The Alpha King And His Chosen Luna novel Chapter 200

You are the pot

You are the point

(Isla)

Clawn

Caius pushed his chair back.

“Let’s go,” he said simply.

I was on my feet before he finished the sentence.

He didn’t comment on that. He just picked up the journal and walked toward the door and I followed him out into a morning that felt different from every other morning I could remember. Not because anything had changed out there. Because something had changed in me.

I was starting to understand what I was.

That was new.

That was everything.

Caius didn’t go to the flat stone this time.

He stopped in the center of the clearing and handed me the journal.

I looked at it and then at him.

“Me?” I asked.

“You,” he said.

“I’m choosing the symbol?”

“You’re choosing where we begin today.”

I looked down at the open page in my hands.

That was different from yesterday.

Yesterday he had led.

Γ

Today he was asking me to.

I turned the pages slowly. Not because i didn’t know what I was looking for. Because I wanted to find it the right way, not just stop at the first one that caught my eye.

Three pages in I stopped.

The symbol was different from the first one. More lines. Less space between them. Something about it felt less like an invitation and more like a question.

I looked at Caius.

“This one,” I said.

You are the pott

He looked at the page without reacting.

“Why that one?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “It just felt right.”

He nodded once.

“Then that’s where we start.”

He took the journal from me and studied the symbol for a moment before handing it back.

“Draw it,” he said.

Chair’s

I picked up the stick from where we’d left it yesterday and crouched down. The symbol was more complex than the first one. I took my time with it, copying each line carefully, making sure the spacing looked right before moving on to the next.

When I finished I stood back.

It didn’t look exactly like the one in the journal. Close, but not perfect.

I looked at Caius.

“It’s not the same,” I said.

“No,” he said. “But it doesn’t need to be.”

“Why not?”

“Because the symbol isn’t the point,” he said. “You are.”

I looked at the drawing in the dirt.

That was a different way of thinking about it than I’d expected. Yesterday I’d assumed the precision mattered, that getting every line right was part of what made it work. Now he was telling me it wasn’t.

“Then what does the symbol do?” I asked.

“It gives your gift somewhere to go,” he said. “A direction. The drawing is just the beginning of that.”

I looked at the lines again.

“So it’s more like a door than a key.”

He looked at me. “Yes,” he said. “Exactly that.”

I hadn’t planned to say it that way. It had just arrived, and the fact that it fit made something settle in me.

“Stand inside it,” he said.

I stepped into the center of the symbol.

Nothing happened immediately. I hadn’t expected it to. Yesterday had taught me that waiting was part of it, that the gift didn’t respond to impatience. I stood still and let the morning be what it was around me, the sounds of the territory going about its day somewhere past the trees, the ground under my feet, the air

You are the pent

moving through the clearing.

I stopped thinking about the symbol.

I just stood in it.

Claim

Vaela stirred. Not the slow comfortable stirring of a wolf at rest. Something more alert than that, more focused, the way she got when something had caught her attention and she was deciding what to do with

‘Do you feel that?’ she asked.

‘Feel what?’ I said.

‘The edges,’ she said. ‘The lines you drew. They’re there.’

I frowned slightly. I looked down at my feet and the lines in the dirt, and then I understood what she meant. Not visually. Something else. A faint awareness of where the symbol began and ended, as though the drawing had become something more than marks in the ground.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I feel it.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now don’t move.’

I stayed exactly where I was..

The silver light came faster than yesterday. It started at my hands and moved up my arms before fading back again, quicker than before, like something testing the distance between here and where it came from.

I looked at Caius.

His expression had changed slightly. Not surprise. Something more like recognition.

“It came faster,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because you chose the symbol yourself,” he said. “You brought your own intention to it.”

I looked at my hands.

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