Evaline:
I watched Elion as he signed the last of the files his secretary just brought in.
And there were quite a few of them, each one placed with precision on the coffee table, their edges aligned as if chaos itself was not welco in this office.
Elion's movents were unhurried, graceful in a way that felt effortless, as though authority wasn't sothing he wore but sothing woven into his very bones. When he finally set the pen down, he closed the folder and handed both to Secretary Nile.
The man bowed... first to Elion, then to ... and headed out.
The door closed softly behind him, leaving the office wrapped in a quiet that felt heavier than silence.
Elion's gaze shifted to , assessing without being invasive. He gestured toward the couch opposite him with a simple tilt of his head.
"Please," he said calmly.
I nodded and moved as instructed, sitting down on the plush couch. My spine stayed straight, my hands folding together in my lap as I tried to calm the restless energy thrumming beneath my skin.
I had prepared myself for this mont, rehearsed questions in my mind again and again, but now that I was actually here... my thoughts felt like startled birds fluttering too close to my ribs.
I watched as Elion began preparing tea.
The mont he opened the small tin, faint scent of sothing floral drifted through the air.
"I noticed," he said suddenly, not looking at , "that you always prefer herbal tea."
My eyes widened slightly.
"When given the option," he continued, asuring dried petals into a porcelain teapot, "you avoid coffee, milk tea, and cold drinks. Chamomile in the evenings. Mint during long discussions. Ginger when you are tired but pushing through it."
He glanced at then, one brow lifting faintly. "Consistency like that is rarely accidental."
I blinked. "I-"
"It intrigued ," he added calmly. "So I tried them myself."
That earned a soft, surprised breath from .
"This one," he went on, "is lotus tea. Prepared properly, it calms the mind without dulling it."
He poured the tea into two cups... steam curling gently upward... and carefully placed one on the table in front of .
"Tell what you think."
I hesitated only a second before lifting the cup. The porcelain was warm against my palms. I took a small sip.
The taste blood softly on my tongue... light, floral, almost ethereal. There was a faint sweetness to it, but nothing overwhelming. It felt… grounding.
I nodded without even realizing it. "It's… really good."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I thought you would say that."
Sothing in my chest loosened. The anxious knot I had been holding since he stepped this office eased, just a little. We sat there for a mont, sipping tea in quiet appreciation, the silence no longer oppressive but contemplative.
Only minutes had passed since Elion entered the office, yet it felt longer. Not in a suffocating way, but in the way monts stretch when sothing important is about to be said.
He set his cup down.
"Go on," he said evenly. "Your first question."
I didn't waste the opening.
I straightened, my fingers tightening briefly around my cup before I placed it down as well. I t his gaze head-on.
"What is the secret of our bloodline?" I asked. "The one you keep referring to."
The corner of his mouth curved upward, just slightly. As if he had expected nothing else.
He took another asured sip of his tea before setting the cup aside completely. His posture shifted... not dramatically, but enough that I felt the change.
His eyes grew distant, reflective, as though he was looking far beyond the walls of the headquarters.
"Once," he began, "we were one of the most powerful bloodlines to ever walk this world."
I listened, almost holding my breath.
"According to ancient records," he continued, "the Silver Wolves were rumored to be blessed directly by the Moon Goddess herself. Whether that is myth or truth no longer matters. What matters is that the belief shaped us… and perhaps, shaped destiny as well."
He spoke with reverence, not pride.
"We were known by our silver fur," he went on, "a shade so rare it reflected moonlight like polished steel. It wasn't rely beautiful. It was a mark. A sign that even in the dark, we could not be overlooked."
I could almost picture it... wolves moving through moonlit forests, silver coats glowing softly like living starlight.
"Our strength surpassed others," he said. "Not just physical, but spiritual. Our wolves endured longer, healed faster, and bonded deeper with their human halves."
He paused, then added quietly, "And then there was our gift... given only to a few blessed ones."
I leaned forward slightly without realizing it.
"The power of healing."
The words landed softly… and yet, they echoed in my mind.
Healing?
I stared at him, stunned.
When I finally found my voice, confusion laced every syllable. "Healing? But… there are healers everywhere. Nearly a hundred, at least. It's rare, yes, but not unheard of. And none of them have anything to do with our bloodline."
I shook my head slightly. "Being a healer is special, but not unique in the way you are describing."
Elion didn't interrupt .
He waited until I finished, his expression patient, almost knowing.
Then he nodded.
"That is where you are wrong," he said calmly.
He leaned back slightly, interlacing his fingers. "The healing power of Silver Wolves is not the sa as what other healers possess."
My brows furrowed.
"Other healers," he said, "their power has limits, and it demands ti, balance, and rest."
His eyes locked onto mine.
"Our healing," he said, "was different."
Different?
"It was more powerful," he went on. "Imdiate. Instinctive. Capable of restoring what other healers could only stabilize. Capable of healing any wound, any poison, any illness."
My heart began to pound.
"And most importantly," he said quietly, "it's rare because..."
I swallowed.
His gaze softened, just a fraction, like a man about to speak of sothing long buried and heavy.
"to gain this healing power… its bearer had to sacrifice their wolf."
Reviews
All reviews (0)