Angelina's POV
"She'll be no trouble."
Angelina stopped in the hallway, voices drifted up from the living room below. She crept along the shadows, and stole a glance down.
Freya and Jacob were standing near the door, no doubt bidding farewell to their guest.
"Good," A familiar voice drifted up "After we reach the capital, you shall receive your promised reward once everything falls in place."
"You're too kind, my lord," Jacob said smoothly
Angelina narrowed her eyes a notch, swallowed as they were from grieving. My Lord…?
"For now," she couldn't see what was presented to her Aunt and Uncle "A small gift."
There was a flurry of grateful words and praises, Angelina slipped back into her room. Her mind raced through possibilities, twirling the golden band on her finger over and over.
What could he have them do? Why would Jacob called him 'My Lord'?
Your promised reward… once everything falls into place…
She sucked in a sharp breath, her hands stilled.
Angelina tried to pull the ring off her finger.
It stayed.
Panic seeped into her bones, weighting them down.
She pulled harder and harder, twisting and turning the band every which way until she was sure she'd ripped the tendons off her finger.
Everything clicked in a flurry of horror. Every emotion she'd kept inside was raw and overflowing.
Angelina sat back on the bed with a rough breath of laughter, full of self-mockery.
Of course, she curled her fists so tight, they trembled, of course they would sell me off. Couldn't let go of the chance to sell an antique piece, could they?
Never trust good fortune if you can't see its price.
I forgot papa, she wiped at her eyes, but I remember now.
That night, Angelina lay in bed and thought of what she'd do next, where she'd go.
And the next morning, when Freya and Jacob left for work, the house caught fire, burning everything and everyone there was inside.
Her eyes fluttered open.
It was still dark, as it always was when she woke up. Every memory was vivid in her head, the ring on her finger tightened painfully.
Angelina watched with morbid curiosity as the fissures grew deeper in the black stone. Soon it would fall apart, and the witch's debt would be paid. Soon, she would no longer be invisible.
She pushed herself up and gathered her hair in a knot. In the bed across the room, Morgan slept, snoring peacefully.
Angelina stopped midrise, and then sat back down.
Morgan and Marion. Marion and Morgan. Sisters.
They were nothing like each other.
Marion was soft, polite, quiet. Morgan was bold, confident, out spoken. And where Marion had chosen the quiet life in the middle of a forest, far from even the nearest pack, Morgan had taken charge of the Omegas in one of the largest packs in America with her mate.
Marion was gone. Morgan was not.
Five years ago, Morgan had taken Angelina in with all her secrets, and told everyone she was to be called her daughter, not her sister's.
I should've come to you in the first place, Angelina thought. But she couldn't have. It made no difference to the guilt roiling in her stomach.
Unbidden, Tyler's face flashed in her head, full of fury.
Every emotion she felt was useless.
Angelina took a deep breath and got up to start early on the pack's breakfast, too used to the weight on her chest.
She had a very long life to live with it.
…
"I want you to take this to Alpha Parks' territory."
It was late afternoon, and the setting sun's light filtered dust in the air of Alpha Jax's office.
Angelina took the envelope from his hands with a nod.
Letters or invites usually never made it much further into Alpha Parks' territory, and often ended up on their pack's doorstep.
"Make it quick," Alpha Jax passed a seal down the table "Its urgent."
"Of course, Alpha." Angelina bowed her head and left his office
Being the fastest runner in the Omegas, the responsibility of delivering simple things to their three neighboring packs had come quickly to her.
It helped that she never forgot any passage she once took.
Angelina turned the thick envelope in her hands as she descended the stairs, having no doubt what it was.
An invite from the Alpha Supreme for a land distribution meeting.
Several decades ago, the royals of the Lycan race died out in wars against vampires, leaving the prominent Alphas of that time with the question of who to follow.
The Alpha Supreme title was created then, to govern a circle of Alphas with prominent linages.
Which was now called the Supreme council, with Alpha Luke Winters as the seventh Alpha Supreme.
And by some turn of events, his mate was one of the only close friends Angelina had.
Elise had told Angelina all about the meeting on their daily call, how it would be grand and whatnot.
Just the envelope looked fancy.
My excuse for a run through the forest. Angelina smiled at the envelope as she left the main Pack House, walking towards the gates. The boundary of Alpha Parks' pack is far enough—
Angelina stopped, stilled.
Tyler would be there.
A hundred scenarios raced through her head, each one ended more gruesome than the last.
But he hadn't told anyone yet.
He didn't know who to tell.
It'll be fine, Angelina made her legs move when a few passing warriors cast her irritated glances.
It was a relief to reach the forest, to inhale the scent of the earth.
Angelina wanted to run, to feel the wind on her face, her feet flying over the earth. But she walked, keeping her pace fast.
She didn't want this to end too soon.
Winter was approaching fast, and despite everything she was wearing, Angelina could feel the bite in the air.
The longer she walked, the colder it got, to the point where breath clouded in front of her mouth. Angelina drew her coat tighter around herself, painfully aware of the darkening sky.
Once, being alone in a forest would've been nothing to her.
Once, she'd have relished the thought of a fight.
Once, she would've been the predator.
How low she'd fallen.
Angelina pushed her way through a familiar group of trees, and stopped short.
In front of her stood a very familiar cottage.
The roof was made of several colours of hay. Or that's what she liked to tell herself, despite the too familiar sheen of hair. The cottage itself was made of moldy wood, dark stains splattered on a few boards.
Hissing a swear, she spun away, only to face the door.
It opened without a whisper of sound, a silent invitation.
Angelina wanted to turn away, she wanted to grab the door handle and slam it back shut.
The ring on her finger throbbed painfully.
She could almost hear the obsidian cracking.
Angelina stared at the unlit hallway ahead of her, stared at the worn rug, the dreamer catchers made of bones hanging on the walls.
She took a deep breath and tucked the envelope in the branched of a nearby tree.
Then she stepped over the threshold.
The door closed shut behind her.
…
She'd known Korra since she was four.
The woman in front of her now wasn't anywhere near the one she'd seen growing up. Her voluminous blond hair was now grey, gathered in a knot rather than letting it flow down her back like before. Her skin was sagged and wrinkled, at odds with the flawless expanse she had before.
But her eyes.
They were still the same. Bright yellow, scorching, too clever.
"Little deceiver," The Witch grinned, yellow and golden teeth sharp "Ya thought ya could run from me?"
The cottage was more of a manor on the inside. That is, a manor full of cauldrons and jars of things better left alone. If Korra didn't want to meet someone, they would never find her in the winding hallways.
Korra had once told her intruders spend their whole lives wandering.
She used their bones for decorations.
"Do I have any reason to?" Angelina kept her voice carefully neutral
Korra chuckled, gaze piercing "Ya're time is up."
Angelina ignored the sudden tightness in her chest. She'd known this was coming. She'd prepared for it.
She leaned back in the armchair she sat on "I'm aware. I was wondering—
Korra cut her off with a click of her tongue "Ya won't get anythin' more from me. The debt is paid."
Part of her wanted to beg for more time. The remains of her pride crushed that thought.
Angelina swallowed, and extended a hand "Then there's nothing to say."
A distant wail echoed from somewhere in the manor. Angelina didn't move her eyes from the witch's yellow gaze.
Korra snatched her hand, her grip crushing. Her skin was ice cold.
She muttered words in languages lost to Angelina, her other hand closing around the ring to pull it off.
Angelina sucked in a sharp breath at the burning in her chest. She would've screamed if she could, would've snatched her hand back. Something cracked as the stone did, leaving her skin raw and unprotected.
Through a blurr of tears she didn't know she was shedding, Angelina looked at her hand when Korra let go.
The ring was gone, leaving only scarred skin on her finger.
The sight was disarming.
"Our bargain comes to an end, dearie." Korra closed a hand around the band, and when she opened it again, it was gone " 'ood luck. Ya'll need it."
"I doubt that," Angelina rose to her feet, refusing to let her voice shake
Then more to spite the witch than anything else, she added;
"Your debt to my father is paid," She said "Finally."
Korra pulled her lips in a snarl and waved a hand.
Wind rose up, and despite herself, Angelina closed her eyes against it.
When she opened her eyes again, it was dark, and she stood facing a group of familiar trees, a familiar envelope tucked in the branches.
The witch was gone.
So was the magic.