Peter’s POV

Everything happens in a blur of movements.

There’s the cheering, fanged smiles and raised fists. There’s his dark brown eyes glued to mine, and our bodies drifting further apart as I’m led away, and the look on his face and the warmth in my chest until our stare is finally broken.

Then it’s like the world slams back into focus and it’s all I can do to keep moving within it as I try to follow everything that feels as though it’s happening all at once.

There are celebrations everywhere. Not the type to shake the castle the way Papa’s did the pack when he saw a need for it, but it is still vivid enough for me to feel everyone’s excitement, even after all the cheers die down.

I feel it, in my bones and beneath my feet— their intensity. It’s like an undercurrent that moves under the ice, this invisible surge of exhilaration that has been there all along, but that I am only now able to feel because I am, somehow, unbelievably, the root of it.

It travels the path I walk as Maeve leads me from the tunnels and back into the depths of their abode, the current, their secret heartbeat, and it grows stronger with each clan member I pass.

Words are said, but they must travel through some forcefield, because I can’t decipher them within my buzzing head. I think they’re pleasant, or at least hope so, because they’re all looking at me— all trying to catch my gaze as if they want me to know that they see me, or saw what I’d done. What I could still barely believe that I had done.

I try my best to avoid them despite the lack of animosity in the air and the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I’m not that brave yet, and I’m still scared about what’s to come next, but for the ones I do meet accidentally, or by some skilled scheme of theirs, their eyes are filled with muted fascination.

My heart beats faster each time I spot it, and I have to squeeze my cuff tighter to keep from reacting, when reacting promises to be a squeal or way-too-big smile. I did not think they would punish me for it, but with how good I felt right now, I don’t want to risk anything taking it away.

I completed the First Trial.

I… did it.

Me. On my own. I was an omega, ‘the omega of all omegas,’ and I’d still done it. I’d done it, and they all knew it.

Even him.

A small sound escapes me, just bubbles up and flies out without permission before I can slap my hand over my lips. Maeve falters ahead of me, her steps stuttering before she very slowly turns to look at me.

I’ve never seen this look on her face before. I’d call it terrified alarm, but she soon takes it away as she mutely turns back around, and continues on.

I follow behind her, but do not remove my palm from over my mouth.

She, surprisingly, leads me right back to where I started, to the door to my rooms that she opens and waits for me to enter. I hesitate.

Was there nothing else? Between the Rites and the stomping-thing before the Trial, I had been preparing myself for some kind of ceremony or ritual, or even a ’Peter Calderon-Heil, you have passed your first Trial’.

They love saying our name in full — Joseph bemuses and I laugh a little on the inside.

They did, but there was no one here now, and there was no ceremony, and no… him.

“Is there to be a problem?” Maeve asks, making me jump. I’d forgotten she was even there.

“N-No,” I shake my head, stepping forward. I hesitate again, looking around at the empty halls outside my room before I finally enter.

When I turn, Maeve already has her hand on the door to close it, but she hesitates. She stares at me, dark, black eyes like a hawk’s. Something’s annoying her, or confusing her. I can smell the discomfort in her scent, which seems insane to imagine for a woman who looked like nothing could trouble her, but it’s there.

I wait, ready for her to unleash, but she just straightens and says, “Atieno will bring your meal,” and then she is gone as swiftly as always.

I stare after her, waiting for my usual disappointment or sadness, but today, I can still feel the clan’s heartbeat, and my own adrenaline racing through my veins, and now that I am alone?

I scramble into my bathroom, stripping as I go. I get into the shower, under the warm spray, and then, and only then, do I let it all come out.

I scream. I scream like I’ve never screamed before, and not from fear, but pure joy. I scream and jump up and down, grinning from ear to ear as I hug myself just to know this is real, and not some wicked dream.

We did it! — I say to Joseph, still screaming, still in disbelief, even as I say it. Joseph, we did it!

You did it! You did everything, I-I just—

Joseph — I say, cutting him off — WE did it. You and me, together.

Joseph falters for a moment, but only the one before giddy excitement gets the best of him too, and he’s making his own yips as he goes crazy in my mind. WE DID IT! AHHH, Peter— we did it!!!

I knowwww!

We scream together, too busy celebrating to worry about someone hearing us, or anything else. We just let ourselves have this.

I hadn’t let myself think about failing the Trials, any of them, let alone the first— not until it was happening and I was staring at Luciel, living in the fear of losing him, but then he’d given me that gentle push, set me off, and we’d done it.

I needed the push, but still, I had done it— had braved the tunnels and the surface and the ocean too, and at the end of it, he’d been there looking at me like—

I scream again, louder this time, and I don’t even care.

So far, I’d witnessed three expressions from Luciel, max— indifference, confusion, and frustration. Indifference I got the most, followed by confusion, and worst of all, frustration, mostly because of something I did or said that didn’t go with his plans, but today… there’d been two more.

There’d been the look he’d given me right before he told me to go. The quiet understanding— the encouragement— and then, the one at the end of it.

The marvel.

Maybe he thought I couldn’t do it, hoped for it even, though I don’t think he would’ve been so amazed at the end if he did, but it didn’t really matter what he felt before because I knew in that moment, when he looked at me and saw what I’d done— what I’d accomplished— he’d been shocked and impressed.

The screaming starts again, and I don’t try to stop it.

──────────✧──────────

I’ve only just finished getting dressed again when a knock comes at the door. I know instantly it’s not Maeve’s, and not just because she warned me beforehand— which was maybe her being nice now that I thought about it. But I’d gotten used to, if not learned her harsh and rapid rap. This is something gentler, but no less sturdy, and I knew this one too.

Atieno is already walking away when I open the door.

“Come on,” he calls over his shoulder, “the food will get cold if we dally.”

It takes me too long to follow, too long for my lagging brain to catch up and get moving, and not because I’m scared, but because so far, I’ve eaten each of my meals in my room, alone. It was lonely and quiet, especially since I’d grown up always eating with others, but I’d gotten over it by reminding myself that vampires drank blood and that wasn’t necessarily my preferred style of communal eating.

I hadn’t even thought about the witches.

Scrambling after the towering warlock, I soon fill the space behind him like I do Maeve, but he slows and shifts aside until we are walking side by side instead.

As subtly as I can, I try to space us just a little. Atieno was familiar, but he was still mostly unknown, and wrong as it was, I preferred being behind people than beside them. It was just safer.

Head down, I try to follow our path or look for something familiar in the corners of the halls, but we’re heading into places I have not yet been, and my heart soon begins to race again.

Was there something else? They said there were days before the next Trial and that I would be the one to call on it, but there could always be something around the corner. Another test before I got to eat?

“Relax, Peter,” Atieno’s cool voice chides softly, and when I risk a glance, he dons a lazy smile. “You just bested your first Trial. If there were any time to relax, it would be now.”

I feel my cheeks burn as I look back down at my feet.

Relax. Relax. Relax. I repeat it to myself over and over, trying to hammer it into my head as I follow him until he leads us into a room I had not yet glimpsed, where warmth crashes over us the second we pass through the open doorway, along with the horde of conversations revealed.

The clamour is a surprise, but the warmth is so welcomed, so perfect, that I forget that entirely as I release a groan. I can’t help it.

It’s like one of their magical coats, but everywhere, and I have to just stand where I am for a moment to soak it in, but when I remember myself and open my eyes, Atieno is looking right at me. My face burns again as I bite into my cheek, but he says nothing as he chuckles and leads the way inside.

It’s not as extravagant as many of the other rooms in this underground fortress so often are. The ceilings are high, but not dauntingly so, or high enough to keep a troll, and the set of tables that take up the room are made from some mismatched pieces of wood, with swirls and intricate carvings that don’t look like they were made with a blade. But most noticeably, the room is teeming with bodies.

Witches and vampires alike, but mostly witches.

They chat and eat, unperturbed by the vampires in their company who drink from red-rimmed cups— the ones I pointedly avoid even peeking at— and despite it being entirely unusual and scary, and a little noisy, a part of me melts because it is kind of familiar.

It’s the chatter in the markets, and the laughter that drifts through the woods before a sunset. It’s people being people, and while I did not do well with large groups as an omega, I was still a wolf, and every wolf loved the warmth that came with the company of others.

“Here,” Atieno whispers as he guides me to a table that is thankfully positioned at the perimeter of the others.

Eyes follow me as I near it, but I keep mine down on my furry boots until they reach the low stools.

Three lie empty, one already filled.

I smell magic and coffee.

“Peter, this is Zawnté,” Atieno introduces swiftly. “Zawnté, you already know to whom you speak.”

I lift my gaze just enough to peek at the warlock staring up at me. I don’t catch his eyes, but I spot his small smile as he turns on his stool.

“The Ghost Wolf,” he greets, raising a hand.

That stops me short. “G-Ghost…?”

“He does not yet know his own legend,” Atieno explains to Zawnté before he pushes his hand away and gestures for me to sit. I falter, not wanting to be rude, but the other warlock is already returning to his half-eaten plate, and maybe it would be more rude to stop him just to try and shake his hand.

I sit instead, filling the seat beside the one Atieno takes, positioning us both on the other side of Zawnté. It leaves us facing the room, but I would much rather avoid their stares, than end up in a ball on the floor because I could feel them, but not see them.

Either way, the others in the room become the least of my worries as Atieno waves a hand and two plates morph into the spaces in front of us. They glimmer as a force field of some sort fades away, leaving only the steaming food beneath.

My stomach turns happily, but I can’t help the way my brows twitch at the big fish sitting in the centre above the potatoes and vegetables. It’s identical to the fish I’ve been eating around for every meal.

“What is the matter?”

I jolt, eyes darting up to shift between the warlocks who’d somehow spoken the question at the same time. It allows me my first real glimpse of Zawnté.

He’s not a muscular man or nearly as imposing as so many of the clan were. In fact, his build was closer to mine, if a little taller and wider. He was lean, and covered in gold jewels that hung from delicately placed piercings, even between some of the thick braids that covered his scalp and ended at his nape.

I look away as my fingers find my own hair, twirling the ends while I work to make myself reply. “N-Nothing,” I manage after a breath, but their attention does not relent, and I already know it won’t. I gather my courage. “I-I… don’t… eat m-meat.”

I hold my breath and wait.

Would it be admonishment first or denial? Shock, indifference? Would they make fun of me? I’d only had to suffer those reactions a few times in my life, since I’d been lucky enough to grow up with possibly the only other wolf who didn’t eat meat, though Dad did have a weakness for salmon— we didn’t count that, apparently. But I did have to face the taunts in my life when I was alone.

Someone dangling my arm and saying I was weak because I wouldn’t eat properly, or asking if I didn’t touch it because I was ‘afraid of dead things too’.

In my experience, only humans responded kindly to an alternative diet, and seeing as humans were the preferred meal for vampires, and these witches lived with vampires, I prepare myself for the worst.

“You should have made that known.” Atieno waves a hand, and my fish plate is replaced with a fresh, steaming plate of potatoes, steaming vegetables and a towering set of creamy mushrooms.

Only sharp breaths slip free when I try to speak, and I have to swallow several times before I can even manage a ‘thank you’, but Atieno hears it and nods, and that is it.

No questions. No taunts. No accusations.

He just starts eating his own meal, leaving me to enjoy mine. I do, eating so quickly that I bite my tongue on the second bite, but manage to hide it. Though maybe not well enough, because Zawnté chuckles lightly before covering it with a cough.

“So, Peter,” he coos when I have recovered, “Ghost Wolf, you just completed your first Trial. How do you feel?”

I frown, wanting to ask about that ‘Ghost Wolf’ thing, but I answer him first. “S-Still in-in shock?”

“I bet,” he chuckles, grinning widely. “You almost let the ocean take you at the end. I thought it would.”

I thought it would too, I almost say, but my mind stalls more on the fact that he knew that. How did he know that?

I peek at him. “Y-You saw?”

“We all saw,” he replies casually, still smiling as if that revelation does not send my heart to the bottom of my stomach. “Atieno projected it.”

I look at Atieno, but he just stares impassively back at me while he continues his quiet munching.

“E-Eh-Everyone?” I hazard, as some new fluttering starts inside of me.

Zawnté nods quickly, and I’m not sure if I feel sick or faint or both, though I’m not sure why. It’s not like I did badly, I think, but… I hadn’t known they were watching. But… they were, and they were cheering at the end, so they must’ve liked what they saw? But, did he?

I clutch my fork a little tighter, reminding myself of the look on his face at the end to help me calm down. It hadn’t been disappointment or anything short of astonishment, which meant I’d impressed him. I impressed my mate.

Warmth pools in my chest, and I breathe a little easier before I risk eating again.

“You did well,” Zawnté praises, and that warmth spreads further, “especially for a werewolf. Though we have never had a werewolf make these attempts, so I can not gauge. In any case, you did well.”

“Th-Thank you,” I mumble and he nods again before he morphs a steaming mug into his palm. I can’t help but stare.

I was used to witnessing witches using magic, but I’d only ever witnessed Aunty Katty and Nikola use theirs with such fluidity. No one here spawned from one of the three legacy bloodlines, and yet, the magic I’d seen so far came without spoken spells or any visible strain.

Were they secretly just as strong, or had they cultivated their own strength down here with the vampires?

“Can I ask you a question?” Zawnté asks, dragging me from my thoughts.

I blink quickly, but nod even as anxiety skitters through me.

“Do you fear mages, too?” He asks, his tone the same level of earnest, even as his question numbs me. “Your stutter is present with us, so I wonder if your fear extends to us, as well as our fanged counterparts.”

My insides chill, fear trickling through me as I look to Atieno, but he stares back at me with the same neutrality as always.

I look down instead, staring at my hands while Joseph squirms with discomfort and my heart begins to beat too loudly. Even so, the pair just stare at me and wait, so there is no other choice but to wrangle the courage to answer it, even with the keen ears positioned all about.

“I-It is n-not… I-I—” I take a breath while I clutch at my own hands. “I-I ha-ha-have had a-a st-stammer. Always.”

Atieno stops chewing, and the room grows noticeably quieter. I want to die.

“What?” Atieno whispers, and I can hear his shock as much as I can scent it.

“S-Speech im-im-impediment,” I force out, even though that is not quite the truth, but it is close enough. “It-It gets worse, wh-wh-when I’m nervous or… sc-scared.”

I suck in a breath when I’m done, needing a break, always needing a break.

For as long as I could remember, I’d had a stammer. It was as true to me as the blonde roots that grew from my head.

It was annoying and frustrating, but it was me. A side effect of my traumatic birth, or maybe the composition of my genes. I don’t know, but me. But then, one day, my parents had sat me down and told me that if I ever wanted to try seeing a doctor about it, that I could.

There was no pressure, and I didn’t have to decide or feel that I had to, they just wanted me to know the option was there, if I wanted it.

I didn’t even know that I could fix it, so my answer, immediately and without thought, was yes.

I saw a doctor, and then a specialist, and a speech therapist too, and that’s when I learned that yes— I did have a speech impediment, but it was not from any brain trauma I suffered when dad was attacked while I was inside of him, or any developmental condition.

I could not speak without stammering because I was anxious, constantly.

Even with family and amongst friends, it seemed as though my nervous system was always dialed to ‘scared’, and that was why I stammered. Which would be treated, I was told, only for all our efforts, it never went away.

It got better. I learned how to cope and breathe through it, how to overwrite my brain to stammer less, but I’d never erased it completely, because I was always just afraid.

The only times I hadn’t spoken with a stammer, I’d been mad, because apparently, anger trumped fear, but I couldn’t be angry all the time even if I wanted to.

Fear was my preset.

“Well, isn’t that just wonderful!” Zawnté breathes with a clap that makes me jolt. “Here we all assumed you were afraid of us, but it is a natural defect. That is much better.”

I feel my heart break, and I don’t know why. I should’ve expected it, the taunting, but it still hurts.

Joseph whines, and I look down to hide the tears that well in my eyes.

“Gods, at times you speak with such mindlessness,” Atieno mutters before a hand stretches across the table. It knocks against it, as though asking for me to look at him. I can’t manage it. “He meant that earnestly, somehow. Though he spoke it foolishly.” I frown, but he is not done. “He meant to say… we were not aware that was the root of your stammering. We thought it to be fear.”

It was, in part, and always, but I stay quiet.

Atieno sighs before trying again. “No one will shame you for a speech impediment, Peter. Baseless fear, to be certain, but not that.”

So we’re in trouble either way — Joseph whines anxiously, and I’m right there with him because I was afraid, of the vampires at least and it was baseless.

Luciel had asked if there was a reason, some old hurt, but there was none, and I could still recall the disappointment on his face when I had admitted as much.

“The subject is discomforting, I see, so here is a better one to amend it,” Atieno offers with another knock to the table. “I am finishing a spell to have a satellite reach here for your cellular alone.”

My head snaps up so quickly my bones crack.

Zawnté winces; I ignore him and the slight ache as I look at Atieno. “R-Really?”

He nods, smiling. “We can not have Maeve running laps simply to make messages send, and as I understand it, we only have so much borrowed time before your family seeks to hear your voice.”

I nod quickly, heart on the verge of bursting just thinking about talking to them again. So far it had been texts, carefully constructed and avoidant, but hearing their voices, and actually speaking to them, would heal me.

“It will be done soon,” he promises before returning to his dinner as though he did not just offer me the world.

“T-Thank you,” I whisper, heart raging with warmth. He peeks up to see it, and I smile. “Thank y-you, s-so much.” Eyes widening, he watches me for only a moment before he nods again and continues eating.

We finish the rest of our meal with little conversation, Zawnté mostly leading the charge, and I listen quietly until my plate is empty and I grow brave enough to let my gaze drift around the rest of the room.

Some have come and gone, but it is still mostly filled and bloated with conversation, all from faces I do not recognise, but I still search them, looking for one in particular.

“You will not find him here.”

I jump, almost sending my fork to the floor when my wrist knocks it. I manage to catch it before it makes any more noise, but my face still burns as I avoid Atieno’s knowing gaze.

“He eats rarely, and when he does, it is not in our company,” he continues while he stares openly at me.

It’s a struggle not to cower, but he’s offered me enough that I can’t help but risk asking for more. “W-Where would he b-be?”

Atieno waits for a moment, as if he’s deciding whether to tell me, but when I meet his gaze again, he does. “He will likely be on the surface this time of day. He’s been there more lately than he has in centuries, I am told.”

My heart beats faster, and some starving, yearning part of me opens itself, wanting so desperately to ask why, and what changed— to search for more, and learn all there is to know of my mate— but I already know that Atieno won’t give anything personal away.

Luciel alone would share such truths. The only problem, Luciel refused to share anything at all.

I look at the door, mind already racing for how I might get up there, or what excuse I can construct for it. Technically, I was not supposed to go up outside of Trials, but surely I could think of something. Especially while Maeve was still missing.

“I will show you the way,” Zawnté offers, drawing my gaze back to his.

“Zawnté,” Atieno scolds, but he is quickly waved off.

“I am allowed to, and I want to get rid of my guilt for how I spoke of the stutter,” he says, his expression shifting into an angry scowl. “This would remedy it, would it not?” He asks that to me and I feel myself turn into a bobblehead. He grins. “Good.”

“And how will you remedy Pylen’s reaction after you ambush him?” Atieno goads, even as Zawnté already rises to his feet and gestures for me to do the same. I do so without hesitation.

“The Ghost Wolf wanted to send a message to his family. Your spell is incomplete, and since Maeve was nowhere to be found after the Trial, I escorted him to the surface, and— ’oh, Pylen. I did not know you were here’.”

Atieno scowls deeply, unimpressed, while I bite back my grin, the very opposite. Zawnté smiles wide enough for the both of us.

———————-

It’s getting hard to keep track of how many of this clan I adore. Like genuinely

Thoughts??????

Thoughts on Peter’s post-Trial reaction??? On his first real happy moment lool?? On his cafeteria experience???

I actually love seeing a more casual side to the clan’s daily life, and I love how we only see it as they choose to expose it to Peter. Like he’s earning more bit by bit and I love it! Also, love what’s to come cause best believe Maeve is never going to leave Atieno alone with Peter again lmfaooo

I can imagine her being like ‘how the fuck did he get to Luciel’ and I also can’t wait for Luciel’s reaction next chapter lmfaooo

That’s all for now! I hope you enjoyed! Remember you can always get sneak peeks of chapters ahead of their release in the Gold Tier on my website and Patreon! 

Patreon.com/tippy446
tippysuniverse.com/extras/

Until next time,

Byeeeeeeee Humanssssssssss