Chapter 239

With more time and a little assistance from one of the Wave Wolfstags Joral named Childra, I finally got to see my new "brand" as I decided to call it. The mark was a pure white spear, pointed upward and onward while at the base of the spear's haft was a strange little wiggly bit, something I couldn't understand what it was until the [System], unprompted, had informed me:

[The marking on your chest is the divine mark of the Goddess Nievtala's domains: victory and conquest. The spear points ever onwards, towards the next conquest. The banner below the spear is representative of the nations and powers felled before the insatiable progress of Nievtala's cause.]

It could be clearer to see, but I recognized the fact that it was a tattoo underneath my scales, and white on my dull gray, not exactly a combination leading to great depth of detail in artistic rendition. In a moment of what was either delusion or enlightenment, I decided to take up one of our spears in response to my new decoration. When I held the weapon once more, it felt more comfortable in my hands and I subconsciously dropped into a battle-ready position. Nothing seemed to have changed, and a part of me wondered if it was simply a self-fulfilling mentality–that since I felt like I would probably be more comfortable with the weapon now, I actually would be.

I had spent a little bit of time in this life using our poleaxes, and though they'd functioned as intended and cut through the crocodiles' thick hide, I'd never been especially comfortable with it. As a human, I'd used the spear and bow, while a keelish's weapons were his fangs and claws. I couldn't say what the Keel would be like, though I had my suspicions, and maybe it would change, but for killing, my own body was my greatest weapon. The spear, though, felt like an extension of my body, in a comfortable, subconscious way. I couldn't yet say that I wanted to follow along with all of Nievtala's plans for me, but I could at least use her gifts for my people.

As I began walking away, into the swarm, Sybil spoke up. "Is there something that you need to do, Alpha?"

"I… I feel like I need to look into Farahlia, see if there's something that she's trying behind the scenes."

"Was it not just last night that you said that you generally trust her and her intentions?"

"Yes, just… something you said and a gut feeling, I guess."

Sybil shrugged. "Very well then. I will gather whoever I can to ensure that you have the support that you need. Expect myself or Shemira to speak with you soon."

I smiled and continued to turn to walk away as I gently tapped Sybil with my tail. She jokingly nipped at it as I went, and I couldn't help but be reminded of when she had mutilated herself to prove herself to Took all those months ago. Unthinking, I turned back until I loomed over Sybil and then leaned down and gently, softly nipped at her tail where the scars remained, the bite quickly transitioning to a nuzzle. Without me realizing it, Sybil went completely still at my focus, her eyes searching for my own.

After a moment's silence, I finally turned my gaze to my Beta, my friend, my mate. "What was going through your mind when you did this?"

A shrug. "In order to enter your pack and protect myself from Tieran, I needed your approval, and that approval was conditional upon Took's own. She mentioned the willingness to shed blood, and so I did so."

"As I remember, you didn't hesitate for even a moment."

"You remember correctly."

"How?"

"I am willing to do what is necessary to achieve my goals." Sybil spoke plainly, as if it were the most average thing in the world to do, to permanently scar yourself for a marginal immediate return. A part of me, a part I wasn't sure was all khatif, understood the mentality: be cruel to those who stand in your way, even if that which impeded your progress was a part of yourself. I was shook from my introspection by Sybil's words. "If Farahlia is, in fact, planning something malicious, what do you plan to do? Can you do what is necessary to prevent her from stopping you from achieving your goals?"

"If she's turned away my tolerant hand, then she'll die." The finality of my statement came easily to me, and I couldn't suppress a chuckle. "You continue to rub off on me, Sybil."

"As all good relationships do."

For the next day, Sybil, Shemira, and I applied ourselves towards truly investigating everything we could find about Farahlia from her actions, who she hunted with, who she ate with, her children, her preferred schedule, everything. I wished I had even a bone of subtlety in me in my own investigations, but I consoled myself by saying that my own actions acted as a smokescreen for Sybil's efforts. Shemira simply flirted with a couple of the males and, once they were clay in her hands, she'd reported, "She seems to be happy to follow you. The males're all pissed cause she won't mate with them anymore. She's following that command, and doesn't seem like she'd be willing to let those one rut her anyways. She's got her eyes set on you."

My frustrated tail lashed. "It isn't going to happen."

"She doesn't seem to think there's no chance. She did become khatif, and not one of the Kha', Sik', or Hak' castes. She's like a lot of your elites." Shemira wasn't arguing, but she made good points, points I deliberately disregarded.

In the midst of this, it seemed the entirety of the swarm had things that they needed to talk to me about, from where exactly we were going to what to have for breakfast to who should hunt with who and so on. Shemira came up at one point, saying, "You should let Joral know that you're proud of him and trust him. He's been on eggshells since the last times that he's taken initiative you've been tough on him."

I couldn't refute her words, and so I settled on letting Joral know about how I was glad he was growing into a good leader when I wasn't so focused on knowing for sure if Farahlia was the forked tongue I was looking for. Instead of being able to take action on my own terms, however, I was forced into the conversation as Joral himself approached me.

"Um… Shemira says she talked to you? I need to ask for your forgiveness–"

"Yes, she did, and she's right. I trust you, and you need to hear that."

"Really? You think she's right?"

"Right about what?"

"That it isn't pure luck that I survived? Rulac, Wisterl, Histy, all the rest… dead."

"Of course it wasn't luck. You've proven yourself smart, willing to take initiative, and capable. I've always thought that you'd be a great Alpha, once you were a little more polished. Now, you've got that polish. I'm proud of you and what you've done. I'm looking forward to what you can achieve moving forward."

Joral stood up straight as I spoke, then nodded, proud and not trying to hide it. "I'll make sure to make you proud. I'll never forget that."

I rolled my eyes internally at the melodrama, then nodded to dismiss him as I continued my investigations.

After a day of learning nothing new, just that she was constantly flirty and apparently lusty while also not being much or a leader of her own merit, I was frustrated enough with my own efforts to ask Farahlia directly.

"What do you want?"

Immediately she sidled up next to me, trying to flick at me with her tail. "I want you to dominate me, Alpha."

I snapped my tail out, firmly slapping her across the face, not hard enough to send her reeling, but enough to snap her out of her attempted seduction. My face was a picture of stone as I repeated myself, "What do you want?"

"What do you mean?" Farahlia's tone was sullen, lacking any of the demure flirtatiousness that constantly permeated her bearing.

"I mean, what do you want? I can't imagine that the only thing you want to do in life is rut. It's enjoyable, sure, but that is far from all that there is to a continued existence. So, what do you aspire to have, to do?"

"You didn't need to slap me to ask that… Could it be that this is the kind of play that…" slowly, the flirt was edging back into her voice, but as I raised my tail threateningly again, the coquettish tone slowly faded into nothing. She sighed, then continued. "I think that, at the core of it all, your Sybil and I have similar desires: to be safe, to be protected, and not to be owned by some bastard with more strength than he knows what to do with."

I scoffed. "That seems pretty contrary to what you said when I defeated you in that duel."

A shrug. "Didn't go according to the plans I had. Instead of my magic, I decided to try the real way. A male who's in love with rutting, dominating, owning you is pretty easy to manipulate, so I was just hoping I could do that to you."

"Makes enough sense. I've met some who are slaves to that." I paused, then began the true questioning. "Do you plan on doing anything to weaken my control over the swarm?"

"Of course not. Not like I could anyways. A loser who doesn't realize they're beat is annoying. Everyone's gotta submit to something. If they don't they die or are broken." She flicked her tail, shrugging her acceptance of the way of the world.

"Do you feel like having me as an Alpha allows for your general wants to be provided for?"

A sigh. "Well, good enough. I do wish you'd take me at least as a sub-mate, give me that higher position, but I don't think it will happen any time soon. You're too focused on other things." A coy smile. "Unless…?"

I raised my tail again, with a slight smirk this time. Farahlia chuckled, ducked her head, and spoke, "Didn't think so. So, I'm not a threat to your rule. Please…" her voice cracked briefly, "don't kill me. A living loser is better than a dead rebel."

I wasn't sure… but I wasn't so sure anymore about if Farahlia was the forked tongue. Fork.