The prophecy came to Maren for the third time on the first night of December, 1726.
Three times she had jolted awake in the hour before dawn, her hands fisted in her blankets, the vision burning behind her eyes like a coal that refused to go cold.
It was always the same.
Snow. A bloodied battlefield. A sword through the Alpha's heart by the hands of someone he trusted.
The Alpha of the Red Moon Pack was going to die in two days.
Three times, Maren had warned Alpha Zephyr Snow. Each time he had ignored and dismissed her. But with the day of his death drawing closer, the pack witch's visions had grown more frequent and urgent, as it always did before death came knocking.
It had only been two days since her last warning, and he had laughed at her and called her a paranoid, old woman.
Zephyr Snow had never listened to a warning in his life. Not from Maren, not from her commanders, not from the Goddess herself, as far as Maren could tell. He was thirty-one years old, he commanded the largest wolf pack in the northern territories, and he had survived every battle, every ambush, and every assassination attempt with the kind of infuriating ease that made lesser men furious and greater men nervous. He had started to believe he was unkillable.
But it was that same type of pride that killed great men.
Zephyr was bent over his battle maps a little after midnight, barking orders at men who were twice his age with little patience when she appeared in his study.
"Leave us," she said.
The commanders scattered, having always found the Pack's witch a little scary and unsettling. But of course, they were. She had been reading the futures of men long before any of them had been born.
Zephyr didn't look up from the map. "If this is about the prophecy again–"
"You will die tomorrow night."
That made Zephyr look up.
He studied her for a moment with those silver, unreadable eyes. The same eyes she had looked into the night his mother died, when he was only seven years old and small enough that she could carry him, screaming, away from the body. The same eyes she had watched harden, year by year, into something that most people mixed up for cold ruthlessness. But Maren knew better.
"I've heard this before," Zephyr said dismissively.
"And you didn't listen."
"And yet here I stand." He spread his hands. "Still alive. Your point?"
Maren crossed the room and glanced up at him. Zephyr was a tall, large man. The brute is gone. But Maren would always see him as a child. "Someone will betray you. When the bright star shoots across the skies, marking the hour Solstice begins, you will be stabbed in the heart and die in the center of Kane's eastern flank."
Zephyr arched his brow. "If I retreated from battle every time you predicted my death, I would not have made it past twenty. Whoever it is, I'll see them coming. I always do."
"You won't see this one," she hissed. "That is precisely what makes it the one that kills you."
He turned his back on her, returning his attention to the map. "Goodnight, Maren."
Maren left the room. She went to her cabinet. She took out the potion she had prepared when the first vision came. She had always known he would never listen. Zephyr's obstinance was both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.
She had told herself she would only use it if she had no other choice.
She was out of choices.
***
The eve before battle was always one filled with merriment and squalor.
And so, it wasn't at all difficult for Maren to poison Alpha Zephyr's wine.
She stood at the edge of the hall and watched him drink with his men who loved and admired him. Sorrow filled her heart at what she was about to do, but it was the only way to save his life.
A few minutes was all that was needed for the potion to kick in, and Maren approached Zephyr then.
"Walk with me," she told him. "I must gather some herbs for the poultices. We will need them for the injured tomorrow."
Zephyr's nod was slow and he shook his head, groaning. "I shouldn't have drunk so much. Very well, Maren. I suppose I do need some air."
Trusting, Zephyr followed Maren out of his manor. He followed her up the slippery paths that led to the forbidden caves that had once been the temple where his ancestors had worshiped gods and goddesses.
His movements grew sluggish and his vision doubled. Still, he knew enough of the terrain to say, "This isn't the way to the gardens, Maren."
Even his words were slurred.
Maren only replied, "We're almost there."
Upon reaching the cave's entrance, the full force of the poison struck Zephyr and he stumbled, breathing hoarsely. His silver eyes were large and confused. "I… what have you done, Ma?"
He only ever called her Ma when he was vulnerable. Ma. Mama. Mother.
And she would be just that for him tonight. If only for the last time.
Maren pushed Draven and he fell into the sarcophagus. "Don't do this," he slurred, lashes fluttering shut. "My men ride at dawn. Without me, they die. Without me, Foster will kill them all. Without me, the alliance ends. The Snow bloodline ends."
The witch slit her palm, drawing a circle of blood over his sweaty forehead. "It is a necessary sacrifice for a better future. This is not your death, Zephyr. You will merely sleep, deeply, until someone comes who can wake you."
She drew her blood over his heart, whispering prayers to the goddess. And then, she took a knife and held it over his heart. "When you wake up, the world will be different. But everything you were supposed to have will still be waiting. I promise."
Zephyr could no longer feel his limbs, nor could he keep his eyes open. "You… doom us all… to death. I… will never… forgive you for this."
Maren smiled sadly. "I know."
And she plunged the dagger into his heart.
Bright light erupted from his body, filling the cave and it formed a spear that went straight to the moon. Maren staggered away from his body, shielding her eyes, and for a moment, a red shadow fell over the moon.
And Maren heard the Goddess.
"Three conditions will be met before the Alpha awakens.
First: It will be the night of the Lunar eclipse.
Second: He will come in contact with the blood of a virgin girl from your bloodline.
Third: She will breathe life into him. The only way he ever returns is through the ultimate sacrifice of love."
The Goddess sounded amused and she lingered a moment longer before her presence vanished entirely from the cave.
When the light dimmed, Maren saw that Zephyr's skin was pale and he wasn't breathing. But the dagger and the wound were gone.
And so, Maren covered the sarcophagus, hiding his body.
She cast one last look at Zephyr before leaving. She had to prepare.
She had the conditions to set.
And somewhere in the long dark future, she had a girl to trust to be insane enough to wake a sleeping dragon.