It had been eighteen years, and no one knew where Hera and Hermes were.
The people of Alexei had gotten hopeless at some point, especially since they could feel a connection to their true rulers, but never saw them anywhere. However, that meant that the kids were never really dead.
For eighteen years the werewolves had suffered silently.
They had lost more than they would ever be able to recover in one lifetime or even generation. The only people who would understand their pain were those who had been alive and older when the attack happened.
All of them were traumatized.
No one had wanted to stay and watch what would happen next.
It would be so much of a burden to carry.
With all that had happened, it was understandable.
The connection they felt gave them something to look forward to, a future in which they were home again. A life that would give them something to hold on to.
