, wizards, and witches. I am sorry I can’t do more than that.”

It sounded like a good idea, but his heart still felt like a stone was being placed on it because he had hoped for more.

“Thank you, mage,” he said and extended his hand for the potion, his heart heavy that he would travel home for another fruitless trip.

The mage handed the potion to him. “Take. Use it as fast as you can.”

He nodded, thanking the mage once more. “Do you think I will be able to break the curse?”

The mage shrugged. “Time only can tell.”

Draco fought back the tears as he walked out of the mage’s house.