Chapter Twenty-Three

Callista watches the trees around her, looking for any sign of life. The forest is the calmest she has ever seen. It has been two days since the female coyote left her to make her way through the dark forest. The shadow figure still sends chills down her spine when she thinks about it. The voice sounding so much like her mother, it hurt. Her black dress is ripped and is starting to shred apart. She has been chased by many horrible animals, all wanting her blood.

Her latest opponent was a wolf, a pureblood. It was silver and a huge as a horse. Three diagonal claw marks scrape her shoulder, the only wound she abstained from the fight. It was a test for endurance and stealth, that she passed with a great price. The wound throbs as she jostles her shoulder to hide closer to a tree. She'd woke up this morning with it patched up and a tub of salve beside her. Callista is pretty sure she is just going in circles, and she isn't sure on what is supposed to happen.

A slab of concrete is in the middle of the forest, surrounded by old oaks. Like gnarled arms, they reach for her. Beckoning to her to see what today has in store for her. Chains are attached to the sides, dangling. Dried specks of red sprinkle the concrete and on the chains. Whatever happened here, happened a while ago. The trees stood tall and proud, like warriors. In a way of the supernatural, they were.

The oak trees are a barrier of protection. You plant them around a city or village, and they will link up to form an invisible barrier of protection. Callista faintly remembers the schooling lessons from when she was little. The young face of her brother still exists, but she knew the male has changed. From her brother to the king of werewolves. The task must've been grueling, keeping his people at bay to not fight a war he could not win against the Vampi Kingdom. But he knew the risks of accepting an alliance, for he thought her dead and gone like their parents.

Callista must get through this forest, to her brother and what lays with him. The Warrior Princess isn't something that her line would be proud of her to walk away from. Her mother, the Warrior Princess before, noticed the moment she was born. Her mother grew serious and took her training very quickly.

Her training consisted of hunting, socializing, and ripping open portals. The magic came from the Warrior Flame that resides in an obsidian sword. She seen it about three times in all of her childhood. Callista knew how to handle a blade, but a demon blade forged by the king himself was one she has been preparing for. Only a demon blade crafted in the realms of hell can send the demon back to its homeland.

The sword is missing from the slight edge in Philip's voice when she said it's what she needed. A part of what she needs. These tests and training she is going through, is to help her in the oncoming weeks.

The forest before her bends a little, before a flash of light scatters her sight. On the slab of concrete lies a body. A slim body packed with muscles. His face is lined with age, but his mouth is open in a scream as his silver eyes fall to her. The same silver that rings the iris in her own eyes.

Her father is chained to the concrete, the blood on his arms and torso, dripping on to the smooth surface. Agony lines in his face and his arms twitch as if trying to reach for her. A choked sob lodges in her throat. A dark figure moves, and the light of the sun reveals its face. The creature had no eyes and its mouth is sewn shut. Blood drips from the puncture holes that led her to believe that they are recent. A long, stone club hangs in his left hand as he circles her father's beaten body.

Looking at the patterns of his wounds, the jumble of bruises and cuts that litter his whole body. The creature's nostrils flare and his head whips to her, standing close beside a tree. Her scent mingles with the wind and he caught it, his eyes taking in her spot by the tree. Panic floods her and she crawls closer to the tree. A cruel, inhuman smile twists his face, blood dripping down his chin as he reaches forward, plucks her from the ground like she is a flower.

She gasps in terror and his hand tightens around her. He pulls her close, his ugly face an inch from her. His breathe huffs and a wave of hot sewer smell surrounds her. She gags, but the creature's smile just widens, and he bounds over to her father's motionless body.

Blood drips from his ears, his lips and his eyes. She goes limp in the monster's grip, her fight gone. A small voice in the back of her mind urged her to fight, but the broken and bleeding body of her father, took every ounce of will from her. He lays her by the slab and yanks chains from the ground. Her heart thumps wildly in her chest, her fight instinct screaming at her as the hulking creatures leans over her.

Swearing, she launches herself up, pain throbbing through her side. The creature snarls at her, blood gushing over his chin. His eyes are wild with violence and hunger. She looks desperately where the body of her father lays, but it was empty. Her heartbeat rushes to her ears and she scrambles away from the slab of concrete. The creature lets out a rough laugh as he sits back on his heels. His long hair gleams in the forest, red like blood.

"You ever wondered what the King did to your father?" the creature spoke, its lips barely moving. "He tortured him in this forest, trying to get details about you. So, being a Warrior Princess isn't everything when it puts those in danger."

The creature disappears, along with her father's body and the concrete. Her breaths came out shallow and harsh in the silent forest, her body trembling. Goosebumps litter her skin as she finds her footing, hugging herself as the events roll through her mind.

Her father wasn't just murdered, but tortured. Callista could bet her life it was about her, and who the Warrior Princess was. The forest seems to lighten as her mod drops, its darkness leeching into her. In front of her, the trees seem to part. A small dirt path is seen going deeper into the forest. Fury dances across her skin as she passes the opening. Her mind racing as the possibilities of what lays ahead.

Callista runs her hand down her black dress, the magic in the realm keeping it from tearing. The sky above her is dark and a little silver light of the moon. She raises her eyes to look for a piece of it and a smile crept onto her face. The moon is sacred to the werewolves, like in all the legends she hears about it in the mortal realm.

Though, they can transformed anytime they felt like it, but the moon is the symbol of their goddess, the Mother Luna of the wolves. The moon's light is a blessing from the goddess, shining down on the ones that need it. Those who need to find their mates, or big heroes. Callista frowns as something occurs to her. Shaking her head, she walks on, hoping to come across the last test so she can find her brother.

The path is long, and the deeper she goes, the older the trees get. The grass seems to lose color the further she got. Her ears pop as the atmosphere thickens. A gust of cold air hits Callista and her hair whips around. Her black dress snags on a branch. She curses and tries to tug it off, but the fabric rips and she frowns.

After her fight with the pureblood wolf, her dress stitched back together on its own. Now, Callista watches as the limb scratches her thigh, a thin line of blood blossoming. Gritting her teeth, she pulls the dress free and steps over the cluster of branches. The forest thins, opening to a clearing, where trees meet field. Letting out a sigh of relief, she rushes forward, only to collide with a solid wall.

"What?" she mutters softly, her hand grazing the wall.

You haven't passed all of the tests. A soothing voice echoes her head. You have not faced the first trial. The one with your mother. A scruff of the paw hit the earth and whirls around to face the coyote.

"M…my mother?" she stutters, her mind running through the trials she raced through. Then the shadowy figure came to mind. She stumbles back a bit, her heart in her throat. Her mind races back to the lessons her father pounded into her before she was kidnapped.

Her father talked about these men who faded into the worst parts of themselves. They fade into the darkness within, and their mortal-self fades completely, leaving them a black figure in the realm. The Stygians. Her eyes snap to the coyote, tears spilling down her cheeks. A person with enough demon power can force someone through the transformation.

"The Vampire King forced her, didn't he?" Callista murmurs.

The coyote tilts her head. Yes. Three days after your father was tortured, the king forced your mother through the transformation. It causes incredible pain to those who are pure, and to force them to such hell, breaks their soul. Your mother kept enough of her good to pass you a message, floating around this forest for fifteen years to talk to you one last time.

Callista shakes her head, the number of years echoing her head. "Fifteen years?"

The silver coyote sits, her eyes narrowing slightly. Yes.

"No. I am eighteen, it has only been ten years since that night."

No. It has been fifteen. Time moves more slowly in the mortal realm, which is why mortals live longer. You are twenty-three in this realm, rightful Princess to the Royal Werewolves.

Callista shakes her head. "I am twenty-three?" The coyote gives her a tilt of the head in confirmation. The truth settling within her. "My brother is thirty-nine, so he is married to his betrothed from when he was twenty-four."

The coyote gives her a wide grin of razor-sharp teeth. Ready to set forth to him? You will not meet him for another couple of weeks. You will meet someone very important when you leave this forest.

She nods, her eyes drifting behind her to stare at the solid clear wall. "I am ready."

The coyote bows her head, her eyes closing. A few movements caught Callista's attention, and tiny bodies scurries out from under the bushes. Sapphire eyes flicker to her, surprise glitters their eyes. The coyote nuzzles one of the puppies and opens her eyes. Then you have my blessing to continue your journey, Callista Shawcross.

The invisible wall behind her cracks and shatters like glass. It rains at her feet and the baby coyotes scramble back to the under-bush where they hid. Behind the wall, is a small clearing. A small wooden cabin stood in the middle, large clumps of smoke escaping the chimney. The door opens and a young, dark skinned girl steps out, a basket dangling from her fingers. She wears a white trailing dress, that floats around her. Her dark brown hair falls in curves to her waist. Her violet eyes flicker up and catch them staring, coming to a stop an inch from her cottage. Her mouth pops open as she recognizes the mother coyote.

"It is time?" her voice is soothing, like gentle water.

The mother coyote bows her head, turning around and disappears in the forest. Callista watches the female, her eyes taking in as much detail as possible. The young girl puts the basket down and inclines her head in greeting.

A field spreads far, circling her cottage. High grass goes up to their waist. A little further, Callista can hear a small river, flowing to one end. The female beckons her closer, a small smile resting on her face.

"You may call me Dismo," she introduces herself as Callista moves, "I am a spirit nymph, on who guides lost heroes. I have been ready for your appearance for a while."

Callista raises her chin. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting."

Dismo raises her eyes to meet hers. "You have no control of that. The King has made it known that whoever is the Warrior Princess, cannot be taught or trained. The demon you are put up against is stronger than you."

"Being the King of all Demons, and I am just a werewolf, I figured it wasn't going to be easy."

Dismo smiles blandly. "Training is going to happen while you are here." The young girl walks to her, a bounce in her step. Her teeth glint white as a bright smile made its way.

"But first, I need to ask a few questions. To get a feel on what you know."

She inclines her head. "What kind of questions?"

Dismo gestures to her to follow, turning to her cottage. The wooden house spans out into a bigger house. The nymph sends her a secretive smile and waves her hand, the front door creaking open. Callista steps toward the door, hesitant. The female enters, not looking over her shoulder as she disappears. Not trying to overthink, she enters as well.

The moment she enters, warmth and a friendly vibe surrounds her. A fire roars in a hearth at the center, by the kitchen door. A dark green couch lays in front, a fluffy white rug splays out before it. Dismo peeks around the corner, raising an eyebrow at her. The doorway has string of beads forming a door. The beads rattle as the nymph disappears once again. Paintings of various landscapes decorate her home.

A specific one caught her eyes and she moves toward it. The painting is very bright colors, surrounding a palace surrounded by woods. A silver sign hangs at the entrance, but Callista could say it without seeing it. Royal Were Palace.

"I was born there." She says, her eyes taking in the details of the painting. Everything is correct from her memory.

"Yes," Dismo's voice came from behind her, "just like every royal. Your mother and father, as well as your grandparents."

"Yes, I know that. Some palaces barely hold the history of so many generations. My grandparents met at the palace as did my parents. All of them were born there. All mates." Callista states, as if memorizing from a textbook.

Dismo hands her a cup of stew, a glass of water already sets on the table. She sits on the crouch, with her legs under her. The female takes a sip of her stew, an eye on Callista. She takes a sip as well, surprise exploding as the taste and spices melt her tongue. She hums and takes another gulp.

"You might as well get comfortable. You are going to be here for a while." Dismo says, pointing at the loveseat beside the fireplace.

Callista sits, bringing the saucer up to her lips again. "What kind of training am I to go through?"

"The basics at first, to get a feeling of where you left off," the nymph says, "But my questions are severe. I need you to remember as much as you can of the training you received by your mother."

Callista watches Dismo, over the rim of her bowl. "Not much. Honestly, the training took place a few months before I was kidnapped by the King. I remember more of what had happened in the dungeon at the Vampi Kingdom, than what had happened with my parents. I remember she was teaching me the magic of opening a portal and closing it."

Dismo sat up, her violet eyes wide. "That is all you remember?"

"Vaguely."

Dismo curses. "The Portal closing is the last step of training. In a few months, you had almost completed the training. It is like they wanted you to be ready early."

"But why? I was eight!" Callista snaps.

"But powerful," the nymph amends, "It was stopped, and then dragged on for fifteen years. Long enough for you to forget training."