The Banished Lycans chapter 5 part 3 of 4

After enduring two weeks of torment, I finally was able to sleep. When I woke up. It was as if I had been born blind and suddenly gained the gift of sight, seeing the world for the first time. My body felt remarkably different, every fiber of my being pulsating with newfound strength and vitality. It was as if I had been reborn, transformed into something more powerful and primal. The world around me seemed sharper, more vibrant, and I could sense things that were once beyond my perception. It was a surreal experience, and I knew that I would never be the same again.

Fang cautioned me that the approaching full moon would trigger my complete transformation. At present, some of my abilities lay dormant, waiting to be fully awakened under the moon's radiant glow. The power within me was building, gathering strength with each passing day, and I could feel the surge of energy pulsing through my veins. I knew that when the full moon graced the night sky, I would experience the full extent of my werewolf nature.

I confided in Fang, baring my soul as I expressed my burning desire for vengeance against the men who had inflicted torment upon me and my mother. Philip Alsidny, the man who had committed the heinous act of violating her, was at the forefront of my anger.

Summoning all my strength, I revealed the painful truth: "I am the bastard child conceived through that vile act, a product of rape. If societal norms were upheld," I emphasized, "my true last name would be Alsidny."

Fang listened attentively, his eyes fixed upon me with a mix of understanding and sympathy. He recognized the weight of my words and the anguish that accompanied them. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke softly, his voice laced with empathy, "Your burden is heavy, and the injustice you have endured is unfathomable. But remember, it is not your bloodline that defines you. It is your strength, resilience, and determination to seek justice that truly matter. Your actions can be the catalyst for change, bringing about the retribution you seek."

He spoke again, his voice firm, "I will not stop you, but you must listen." He cautioned me about the risk of exposing The Pack and emphasized the need to keep their existence a secret. Furthermore, he reminded me about the presence of a platoon of Confederate soldiers on my father's plantation. I dismissed his worries with a confident tone, reminding him, "I am just a young runaway slave girl. If they bring me to my father, they may see it as an opportunity for profit."

I smiled at Fang, my effort to exude confidence evident on my face. However, Fang raised his hands in exasperation and rolled his eyes, a trace of annoyance lacing his voice. "So, there's absolutely no changing your mind?" he questioned. I simply shook my head, maintaining my coy smile, unwavering in my determination. Fang, clearly displeased, replied, "If you're truly committed to this, then I will have to impart as much knowledge as possible within the limited time we have."

Time passed slowly as Fang and a few other Pack members took time to train me. With my newfound abilities, I had to essentially learn how to walk again. They explained that as a fledgling, my powers were not yet fully awakened. It came as a shock when, during a training session, I unintentionally inflicted serious harm on a fellow pack member while attempting to throw a punch. The sound of bones breaking echoed through the air, leaving me stunned and filled with remorse.

They took this opportunity to teach me about our healing abilities. It was a valuable advantage, but it could also be used against us if our adversaries were aware of how it works. They explained that in a fight, if an opponent targeted a specific body part and broke it, our healing would kick in rapidly, but if the bone was set in the wrong position, it could lead to complications.

They emphasized the importance of energy management. Our supernatural bodies possessed a wellspring of energy, a gift bestowed by this so-called curse. However, it should not be squandered. Using our abilities required tapping into this energy reserve, and if it became depleted, we would be left weaker than even a mortal. It was crucial to be mindful of our energy levels and use our powers judiciously to avoid such depletion.

I approached the man I had unintentionally injured, my gaze fixed on his injured arm and chest. The woman, who I now recognized as the group's medicine woman, was diligently tending to his wounds. A grimace formed on my face as I observed his forearm, which appeared swollen and twisted, resembling the shape of a contorted snake. Additionally, I couldn't help but notice the dip in his chest where his arm had connected during my strike. I was taken aback by the sheer force I had exerted, causing such damage.

I offered my sincere apology to the man, acknowledging my mistake. Then, turning to the woman, I asked if there was anything I could do to assist her. She glanced at me with understanding and reassured me, "Don't feel too distressed. Accidents are bound to happen during the training of Newbloods and fledglings. You're still learning to control your newfound powers. And yes, your help would be appreciated."

As the time grew close Fang and I Walked back to the plantation, the rest of the pack moved on to another location. As a precaution to Avoid exposure. At least that's what Fang told me. We were not too far from the plantation. I stopped and looked down at the Plantation. My thoughts took on a dark Monstrous nature. They were bloodthirsty and wholesale Slaughter. A relentless desire to kill as many soldiers and masters as possible. I snapped back that's not me.

Fang noticed my distant gaze and called out to me, his voice filled with urgency. "Newblood, snap out of it!" Startled, I quickly refocused my attention and met his gaze. Sensing that something was amiss, he inquired about my thoughts. I shared with him the essence of my inner turmoil, expressing my struggle with the overwhelming presence of the beast within.

Fang nodded, understanding my predicament. "The beast has a mind of its own," he said, his voice carrying a tone of wisdom. "It takes time to adjust and learn how to coexist with it. But remember, you have the power to somewhat tame and control it. You are not at its mercy normally."

Fang shifted uneasily, his expression revealing his discomfort with the plan we had in place. His hesitation was evident as he spoke, "I don't like this all this is unneeded exposure." I rolled my eyes at Fang and went over the plan again.

On the night of the full moon, I was determined to position myself as close to the main house as possible, even if it meant willingly subjecting myself to the brutal punishment of being thrown into the box. I knew the horrors that awaited runaways and the pain I would endure. Despite my healing abilities not yet being fully developed, I was prepared to bear the scars and suffer the consequences in order to accomplish my ultimate goal.

We reached the plantation with just two days left until the full moon. I was clad in torn and ragged garments, intentionally marked with scratches and bite wounds courtesy of Fang. The aim was to create the illusion of a vicious assault. The Subterfuge in place I made my way onto the property.

Upon entering the premises, a walking boss spotted me and peered his mount over, his curiosity piqued. I embraced the role of a vulnerable and defenseless victim, perhaps even overplaying it to some extent.

"Please, I beg you! Something is pursuing me," I pleaded, portraying a sense of fear and desperation. The walking boss dismounted his horse and carefully inspected my deep wounds. "What in the world happened to you?" he inquired, puzzled, as I continued to shed tears. "It was a massive wolf," I responded, weaving my tale with convincing detail.

He pulled me aside, his voice lowering. "Girl, you better not be lying. There ain't no wolves around here," he warned. Pointing towards a couple of men on horseback, he added, "Go get some men and search the woods. There might be a bear lurking nearby." He gestured in the direction I had come from, indicating where the search should take place.

He guided me towards the housing area of the plantation, and as we passed by the remnants of my mother's hut, now reduced to ashes, I managed to hide any emotions that threatened to surface. Once inside, the maids recoiled at the sight of my wounds, particularly the bite mark. I silenced their gasps and whispers with a smile, placing a finger to my lips, understanding that rumors of what is really out there really has been spreading just like Fang said.

As the maids tended to my injuries, the other walking bosses examined the wounds with indifference, paying no mind to my modesty as I was being dressed. One of them questioned me skeptically, "You claim a single wolf did this to you?" Irritated by his doubt, I responded, "Yes, I can count, and yes, it was a wolf."

In a fit of rage, the walking boss slapped me hard across the face, drawing blood from my lip, and threatened me. Anger surged through me, fueled by the power of the werewolf inside. Definitely, I spat in his face, knowing the consequences that awaited me.

He retaliated with a punch, and the other men laughed and the man that punched me told them to take me to the whipping post, one binding me tightly to it. As the walking boss approached me with the whip in hand, I locked eyes with him, unafraid. The full moon loomed only two nights away, and I held onto the knowledge that I would soon break free from these chains and unleash my long-awaited revenge.

To spare the gruesome details, I endured the relentless lashes without so much as a scream, my determination unwavering. It was a necessary sacrifice, a means to an end—being thrown into the unforgiving depths of the hot box. In that suffocating, humid enclosure, trapped in the oppressive heat of a Georgia summer, time became a torturous concept.

The torment, I channeled my focus and resolve, using the solitude to meditate and connect with the primal force coursing through my veins. Each breath, each heartbeat brought me closer to the full moon.

I sat in the pit that was made to suck all the fighting spirit out of its Inhabitants. I sat with my legs crossed naked as the day i was born the wounds on my back and shoulders clothing I just sat and in a meditative state. For lack of better words the thirst for Vengeance the Only subsidence I needed.

That's when Cameron arrived, a gentleman who knew my mother and me. He was shocked to see me back at the plantation. He didn't understand why i came back. “Isabel, why are you here? They wrote you off for dead. Then he got closer. Spoke low and with great superstition. “was it the gray wolf?” I just smiled. The wish for great violence evident in my malicious grin.

With a heavy heart, I asked about my mother. Deep down, I already knew the answer, but I needed confirmation. Cameron's gaze averted, and his voice faltered as he spoke, "They took her away... I'm sorry, but she didn't make it. They made an example of her, Izzy. It was a brutal act... she's as good as dead.

With an element of finality warned him to tell anyone who valued their lives to stay away from the Big House and the damned camp. I would not be able to control my actions fully. anyone who stood in my way will die. My mother's death would not go unpunished. Cameron nodded solemnly before departing to carry out his duties, promising to spread the word as I requested.

Later that day, I was forcibly dragged out of the hole. The overseers did their best to clean me up, though the scars of my ordeal were still visible. They forcefully pushed me to my knees before the plantation master, who looked down upon me with an air of superiority. His voice dripped with arrogance as he spoke, "Your appearance seems familiar, but I do not recall acquiring you." I feigned a friendly demeanor and responded, "I am Henereta's daughter. For a long time, I posed as her son and worked in the fields once I reached the appropriate age."

He glanced at me, his expression devoid of amusement, and sneered, "Ah, the bed warmer I gifted to the soldier's camp, only to be killed for attacking one of them." He scanned me from head to toe and added, "You do bear a striking resemblance to your mother, quite delectable indeed." My anger surged within me, and I spoke my mind without reservation. "Thank you, Father. You and my mother were certainly blessed with good looks to pass on." His face twisted with fury, and he ordered one of his men to deliver a harsh slap across my face. In an attempt to intimidate, he warned, "You better watch that sharp tongue of yours, or I'll cut it out, you damned…" That I would degrade myself, then father a half breed bastard.