TO SATE AN ALPHA'S FURY

Sophie's POV

"This is impossible." I managed to say the words.

I reached for the library shelf. The air smelled of old, rusty papers. I touched a worn-out journal. It tingled. Almost like a heartbeat.

"The Ledger of Satiety." My heart skipped.

My father told me stories of Alpha Alaric, the legendary king. Now I held his personal journal.

He would teach me ancient recipes and speak of Alpha Alaric while we cooked.

I snatched the book. My excitement caused a mistake. I knocked over my open water bottle.

Liquid spread across the historical pages. I could not stop it.

Oh, no! No, no, no. I muttered.

My hands shook. The librarian would expel me or even worse if she get to see this.

I took the book and ran to the restroom. My heart raced. I entered a stall. I grabbed a paper towel. Dabbed the pages.

Please, please. I whisper a plea.

The towel soaked up the water. New words appeared on the last page. They looked like a dark bruise. The ink was messy.

"My love. If these words reach you. Please come back to me."

The words felt heavy in my chest. I whispered them aloud without thinking. Please come back to me.

The lights died. The floor disappeared. I hit the wall of the stall. The air now smelled of pine.

I reached for a door. I found only cold air.

Then everything went black.

The next thing. A rope was pulling my wrists. I opened my eyes and screamed. The wind took my voice.

I hung six feet in the air. A net held me like a fish. I saw shadows moved around me.

A man was walking towards me. He was broad. He was majestic. He was taller than any man I'd since. His hair was dark and smoothly combed.

He looked at me. His eyes had a golden glow. He looked like a king. He also looked like a guy who lives in the woods.

"Pfft." He scoffed.

His voice was rough. "The Moon Goddess sent a human ghost to mock me?"

"I'm not a ghost!" I struggled against the rope. "I'm a person! Let me down right now, or I'm calling the police!"

He looked at me with confusion.

He drew out a metal sword.

"You dress like a demon and smell of strange chemicals. You are the spirit sent to punish me for neglecting the sacred ritual."

"I'm a chef, you crazy person!" I screamed.

A whistling sound cut the air.

Thwip!

A silver arrow flew. It cut the rope and I fell. The man grabbed me before I could gain my balance. His hand locked around my waist.

"Rogue..." He said faintly.

The arrow had hit his shoulder. I could not hold his weight so we fell off a hidden cliff.

The wind stole the air from my chest as we fell into the ocean.

I dug my fingers into the mud of the river bank. I pulled him out of the river. He was heavy. I fought for breath.

He was numb and cold. Blood soaked his garment.

"Great. This is fantastic." I whispered sarcastically.

I took out a small bottle of hand sanitizer from my pocket. It's all I had left. I'd lost my bag at the edge of the cliff.

I poured the gel onto his wound. His eyes opened immediately. He gripped my hand. I felt his warm breath.

"What are you doing, witch!"

"I'm stopping the bleeding!" I responded.

"Look! It's working!"

He looked at the plastic bottle. He looked at the wound.

He looked confused. Like he didn't know what plastic was.

He started at me. Not knowing whether to kill me or thank me.

He stood up. He started walking toward the trees. I followed him. I needed answers.

We walked for miles. I shook from the cold. My shoes ruined.

We found a small hut. He kicked the wooden gate open.

"You don't just kick down the door of a house that isn't yours." I yelled.

"Everything in this kingdom belongs to me." He replied.

"Ha-ha." I let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Very arrogant." I muttered.

A young lady came out of the hut. The moment she saw the man. She dropped to her knees.

Your Majesty! She cried. Her voice trembling. "You're hurt!"

I stared at her. Then at the man.

"Haha." I let out a thin, humourous sound. "This is a joke. Is this a movie? Where are the cameras?"

No one laughed.

The lady looked at me with surprise. The man completely ignored me. He sat on a bench outside the hut.

"Come," the woman urged in a whisper. "Help me fetch water for the King."

I followed her immediately, my head spinning.

The King?

"Why did you call him that?

Why are you all acting strange?

Is this a prank?" I asked all questions at the same time.

The lady stopped and turned to me. Her face dead serious. "He is Alpha Alaric, the King of Blackwood. Everyone knows the King, who are you to speak of him so rudely?"

The name hit me like a punch.

"The Tyrant King?" My mouth became dry.

"Wait. What year is it?"

"Everyone knows it's the year of the sacred moon, the year 1525," she said.

"Why are you acting like you are not from around here". She added.

I could not speak. The bucket fell.

1525. I was five hundred years away from a hot shower, my cell phone, and my life. I was trapped in a history book. Those were the thoughts that flooded my mind.

We went inside. I couldn't cry. My stomach was empty. I had to cook to stay focused.

I found meat and carrots. I found rice and herbs. I started a fire. The smell of the food helped me stay sane.

The man sat outside. He was exhausted.

I spoke with Martha while I prepared the meal. I used the tricks my father taught me. I wanted to bring out the flavor of the wild meat.

I finished cooking. I brought him a bowl.

"Eat," I said, my voice flat. "It's not poisoned."

He gave me a long stare.

"I don't eat food meant for peasants." He whispered.

I rolled my eyes.

"Then you would have to starve." I replied.

Martha and I began to eat. I heard his stomach rumble.

I took a spoonful to his mouth.

"Ahh." I said softly. Signifying he should open his mouth.

He took a cautious bite.

Then he froze.

The hut was quiet. The fire crackled. He looked at the bowl.

A tear dropped from his eye.

"This taste..." His voice broke. "This is my mother's recipe." He said softly.

"How do you have her soul in this bowl?" He demanded.

My heart dropped into my stomach because I hadn't just fed a monster.

I'd reached into his past and I had no idea what that would cost me.

Sophie's POV

Thick air filled the hut. Tension rose. I stared at Alaric. My heart hammered against my ribs.

He looked at the empty bowl. His vulnerability vanished. A wall of cold stone replaced it.

"Who are you?" Alaric whispered. His voice carried a demand.

I backed away.

"I already told you, I'm just a chef. I know nothing about your mother."

I know everything about your mother, my mind screamed. I know she was murdered when you were very young and you really miss her.

Please don't kill me for knowing.

I swallowed hard and kept my mouth shut.

Heavy hooves thundered outside. Armor clanked. Hounds barked. The door flew open.

Five men in silver breastplates entered. Their swords already drawn.

At the sight of Alaric, they dropped to their knees one by one.

"Alpha! The man in front shouted, breathless.

"We thought we had lost you!" the chief guard shouted, his voice thick with relief.

"Alpha! Are you okay?" The third man asked.

"Do I look fine to you?" Alaric said. Standing up slowly.

The man who had trembled over a bowl of food a moment ago was gone as if he never existed.

He straightened to his full height. His presence filling the tiny room until the hut felt too small to contain him.

He didn't look at his men. He looked at me.

"Capture them," Alaric said. His voice flat and devoid of emotion.

For a heartbeat, I thought I'd misheard.

"Wait. What?" I gasped.

He pointed a finger at Martha. She was already trembling at a corner.

"The girl lives on forbidden pack grounds. That is a crime of treason. And this one..."

He looked at me. His eyes trailing over my ruined blazer and messy hair. "This spirit disrespected the King. Chain them."

"Are you serious?" The words came out of my mouth as a guard grabbed my arms. He pulled them behind my back.

"I saved your life!"

"You were literally crying two minutes ago!" I yelled.

Alaric didn't say a word. He walked past me like he didn't hear me.

He intentionally brushed his shoulder against mine. Close enough that the scent of pine washed over me again.

"The ghost is loud," he muttered to his commander without looking back. His eyes fixed on the door.

That was when it hit me.

He wasn't cruel because he doesn't feel anything. He feared the feelings I triggered.

The trek to the palace was long. Mud coated my legs. My muscles felt like lead.

We reached the stone gates of the Blackwood fortress. Guards dragged us into a courtyard. The air smelled of horses and incense.

A woman stood in the center of the courtyard.

She was beautiful in a dangerous way. She wore a deep wine color silk. Gold pins held her dark hair.

As we approached. Her eyes locked onto mine.

This should be Elara. Alaric's concubine. History called her the Viper of the North. My mind whispered.

Alaric, she called. Her voice was musical. Her eyes stayed on me as she rushed to him. She reached for his wounded shoulder.

"The guards said you had been taken by the Moon Ghost." She stated while giving me a stern look.

"Why is it still breathing? Why is it in our home?"

Alaric caught her wrists. He stopped her touch. 'The ghost has skills." He said. "Skills that would be wasted in a grave."

Elara's lips tightened. For just a second, the mask slipped. Jealousy flashed raw and ugly across her face.

She smoothed her expression.

"Skills?" She echoed lightly. "She's a curse. The elders say..."

"I don't care what the elders say," Alaric barked, his voice cracking like thunder.

"She will be given a special residence in the palace. She is mine now. To do with her as I please." He added.

He leaned closer to Elara. His voice dropping very low. "Or are you jealous my love?"

Elara braced herself. She forced a fake laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Jealous? Of a spirit? No one takes what is mine."

She looked back at me.

You are far too beautiful to stay alive, her eyes said. I will make sure you burn.

Take them away. Alaric commanded. He turned his back. I will pass judgment tomorrow.

Elara followed him closely. Holding him tight.

The special residence turned out to be the palace cell.

It was a small room at the back of the palace, with a tiny barred window up high in the wall and heavy iron gate.

The only furniture was a heap of straw and a single iron bucket.

They threw Martha and I inside. The iron gate slammed shut with a finality that made my heart sink.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered. Sliding down the wall. "This is all my fault. I should never have come to your hut."

Martha was quiet for a long time. She sat in the straw. Hugging her knees.

"Don't be sorry," she said softly.

"I've lived in that hut my whole life. She glanced around the cell. Then up at the tiny window. "At least now I've seen the palace."

"You wanted to be here?" I asked surprised.

She nodded slowly. "I'd always dreamt of working in the Royal Kitchens. My mother said that if one can cook for the King, one can change the world."

A small, sad smile touched her lips.

"Silly, right?"

"It's not silly." I said. Thinking of my own father.

"Food is the only thing that actually reaches people. Especially people like him." I added.

We spent the night curled up. To keep each other warm. I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes. I saw Alaric's golden eyes and that single drop of tear.

I wasn't just a chef to him. I was a reminder of something he couldn't escape.

The next morning, the guards returned.

They didn't give us food or water.

They dragged us into the palace hall. The chamber was massive, filled with rows of elderly men in robes; the Council.

Alaric sat on a throne of oak and bone looking every bit the tyrant history has described.

The moment I was brought in. Everyone began to whisper.

"She is the moon ghost..." "See what she is wearing..." "She is a witch..."

I stood in the center of the room. My knees shaking uncomfortably.

Alaric stared at me. His face unreadable.

Elara sat beside him. Her fingers drumming restlessly on the chair's armrest.

An old man with white beard stood up. He spoke for the Council.

"Alpha, the law is clear. Any spirit sent to punish the pack must be returned to the earth. To keep her here is to invite the wrath of the Moon Goddess." He said.

Alaric stood up slowly from the throne.

The room became quiet like a graveyard.

His boots clicking sharply on the stone floor.

He walked straight toward me. Stopped so close that his whole body blocked my view.

He turned to the Chief Guard standing nearby. He held out his hand.

Without a word, the guard took out his sword and placed it in Alaric's palm.

My heart stopped for a second. I saw the steel of the blade flash the light of the morning sun.

The Council demands justice. Alaric roared. And I am a King of my word.

He looked at me.

For a split second. I saw something in his eyes; Regret? Hesitation?

But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He raised the sword high above his head. His muscles tensed.

Martha was crying behind me.

I closed my eyes. I thought of my father. I thought of the library. I thought of cooking butter on low heat.

I waited for the cold bite of the steel.

"For confusing my senses with your food. This is my judgement!" Alaric roared.

The sword came down with a terrifying force.

Sophie's POV

The sword sliced through the air. The sound was a sharp scream.

It signaled my death.

I squeezed my eyes shut. My shoulders bunched toward my ears. I waited for cold metal to hit my skin

I did not think about history. I did not think about time travel. I thought about the smell of the apron my father wore. I realized I would never say goodbye to him.

Clang!

The sound vibrated through my skull. It reached my teeth. My body braced for pain. The pain did not come.

The pressure around my shoulders vanished. I lost my balance. I stumbled forward.

My arms fell to my sides. I opened my eyes slowly. I did not trust the silence.

The hemp ropes lay on the stone floor. Alaric had sliced them clean.

He stood over me with the sword. He did not look at my neck. He looked at my red wrists.

Guilt flashed across his face before it was replaced with that familiar, tyrant mask.

He turned toward the council. His voice echoed through the hall. "The spirit remains and she will no longer be a prisoner."

Murmurs filled the hall. Men whispered to each other.

The elder with the white beard stood up. He gripped his staff. "Alpha! This is madness! To let a demon roam the freely among us..."

"She is no demon," Alaric cut him off. His voice was a dangerous rumble.

He threw the sword to a guard. The metal hit the floor with a loud bang. The whispering stopped.

"She is my Chief Royal Chef." Alaric announced.

I did not understand the words at first.

My voice came out thin. "Your what?"

The Council members stared at me. They looked at me as if I spoke blasphemy.

Alaric stepped into my space. His shadow covered me. He leaned down. His lips were inches from my ear. I smelled his breath. I smelled the meal I had cooked for him.

"Listen, Ghost." he whispered.

"You gave me a taste of a buried past. You claim to be a master."

I nodded quickly.

"You shall prove it." Alaric said.

"You will prepare a meal for me every day. Every dish must be something I have never tasted. If you succeed, you live. If you give me a taste I already know, you will pay a high price."

He locked his golden eyes on mine. My heart pounded.

"The sword will not miss your neck twice." He added.

My mouth was dry. I swallowed hard. I had no luxury of hesitation. This was not mercy. This was a slow execution. He was betting my life against the limits of my memory.

"Is that clear?" He demanded.

I looked at the Council. I looked at Elara. She rose from her seat. Her face was calm but her eyes burned with hate. She walked out through a side door without looking back.

Alaric ignored her.

Take her to the Royal kitchen, Alaric commanded his Beta. His name was Cassian.

The man inclined his head. "As you command, Alpha."

Release the girl from the hut, Alaric added. If the Ghost is to cook, she will need an assistant.

Cassian led me through stone corridors. He did not treat me like a prisoner. He did not treat me like a guest either.

My wrists burned. My hands remained steady.

Cassian exchange a look with the Chief Guard.

He likes her, Cassian whispered.

He thought I could not hear him.

She is not trembling anymore. She's calculating.

"She's a ghost, Cassian," the guard replied gruffly. "The Alpha is playing with fire."

"She's no ghost," Cassian said, his voice quiet but firm. "She's exactly what she said; a girl from a place we don't understand." He said firmly.

"And if she keeps cooking like she did in that hut, Lady Elara is going to find her bed very cold. I'd rather have a girl from the future as our Luna than a viper." He added.

The word Luna chilled me. They saw me as a pawn. I did not want a crown. I did not want power. I wanted my phone. I wanted my kitchen. I wanted my old life.

We reached the kitchen. Martha was there. She hovered by the central table. She looked nervous. Her face lit up when she saw me.

Her joy was cut short. A woman entered the kitchen. Her footsteps were heavy and regal. Two guards followed her. Elara followed her too.

The woman was old. Her skin was stretched thin across her face. My mind identified her. She was the Grand Queen Mother.

So, the woman said. This is the creature that confused my grandson with tricks.

I straightened my back. I hid my shaking hands.

"I'm just a chef, Your Grace." I responded with respect.

A chef? the Grand Queen Mother mocked. We do not rely on tricks in Blackwood. We rely on tradition. Elara says you are a danger to this pack.

I looked at Elara. She stood behind the Queen Mother. A faint, victorious smile playing on her lips. She had clearly been busy while I was being moved.

"I have decided to test your worth," the Queen Mother said.

"Since you are so confident in your skills, you will participate in a Trial of Skill. You will compete against the finest royal chefs of this dynasty. If you win, perhaps you are truly meant to be here."

She stepped closer. Her cane clicked on the stone. She grabbed my wrist. She inspected my palm like an object.

"But if you lose," she whispered, her eyes boring into mine, "the hands that dared to play tricks on the Alpha King will be cut off. You will leave this palace, but you will never hold a knife again."

She released me abruptly.

Elara lingered for a second. The Grand Queen stormed out. Elara's eyes trailing over me with a look of pure resentment.

"Good luck, Ghost," Elara whispered. "I've already picked out the blade they'll use on you."

The kitchen became silent. I looked at my hands. My father had trained these hands. They were my connection to my life.

The King threatened my neck. The grandmother threatened my hands.

Every breath was borrowed time. I looked at the orange flames in the furnace dance like they were mocking me.

I was five hundred years from home, and I was officially fighting for my life.