A Fate Foretold (formerly: A World Gone Mad)

Extra Scene

            Ally craned her neck to look up the ragged slope of the mountain. Far up, tucked out of sight of any human, she knew there was a grand château. In it, the werewolf world turned on it central axis. It was there that she had been born, that she had grown up until age five and then again as of age ten, that she had trained and studied. The plan had always been that she would die there. Preferably of old age, but there were no certainties in life.

            Was returning to the château tempting fate? No matter if it was, it had to be done. Ally took the least used, most protected, and most difficult path through the mountains, in the hopes of not being seen. When she finally arrived at the castle’s stone foundation, jutting out of the rock, she laid her palm against the cool stone and briefly closed her eyes. She was so close.

            A secret doorway opened despite its rust. She had to stoop to pass through the half-sized door, but the corridor inside opened up to accommodate a standing adult. It hadn’t been used in years, but was warm and dry, evidence of good planning and construction. Very few people knew of the Romolo passageway, built as an extra security precaution for the First Descendents. The passageways ran throughout the château, and Ally followed the dimly lit path onwards and upwards, calling up a map of the château and the secret corridors in her mind, memorized years ago. Voices floated through the vents from the rooms she passed.

            She finally reached her goal, but had to look through several peepholes bored into the walls until she found the one she wanted. It looked into a large room with high ceilings and a long table in the center. An assorted of people were either seated or standing, but there seemed to be a confused hierarchy in the room, with two points of power. One was at the table; the other faced the former, and centered around an old woman in a wheelchair, surrounded by five or six supporters. Ally was shocked to see how Lydia had aged. Her son, Leonard Bubant, stood at her right hand side. Her other son, Ralpheus Bubant, notably stood closer to the other center of power, together with a number of other standing courtiers.

            Ally identified all eight members of the Lycan Council at the table, together with Sir Walter and other distinguished advisors standing nearby, questioning primarily two men who stood before them. The two men, Philippe Grenier and Victor Klein, stood as far apart as they were able, with obviously no love lost between them. Listening in from the secret passageway, Ally stumbled upon the middle of a conversation, but quickly caught up on their subject matter.

            “Perhaps Grenier is mistaken. Perhaps the princess is not alive after all. How could he be certain?” Leonard tried to smoothly coax the Council members into agreement.

            “Of course I’m sure,” Philippe snapped. “If there’s anything that I know in this world, it’s Alianora’s voice.” There was absolutely no doubt in his mind; to this day, the voice he knew best was Alianora’s, and hearing it again had rattled him.

            Ally was surprised to realize her feelings when she saw Philippe again. Seeing him in person was more potent than merely hearing his voice. She truly forgave him, and even felt a warm sense of attachment to him. No longer in love with him, she remembered why she had loved him to begin with. It suddenly occurred to Ally that she was no longer quite as intolerant to human flaws in those close to her. Not everyone had grown up to adhere to impossible values and trained until they became second nature. It was not Philippe’s fault that he could not live up to them, although she had blamed him at the time. Just as it was not Christian’s fault for not understanding.

            “I have to second Grenier’s opinion,” Victor Klein put in. “Much as it pains me. It was unquestionably the princess.”