Chapter 5: The Beauty in Darkness

"The wolves knew when it was time to stop looking for what they'd lost, to focus instead on what was yet to come."

~Jodi Picoult

Blake

"Blake, slow down." Emerson pleads desperately. But my feet just keep moving faster. We have been walking across town for ten minutes and I haven't said a word, only one destination in mind. There is this place that Emerson and I go to when we need to vent or just get away from the world. No one knows about it, well except River but even he doesn't come there. It is our haven, our escape from all the constant upheaval of our lives. And right now, I am in desperate need of an escape.

I am tired of keeping all of this pent up inside. Tired of lying to my best friend about who we are, or what we are. I have spent the last two days tearing myself up inside. I haven't eaten and I haven't slept. I haven't even gone to school. My dad has been on the phone non-stop with my psychiatrist because he thinks I'm having another mental break like the one I had after Sam died. But even this couldn't surpass those feelings that I had experienced all those months ago. The crippling shock and sadness I felt when I got the call from his mother. The raw and scratchy feeling my throat had after I had yelled his name over and over again when they zipped up the body bag. The loneliness I felt whispering his name in the dark. The spine chilling ice that coursed through my veins when they lowered his body into the ground. I can't deny that my soul misses him more each day. There was a time in my life when I believed that I wouldn't be able to survive without him; that I couldn't live without him. Well, I'm still here. Is this even living?

Emerson was my rock throughout the entire thing. He was even apprehensive when he started dating River because he wouldn't be able to spend as much time with me like before. But who would I be to stand in the way of his happiness? They clearly love each other even if they haven't said it, and I'm glad he has found someone to make him whole, like I had. Sure, I feel jealous at times but it is always short lived. I want nothing more than to see him happy— he is my best friend. And I was happy. I was so happy. And then it was ripped away from me.

I wasn't myself for a while, and even now I'm not. I know I've changed and Emerson does too. Losing the love of your life changes you, it warps your sense of self. I've wished so many times that it had been me who died. Because there is nothing worse than being the one left behind. Better to be the one to die, I think. At least then you wouldn't have to live on and face the burden of continuing to exist with a piece of your soul gone forever, while the other gets to find some peace in whatever comes after.

If I really am the wolf of mortality, I don't know how I will manage to process that. Because that means death and loss will follow me for the rest of my life and I would rather die than see someone else I care about taken away from me. I was just beginning to feel like myself again and then this happened. So no dad, this isn't a mental break. No, this is a mental breakthrough. Because something tells me that uncovering the truth behind all of this madness is the key to my redemption. The key to finding myself again. To seeing Sam again.

"Okay, we're here." He gestures around at our spot with his arms flailing dramatically for emphasis. We are currently standing at the highest point of the city—a grassy hilltop. It overlooks the entire landscape and you could see so much from here, but at night it is exceptionally breathtaking. I take a moment to appreciate the sights, before I confess to Emerson the ludicrous situation we are in. The lights from the street lamps lining each street, put together with the lights of the signs of shops and on the tops of each house, encase the city in bright gold, illuminating the night. Looking at the city from up here always makes me realize just how big the world truly is and appreciate the balance of it all.

I walk over to edge of the hill and sit down on the soft earth covered in grass, I dangle my feet along the edge and start swinging my feet enjoying the breeze that wafts through my face and hair. I gesture for Emerson to come sit next to me and he does. He turns to his side facing me and crosses his arms across his chest, dangling his right foot along the edge but not swinging it—obviously not in a playful mood. He looks at me but doesn't say anything, expecting me to start the conversation I dragged us all the way here to have.

But I don't—not yet. Because I know there is a great possibility that after I say everything I need to say he might think I'm crazy. Any sane person will think I'm making all of this up. Wolves who need to save the world? Psh, that wouldn't even make for an interesting movie. Or he'll pretend to believe only to go run to my father and tell him I'm having a psychiatric break again. I would never forgive him if he did that. I had spent one month in a ward after what happened and Emerson came to visit me everyday, this of course was before he met River and we were all the other had at that moment. I had hated it there, and had wanted nothing more but to escape. Drugged up on pills, always so sleepy, and feeling all the wrong things.

Or there was the even more terrible thought. What if he did believe me? Believed we were wolves destined to save the world from destruction. What then? All I know is that our friendship won't ever be the same. That's why I want to enjoy these last few minutes of normalcy, and bask in the feeling of being with the person who understands me the most.

I look up to see the stars. Dazzling and twinkling in the night sky, lighting up the darkness. Knowing he isn't going to get me to talk unless I want to, Emerson looks up as well and I observe momentarily as the stars reflect in his eyes, smiling to myself before looking back. I wonder how many there are, and a part of me wants to count each and every one in the sky but there is no time for that, only time to admire the underrated beauty of it all. Without peeling my eyes from the sky I say rather dazedly, "Hey, E?"

He doesn't turn to look at me, his eyes never leaving the sky. His eyebrows crease together in thought before he replied, "Yeah, B?"

"I wonder if the world seems rather lonely from the stars' point of view."

"Huh?" In that tone of voice he always uses when he thinks I'm speaking gibberish, and doesn't have a clue what I'm going on about.

"Well you know, they come during the night to light up the sky while the world, for the most part, is fast asleep. Everything always looks gloomy and dreary without the sun to light up the atmosphere. I wonder what would happen if there was no darkness that needed light to be able to see through it." A world without darkness, a peaceful one, a happy one.

He's silent for a few moments before replying, "But without the darkness you wouldn't be able to see the stars. There's beauty in darkness, you've just got to open your eyes and see it." He said, before slinging his arm around my shoulder and pulling me in to him so I can lean my head on his shoulder. We stay like this for a few moments, before I pull away. Enough stalling, now is the time.

Emerson's eyes scan over my face, and I know he can read my mind right now. "You're ready to talk?" He asks apprehensively, shifting his body so his legs are crossed in front of him and his arms are braced on either side of him. I choose to bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my head on top, getting ready to share what's been taunting me for the past few days. I give a small nod.

I'm glad we chose to stargaze for a bit, because he had managed to calm down from his previously annoyed state that I had found him in an hour ago. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before opening them and saying, "First, I want to know why you've been ignoring me. Are you okay? Is there something I should know about?"

Of course he asks about my well-being first. Because that's just the type of caring person he is. I hate that I caused him so much worry, I didn't realize what my absence would do to him. I instantly feel terrible, I can't even look him in the eye. I release a solemn sigh before playing with my fingers on the top of my knees, a nervous habit that I've picked up these last few months. "No, I'm fine. I just needed to de-stress and process everything after I learned some news." I utter the last couple of words rather quietly but I know he heard them.

He leans forward, more distress clearly radiating off of him. Gosh, he worries about me too much. I love him a lot, but I wish he would realize I'm not just some fragile piece of glass constantly in danger of breaking. "What news?" He asks insistently, wanting to know the answer right away.

Before I tell him what the spirit said, there is something else I need to tell him. Another secret I've been keeping for as long as I can remember, that I've been too scared to share with him because I feared he would think I was crazy. But it is now or never. My palms suddenly felt sweaty and I feel myself becoming light-headed. Will he be angry that I kept it this long? Would he think I deserved to be locked up?

The words start to tumble out before I can stop them. "Emerson, I can see dead people. Or spirits, actually. That's one of the main reasons I'm always at the cemetery. I don't just go to visit his grave, I go to be with some of my...friends." I have never referred to the spirits as my friends. Companions, sure. But friends, never. The truth of the matter is that I feel at peace with them, and their presence fills me with overwhelming bouts of safety, peace, and comfort. I scan his face looking for any signs of disbelief, disgust, or surprise. Perhaps all three. But I see none.

Instead a small chuckle leaves his lips. And then another. And then another. Until he is clutching his stomach and gasping for air as he continues to laugh. I begin to look around uncomfortably, what on Earth could he find so funny right now? Some tears escape his eyes, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand. "Blake, I know." He said, with a calm voice and a small smile.

My heart drops down to my stomach, or at least that's what it feels like as I open my mouth wide with shock, thinking I heard that incorrectly. "W-what did you just say?" I ask, blinking rapidly and finding it hard to breathe properly.

He puts both of his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to focus and look at him. "I've known all along that you can see spirits, what kind of best friend would I be if I didn't?" He waits a moment for that to sink in before continuing. "You've been able to see them since we were kids..." I nod in confirmation, too stunned to form any words. "When we were kids you used to talk with them openly. I had an imaginary friend, remember Oscar? So I thought it was perfectly normal because we were the same. But then I outgrew him, but you hadn't. I didn't think anything of it at first and I always played along, because I thought eventually you would see that it wasn't real."

It was all coming back to me, our childhood. Emerson and I had been friends even then, and I have been able to see the spirits since birth. My parents always thought I was just a curious and bubbly baby when I giggled and looked around in awe when seeing them. I thought back to when E had an imaginary friend, Oscar. After he had stopped talking to him, I began to think there was something weird going on to me. "A couple of months after that I stopped talking to the spirits when they were around because I began to realize I wasn't normal. All of the kids at school never saw what I was seeing, neither did you. I began to feel like there was something wrong with me." I slump my shoulders and I look down at my hands remembering how uncomfortable I felt in my own skin and how out of place I felt. Life was like a group photo, and I was always the awkward person at the end. Ushered in really quickly, never quite belonging.

Just then, Emerson takes my hands in his own. But I refuse to look in his eyes, too ashamed to meet them. Back then, I wondered why Emerson even stood by me when all the kids made fun of me. By being friends with me, his social status in elementary school suffered. No one would talk me, so by affiliation, no one would talk to him either. That changed when he got really into sports, and joined varsity tennis in eight grade.

"There's nothing wrong with you, B. If anything that emo phase you went through in middle school was the real catastrophe." I look up at him, and see a smirk grace his features, before I glare at him and hit him hard. He starts laughing uncontrollably like last time. "R-r-remember you used to wear black eyeliner everyday and you said it was your s-signature look. You had My Chemical Romance songs on repeat all the time..." He chuckles, barely able to get his words out in between his fits of laughter. He clutches his stomach trying to keep it all in. "And you would wear only black clothing and hated going outside because you said the sun was too...bright and happy." I roll my eyes at him before letting a giggle slip past my lips. And then I can't keep it together either. We laugh and laugh until tears are streaming down our cheeks. Just like old times.

After we manage to compose ourselves—which takes a long time. Because every time we thought we were finished one of us would remember why we were laughing, and lose it all over again. Soon enough the atmosphere returns to what it is mere moments ago. "Anyways," he said laugh lines no longer visible. "Your attention is never at one place at a time. And sometimes I notice your eyes trained to one spot at a time like you're observing someone. Your eyes scan places where no one is there. So I put two and two together. There were times, I'll admit, where I thought I should have told your dad but I always decided against it because I wanted you to come to me and be able to trust me with it. You are always at the cemetery, so I came to that conclusion." He finished, running his hand through his hair, searching my eyes for a reaction.

I scrunch my eyebrows in disbelief. "...So you believe me? You don't think I'm crazy?" I don't understand how this could be. Any person would think I was out of my mind. Seeing spirits is unnatural, like some sixth sense crazy shit. Yet, he doesn't think less of me.

"I'll always believe you Blake, no matter what. You've always been there for me, and I've always been there for you. That's just how the world works." He shrugs, and shoots me a small smile, the light from the moon reflecting on to his lip ring. I feel tears threatening to spill from my eyes. So many emotions rush through me. Astonishment. Happiness. A sense of belonging. But most of all love, because he's always had my back and I don't know why I doubted that to begin with. I wrap my arms around around his neck, pulling him into a huge hug. I rest my face on his shoulder before saying, "Thank you." He doesn't say anything, just wraps his arms around me for a few minutes, before pulling back.

"Is that what you had to tell me?" He asks, curiosity clear in his features, yet a big smile still gracing his face.

Just when I was beginning to think everything was going to be okay. Ugh, I totally forgot about this part. You know, the whole wolf thing. I cover my face with both of my hands, all the peace and joy I felt a second ago, being replaced by a heavy cloud of uncertainty. It's now or never. "Remember what happened in the hallway two days ago?" I begin, starting this dreaded conversation.

Clearly not expecting our conversation to take this turn, he clears his throat before speaking. "Yeah, why?" He speaks slowly, as if scared of the response I'd give.

I go back to twiddling my fingers together. "I may have figured out why it happened..." At this he breaks out of his laidback position, sitting up straight, looking straight towards me with wide eyes urging me to continue.

"One of the spirits approached me at the tracks that day right before it happened, hinting at a vision I would have that same night." His eyebrows go up at the word "vision" but he says nothing. Only listens with an expression I can't read. "The voice in my dreams said 'Blake Larson. Wolf of mortality, divination, and necromancy. Go, henceforth, and connect with your pack. Your brothers and sisters, your companions for life. The Creation and your parents are in dire need of your help."' I finish and take a breath, scared to look at Emerson's face. When I look up finally, he doesn't look scared like I was, he looks confused yet intrigued. I decide to just continue, looking back down at the ground.

"I went to the same spirit early in the morning yesterday and she confirmed that my vision was true." I take a deep breath, before looking Emerson in the eyes. His are already on me, looking at me with a dead serious expression. "We're wolves, E. I don't know how, I don't why or if I even fully believe it. But she told me we're not the only ones. There are more of us and we have to find them because without us this world..." I gesture all around me with my pointer finger, moving it around in a circle. "...is a goner. I'm sorry for keeping this from you, I just didn't know how to process all of this. I still don't." I say, whispering the last part—my voice breaking a little. My fear is clearly showing, yet Emerson seems unfazed.

"While I wish you had come to me sooner, I understand why you kept it for so long. But I also need to tell you something. At my game yesterday, I was playing...different."

"Different how?"

"My actions, Blake, they were all so swift. Every time a ball came my way I could pinpoint it's exact position in the air. My eyes were so much more calculated, and my focus was unbreakable. I was moving faster than light, and I hit the balls with superhero strength it was unbelievable. Maybe those were my wolf senses kicking in or something..."

"This is all too much..." I say, tugging at the ends of my air trying to get them to stay down, but also using them as a distraction.

"You said there are others. How do we find them?" He asked.

"Hell if I know. The spirit wasn't specific." I say, thinking back to my memories with her. She came out of nowhere, and now she's become a huge part of my life. That could not be a coincidence.

As if reading my mind, he asks, "Who is she?"

I sigh. "I don't even know, she lied about her name. So how do we know she isn't lying about this?"

"She isn't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I don't know, I just am." He looks me in the eyes, and his eyes look like they gleamed a bright shade of gold for a second, before receding into his green irises. He looks so determined, believing so hard that this is all the truth. "Did she say anything else?"

I release a chuckle from lips, rolling my eyes at the thought of what I forgot. "Yeah but it's stupid."

"What was it?"

"Something about our parents needing help. Our real parents." Both Emerson and I are adopted, it's one of the things that bonded us together straight away when we met. The shared feelings of abandonment and feelings of curiosity about our birth parents. Curiosity that has since then died out. Or so I thought.

He leans closer to me, eyes going wide again. a wide smile appearing on his lips. "Really?"

"E, don't get so excited. That part has to be a lie. And even if it isn't they left us, abandoned us. Mine left me at a frickin' cemetery for goodness sake! We are better off without them."

"They have to be better than the ones I've got now..." He looks down at the ground in anger, fingers balling into fists.

"E..." I say, putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Emerson's adoptive parents haven't been good to him, my dad basically acts as a father figure to Emerson most of the time. They don't accept him for who he is. Who he loves. Which is despicable. I get angry just thinking about it. But I don't show it, one of us has to see reason.

"Let's go to her."

"Who?" I ask, my eyebrows knitting with concern.

"The spirit you talked to. She can't just leave us like this. If what she is saying is true, we need to find the others. Our pack, like you said."

There's something else going on with him I can feel it. "Emerson why are you so determined to believe all of this?" I ask, my voice void of any judgement, only curiosity.

He is silent for a few minutes, before standing up and offering his hand, which I take, to pull me up as well. We brush ourselves off, and for a moment I think he's forgotten the question. But he answers, "Because there has to be more than just this. There has to be." He said, looking all around us at the sky, who's darkness was being lit up by the approaching sun on the horizon. Strangely, I don't feel tired neither does Emerson by the looks of it. He slings his arm across my shoulders bringing me closer to him, before we start walking to the cemetery. Some things never change.

***

We finally reach the den of lost souls after a few minutes. I look around and the place hasn't changed. Tombstones as far as the eye could see, and trees so dead, they match the auras of the people who's bodies are now six feet under. My face doesn't change, but I see Emerson shiver beside me, clearly uncomfortable. I take his hand in mine in an attempt to comfort him, and he gives me a small nod. This time I don't have to call out to her or look for her she just appears. Still in the same summer dress, still with the same bright eyes despite being dead. "You've come to see me again."

Emerson is first to speak, voice a little shaky at first. "Who are you?" I open my mouth in shock, can Emerson see her? How can that be, he doesn't have the same abilities as me. I look down at our intertwined fingers. Maybe I am sharing my powers? There's no way he's been able to seem them this entire time, I would've known. I swear my head will explode soon.

She smiles, a genuine smile. Her face is so friendly, that it is hard to not trust her. "Just an old friend."

Emerson and I look at her and we are both thinking the same thing. We've never seen her before—ever. But he shrugs, signaling there are more important matters at hand. He speaks again more confidently this time, "How do we find the rest of our...pack?" I'm surprised he hasn't asked about our "parents" yet. But I know why he is avoiding it. He doesn't want to shatter his hope just yet.

She looks at me. "Do you still have the coin I gave you?" I nod. "Good. This will help you find your brothers and sisters." I roll my eyes at the terminology, but Emerson just looks on astonished. She smiles at his expression, clearly finding amusement in his reactions. "And you will lead them Emerson."

Now was my turn to speak, since Emerson looks momentarily stunned and confused. "What do you mean?"

She turns to look at him. "Because you are the Alpha."

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Thanks for reading. Please like and comment! What do you think of Blake and Emerson's friendship? Also, how do you think Emerson will react to this new information? Stay golden

:)

~Fallen Rose🥀