Nathaniel was sitting by a table that had been put in the throne room. Did he not have a dining room? The house wasn’t super big, but it was big enough for a dining room. The round table had a white cloth over it and three candle holders on top. A girl came over and lit the candles; the flames started twinkling, and as she lowered the lights with a dimmer, the ambiance started to take form. “Please,” he said and gestured to the chair he pulled out for me.

I walked over and sat down. I didn’t know what i was expecting with this dinner date, but this sure wasn’t it.

The two girls came over and lifted the lids of the dinner plates. At first, I didn’t notice, but then I gasped. My hands rested heavily on the table, and my jaw hit the floor.

I looked up and locked eyes with Nathaniel, who was already watching me in anticipation.

He smiled and lifted his fork.

“Parmesan chicken and buttered pasta. I had them throw in a salad as well, though I know you didn’t ask for it.” Parmesan chicken and buttered pasta. The pasta glistened; it was topped with shredded fresh parmesan, and the chicken was grilled perfectly with a golden crust and drenched in cheese. It even had the basil leaves on top for garnish.

This was exactly what I had pictured when Nathaniel asked me what I wanted to eat, what I was craving, and now here it was. I never said it out loud. How could he have known down to the ‘t’ what it was that I craved?

“How?” Was all I asked. My eyes gawked at the food, his face illuminated by the candles. Everyone else had left; the doors were closed and the only sound that came was from the flame whipping around in little circles.

“You showed me.” It sounded so simple. Nathaniel had started cutting into his chicken; he piled on the salad and the pasta on his plate and dug in.

I was still in shock, too much for my hands to be able to work.

Clara, what is happening?

’I have no idea,’ her voice was just a whisper.

“How did I show you?” I was trying to get him to tell what actually happened, but he was keeping the mystery and suspense locked and loaded. The shock I felt was turning into agitation, and the sooner I found out the true motive for this, the sooner I could move past it. There had to be a logical answer. Maybe Justin told him we’d made this together and that I had loved it. Parmesan chicken had always been one of my favorite meals, so that had to be it; he’d found that out somehow, and that’s why he made it.

“When I asked you what you craved, you showed me. Instead of telling me with words, you painted the picture in your mind and you sent it over to me. You see, you have this extraordinary power, one that nobody else has.” My heart was racing in my chest, and it was getting harder to keep my calm. “You can not only manipulate memories and plant them in inanimate objects. You have the power to project your wants and wishes onto other people. Whatever you want them to see, they will see, and it will be near impossible for them not to make it reality.” My mind was blank, and my eyes were widely staring at his face without any comprehension of what he was saying. I heard the words, but they just sounded like noise and everything he said seemed to stop in the outside sphere; they didn’t enter my memory. It was too crazy; it sounded like magic, was he saying that I’m a witch?

“Layla?” His head leaned to the side, and he raised his hand as he tried to get my attention. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, and I shook my head.

“No,” I cleared my throat and pulled my hands down to rest on my thighs. I bit down on my lip and looked up with a questioning gaze.

“Are you saying I’m a witch?” I asked, and he smiled. A slight chuckle slipped from him and his chest rumbled from the laugh.

“No, not at all. You’re an Emberclaw.”

“Right, but no other Emberclaw werewolf has this specific power?” He shook his head to my question.

“So how come I do?” He was cutting into his chicken; the knife stopped just as it penetrated the flesh, and he slowly put them down. I hadn’t even begun to touch my food, and to be honest, I wasn’t feeling very hungry anymore.

Nathaniel dried his mouth with the napkin and then looked at me with a smoldering gaze.“Let me show you something. Wait here,” he walked out of the room, and the door softly closed behind him.

Should I run?

’Where? All the doors are locked, and he has the serving-nuns on the other side ready to tackle you to the ground.’

They may be many things but they are not nuns.

I was looking toward the window thinking that maybe I could jump out of there and make a run for it. It was, however, the middle of the day and if I pulled away the heavy curtains I had no doubt in my mind that I would see people outside. The door slowly opened up and Nathaniel stepped in. The girl on the other side closed it and I heard the lock being turned.

He walked back to the table with a roll in his hands.

“What is that?”

“This is our history,” he said and unrolled it.

He moved away the plates and made room for the scripture. The more it opened up, the more I could see what It resembled. It was a family tree drawn in charcoal, and on the bottom were flippable sheets that, when opened, told a story.

“The first-ever Emberclaw werewolf, have you heard of her?” He asked me while his finger rested on the symbol at the top of the tree.

It was from that one that all of the branches extended in different directions. It was there which it all began. On the top, the one without a face but rather it was a mere symbol of a person who used to be, I remembered now what Analise had told me. How could I have forgotten our meeting? She told me about the first Emerclaw, she told me her name, what was her name? I couldn’t remember, but I came from her.

“You come from the very first line of Emberclaws,” those were her exact words. She told me about how the first Emberclaw came to be, the horrific situation they had been in and then the birth of that girl; the one who was my ancestor.

It was all coming back in flashes, how Analise told me not to trust Nathaniel, to keep my powers hidden, and how I was stronger than I knew. Nathaniel knew my powers; he knew what I was capable of. Here I was, baring everything for him, he had seen my powers, he knew now that I was the one he needed.

“Fuck,” i looked up and mentally slapped myself for having said that aloud. Nathaniel looked at me quizzically.

“No, no I have no idea who the first Emberclaw was,” I said and shook my head. He ran his fingers down to one of the flaps and removed the little rope that held it together. The flap opened up and rolled down into his hand as he caught it.

“Sabrina Lecruest,” he read and looked up at me. Sabrina, that was her name.

’Don’t give it away,’ Clara whispered.

“Lecruest?” I asked, repeating the same shock I had with Analise, only then it was real. I knew who Sabrina was; I just couldn’t let him know that.

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