Untouchable by Marii Solaria

Chapter 66 – The Avatar

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Bonu

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“The world, even the smallest parts of it, is filled with things you don’t know.” Sherman Alexie

Κίνα

The sounds of book pages turning resounded through the quiet atmosphere of the library. This book didn’t have what I was looking for, so I ditched it and looked in another. I was discharged after a few days, under strict doctor’s orders to take it easy. I couldn’t strain myself because I was still in recovery.

Fortunately, I was clear to train the pup trainees but cannot assert much physically. It sucked. I felt like half a wolf. Weakness was something I loathe. My healing ability remained, but wolves must take time healing from poison. My friends brought me home, yet Neron was bending over backward to ensure that I wouldn’t stress myself out.

It was weird of him to watch my every move. He took my recovery seriously, ensuring that I wouldn’t lift a finger around him. Neron became an overbearing mother, fussing over my health. As much as I appreciated the care, I was not helpless. For example, I could walk up the stairs myself, but he was so insistent on carrying me up there.

Any excuse to get closer to me, I guess.

Shaking my thoughts free from the Alpha, I rummaged through historical records, focusing on the timeless existence of werewolves. In this sea of books, one held information on white wolves. I needed to find it. The Zircon Library was a large place in the very back of the pack house. It took a minute to find this place after such a long time.

Using the rolling ladder, I climbed to the top of several bookshelves, eyeing the myriad of titles on book spines. None catch my interest. Werewolf shifting, full moon lunacy, werewolf hierarchy, I didn’t care about that.

I needed to know what I was. If white wolves were so rare, there must be other reasons besides being the embodiment of Selene. I wanted to know why I was born a white wolf. Why did Selene choose me as her

avatar?

As I was about to part with my search, a particular book captured my attention. Hidden in plain sight, it was the only book without its title on its spine. I jerked the rolling ladder forward, pulling the dusty book from its

confinements..

Several sneezes later, at a table, I examined the old, brown, leather–bound book. Nothing about it hinted to the subject within. It was cloaked in mystery. Despite its ancient appearance, there was a silvered lock that bound the book shut. A lock without a keyhole.

“What the hell?” I whispered, searching for a way to unlock the book. But there was none. The one book that captured my attention in the endless sea of literature is the one book I couldn’t crack open. “Fuck!” Something in this book was calling to me, urging me to keep this piece of history.

Was it instinct? Was it the weird pull I have to it? Or am I going crazy? My desperation is showing. The desire to learn my identity had never been stronger, and it was affecting my focus. Slumping in my chair, I huffed, my breath flailing my curly fringe in the air.

“The journey of self–discovery is more complicated than I thought.” Chuckling to myself, I continue to

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I was so ensnared that my finger got caught in a sharp corner of

my damn finger in the air, blood dribbling fast from the tiny wound. Some crimson droplets flung from the

Click!

mouth gaped open in shock. Did…did my blood just…

blood was

book–sputtering a little because of the ridiculous amount of dust this thing accumulated- and started flipping through

engrossed, the book imprisoning my focus into the tan, wrinkling pages. The world around me faded into darkness. For that moment, it was just me

calligraphy penmanship was ancient, old as time itself. Small words filled the entire page. Every sword I read sent a droplet of an icy chill down my

in werewolf society as perfect embodiments of their matron goddess, Selene. She, who treasures her creations dearly, made one creation

mysticism within their bodies. They are the physical embodiments of the wolves‘ beloved goddess. It is said that those who are granted the chance to see a white wolf would forever live in prosperity and

deadly needs. Many white wolves in the ancient past are killed by their captors or commit suicide to escape their dreaded fates. Selene, hurt by her treasures who stray on

white wolf is until they shift after puberty. Even then, they do not hold the immense power history has reverend them to. Only when they awaken, could

Goddess.

child. How Selene chooses

filled with greed. Only the next century’s avatar, whoever he or she may be, could unlock the sacred contents of

The Avatar

ancient magic. Sighing, I closed the book, locking it in place.

my friends, right? They always treated me like an equal. They’re the only ones who I’d allow to see this book. No one

Does he care that I was a white wolf? His father insisted on him mating with me to gain power. What happens when a

Phoebe, but that was it, as far

as large as a school textbook, but

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hide this in my room‘ I thought to myself, beginning my journey back into my room. This large pack house doesn’t compare to the house back home, but

It didn’t bring pleasure, it brought pain. The scent alone awoken the deepest and darkest of the horrific memories of my past. Phantom bites on my arm, fists to my stomach and chest, and the blows to my head, I felt them all. One look from this monster and I reverted into the scared child on her first day in

terror in my heart, plucking each heartstring

large, bulky, yet aging body of Jonathan Prince, Neron’s father, my former Alpha. The

but to smack the deplorable smile off

book.” His voice was like smooth velvet to the ears of admirers, but to me,

it?”

I hugged it tighter to me, compressing my ribcage. It’ll leave a mark, but I didn’t care.

It could turn the bravest of all souls into a shriveling mess. Fear had incredible longevity; it could last more than a human’s lifespan. Jonathan’s presence was maddening and overbearing. The fear that erupts within me threatens to choke me out and leave me for

he took forward, I

hurt you,

my old identity weaved itself Into my voice, croaking out into the world it left

filled with strength, yet so much fear. You can’t fear me after all these

like a cinder. “I have every run the wary