Chapter four: Am I Dead

Valeria's POV

I struggled to open my eyes, a sliver of light filtering through, revealing an expanse of pristine white. It was like a palace, or perhaps a room—whichever it was, it felt far removed from the world I knew. Tentatively, I dared to peer further, only to be met with a blinding radiance that scorched my retinas, forcing me to snap my eyes shut once more.

A sensation coursed through me that I was no longer tethered to the realm of the living. If this were the realm beyond, it was starkly different from the torment and fire of hell I'd conjured in my mind. Gently, I pushed my eyelids apart again, revealing two ethereal women gazing down upon me. Their allure was breathtaking, as though they'd stepped from the canvas of an artist's dream. Their eyes sparkled with an entrancing shade of blue, framed by lashes so lush that they almost seemed to defy reality. Rosy lips curved with a subtle elegance, and their hair cascaded in a shimmering waterfall down to their waists.

"Angels, perhaps?" I murmured to myself, torn between wonder and confusion.

Before I could unravel my thoughts further, one of the figures hastened towards me, a palpable excitement radiating from her very being. Casting a swift glance at her companion, she declared, "Alert Her Majesty that the princess has reawakened! Praise be to the heavens!!"

Her words sparked a flurry of questions in my mind. Princess? Was I being heralded as some ethereal royalty, perhaps a daughter of a celestial goddess? As my thoughts danced, the atmosphere shifted subtly, and the sound of purposeful footsteps heralded the arrival of an imposing presence. I shifted my gaze, and in that instant, I was rendered speechless.

Before me stood a goddess incarnate, her eyes glistening with tears. She embodied a beauty that surpassed description, an embodiment of divine perfection itself. It left no room for doubt: I had ventured into the very realm of the afterlife.

"Finally, my daughter, you have returned! Thank the heavens, you are not dead"e," she proclaimed, settling onto the edge of my bed, her emotions unguarded and sincere.

Had I misunderstood? Was I not truly gone? Her words reverberated in my thoughts, leaving me to grapple with their implications. If not a mere memory lingering in the past, how had I survived the fall? The goddess reached out, taking my hands, and in that touch, a connection ignited that silenced the skeptic within me. Her features bore an uncanny resemblance to my own reflection in the mirror, stifling the doubts that sought to surface.

Yet, my head throbbed painfully, a cruel reminder that even in the afterlife, I was not entirely free of discomfort.

"Ouch! My… my head… hurts!" I screamed, holding my head. How could I still be feeling pains in heaven?

"Are you well? Should I summon a healer?" My 'mother,' for lack of a better term, inquired with genuine concern.

"I am wrestling with a tempest of confusion," I confessed, my hand instinctively rising to my aching head. "To believe oneself dead and yet to suffer the agony akin to hell—this is my dilemma."

A tender smile played upon her lips, and she offered a reassuring explanation. "Thankfully, you have not crossed the boundaries into either hell or heaven. You have found yourself within the Crystal Pearl Kingdom of the Lycans."

" The what? Who… what… can you please tell me how the hell I ended up here instead of dying?" I asked, curiously. I was supposed to die and not end up in some freaking supernatural pack again.

" My husband, your father, found your scent rushing through the river he was bathing. He followed it and found you unconscious," she said, sighing. She looked relieved and acted as though I was a precious gem that had been missing for centuries.

My mind reeled, struggling to process this newfound reality. Instead of the infernal torment or celestial ecstasy, I now resided in an otherworldly realm, a tapestry woven with the threads of the supernatural.

"But my scent, it remains that of a human," I protested, my voice tinged with doubt.

" Human? Of course not. Although you might look human you are far from being one"

" Then can you explain why I look like one and even smell like them too? And… how did I survive such a fall?" My questions came rushing in.

" You are…" The woman who claimed to be my mother was about to say something when an authoritative voice cut her off.

"That's because you my daughter are a royal blood from the Lycan. Only a royal lycan has the kind of scent you carry."

Amidst my tumultuous thoughts, a commanding voice sliced through the air, interrupting our conversation. My attention turned to the entrance, where an authoritative figure with very handsome face stood.

The Lycan King. My father.

He moved closer, each step laden with purpose. As he drew near, he inhaled deeply, a gesture that sent shivers of unease down my spine. And then, without warning, he enfolded me in a warm embrace, and the world seemed to stand still.

"Beloved daughter, you have returned to us. The gods have surely bestowed their favor," he murmured, his voice tender and affectionate.

Emotions welled within me, nearly overwhelming my senses. In that embrace, I found solace and a sense of belonging that had eluded me for so long. Amid the warmth of his hug, a question bloomed within me.

"Why have I not transformed into a wolf?" I finally mustered the courage to voice my curiosity. "Should I not have already undergone such a transformation?"

"Lycans are distinct from their feral counterparts," my father explained. "Our strength rests in the intricacy of our metamorphosis. It takes two years for our inner wolf to fully emerge. Until then, we remain in human form."

" You mean I still have two years to evolve?" I asked, blinking. My heart quickened at this revelation.

"You have already reached eighteen, right?" he inquired.

I nodded, albeit hesitantly.

"Yes, you indeed have two years ahead—a period during which you shall undergo intensive training to awaken your royal Lycan wolf. We are fortunate to have found you just in time," he said, his relief palpable.

" Training? Unless you want to see me fainting each time" I smiled bitterly at him.

" Lycans have their own special training unlike the werewolves, " he explained with a smile.

Amidst the otherworldly circumstances, a comforting warmth enfolded me. I had finally found a place of acceptance, a realm where I truly belonged. The genuine happiness radiating from my newfound family was a balm to my soul.

However, beneath this comforting current ran an undercurrent of bitterness. My thoughts inevitably turned to Killian, my mate, and the painful encounter that had transpired between us. The memory of his harsh rejection cast a shadow over my newfound acceptance. A longing welled within me—a desire to confront him for his cruelty.

"Tell me, my precious daughter. Who hurt you? Is it the people that raised you?" My mother's voice, laced with concern and an underlying fury, broke into my reverie.

I quickly shook my head," No… they didn't. It's… it's someone else. My parents loved me like their own child."

"Then tell me who did this to you, sweetheart," my mother insisted. She patted me as she patiently waited for my answer.

"Can… can we talk about this later?" I stuttered, not ready to relieve that dreadful night.

" Amelia, let her be. She is already with us. She will let us know at the right time," my father said, stopping my mother's rage.

My mother took a deep breath to calm herself before holding my hands, "I promise to deal with all of them. Just let me know when you are ready."

I felt warm, knowing I finally meet my family. I was happy to be in a place where I was accepted.

And more than anything else, I was happy I wasn't human.

I was a wolf, even not just any wolf, but a Lycan wolf.

I wonder if Killian knew who I truly was, would he accept me? Or would he have still rejected me?