The following morning, Michael woke to the feel of a hand on his chest, while another gently stroked his head. He did not have to open his eyes to know who it belonged to. The scent of peony, and failure to maintain personal space by sitting so close to him on his bed he could feel her meant it could have only been his mother.

Good, he thought. Any other time he would have been annoyed at her unannounced visit, but it saved him a trip and ensured they could talk alone. He would tell her about the fairy, and, together, they could come up with a plan to deal with her.

When he opened his eyes and met hers, her hand stilled as she smiled down at him. "Good morning."

Upon seeing her, his father's threat drifted through his mind. It made him want to reach up and grab hold of her hand still placed on his chest—as if holding onto her was all he needed to do in order to protect her—but he did not. Instead, he sat up, even though he knew it would force her to pull both hands away.

"Where is Aunt Emilia?"

She placed her hands in her lap. "I sent her down to the dining hall to have breakfast."

"Why did you not go with her?"

"It seemed like you wanted to talk last night."

That was his mother. Perceptive, as always.

"Speaking of, did something happen between you and Lukas? It seemed like Emilia and I stumbled upon you two having a disagreement?"

Was that the guard's name?

Even with one, Michael still could not figure out why he seemed so familiar.

"I want him gone. We do not...mesh well."

"Lukas is a good man. He is not much older than you, but I trust him. 'Tis why I placed him to watch over you as your primary guard. So, please be a little nicer to him."

He had absolutely no intention of keeping Lukas as a guard, but that was an argument that could be made at a later time. There were more urgent matters to discuss, and no time to slowly ease into them.

"I should not have broken my promise to attend the meeting. I am sorry."

"Why did you miss it?"

"I went into the Woodlands."

"The Woodlands? What for?"

If he were to say it was because of an unexplainable urge to go into the very place he dreamt of almost every time he shut his eyes, it would have only raised questions he did not have answers to. So, he decided to get straight to the point.

"I came across a fairy."

He did not know why, but, for the time being, he decided to keep the part about the golden door to himself.

"You went into the Woodlands because you came across a fairy?"

He shook his head. "I came across her after going into the Woodlands."

She looked away and down at her hands for only a moment, then returned her gaze to him. "Are you certain she was a fairy?"

He nodded.

She then stood up, walked over to his window and stared outside. At the Woodlands.

"The Fae are supposed to be gone. They assured me they would never return, and we all know the Fae cannot tell lies. Unless..." she paused. "Perhaps she never made it out and has been in the Woodlands this whole time." She turned her head and looked at him. "Maybe she is stuck."

Whether she was stuck, abandoned, or exiled, it did not matter enough to Michael to make him care about her situation. He cared only about what her existence would mean for his mother, who—unbeknownst to the Wolves—secretly helped the Fae escape.

Pushing the blanket covering his bottom half aside, he swung his pant-clad legs over the edge of his bed and stood up. "And how is that my problem?" He asked as he made his way to the chaise at the foot of his bed to put on the shirt he had tossed there the night before.

"Dare I say you made it your problem the moment you found her."

He thought it best to keep to himself that he had not found her, but she, who had found him.

"You spared her. There must have been a reason why, Michael. And whatever that reason was has made her your responsibility."

Michael stopped, and turned around to look at his mother.

She cannot be serious, he thought.

"Are you even hearing yourself? Not killing her made her my responsibility?"

"You chose to protect her."

"I chose to protect you."

Her secret had forced a wedge between them, yet kept them bound to one another the moment Michael swore to keep it.

"And killing her would not have gotten that job done? Nobody would have known she even existed, and, therefore, nobody would have discovered her. There would be no threat of my secret coming out had you done so."

She absolutely cannot be serious.

"You risked everything to help the Fae, yet you think I should have killed her?"

"I saved a race from annihilation because it was the right thing to do. We all make decisions that we have to be responsible for is all I am saying, Michael. You spared her life, so you must take responsibility for that decision."

"How?"

"That is for you to figure out, my son."

Was she trying to say whether the fairy lives or dies was for him to decide? That she would accept whatever decision he came to?

She had gotten involved with the Fae and now had to spend the rest of her life worrying about the Wolves finding out, and feeling guilty to where she could barely visit her dead son. Did she truly expect him to live a similar life? He owed nothing to the Fae, so why should he take responsibility for one lost fairy?

If he killed her, then he could protect his mother. If he let her live, then he would go mad with every passing day wondering if she might be discovered and his mother's secret right along with her. But could he so easily take a life?

He did not know.

And it was that uncertainty that scared him most of all because it, too—just like his reoccurring dream—plagued him for nearly a year.

He turned and walked the remaining distance to his chaise, picked up his shirt and quickly put it on. "You said they are innocent. Do you still stand by those words? Are you absolutely certain?"

"I would not have helped them if I was not absolutely certain, Michael. The Fae never harmed Gabriel."

He turned to face his mother once again. "How do you know? How are you so sure? Why will you still not tell me?"

It was his mother's refusal to give him that very answer that initially caused the rift between them for nearly a year. When he woke up the day after the almost war without any memory of what happened in the Woodlands, Michael wholeheartedly believed he had done something so horrible he blacked it out.

Something as horrible as killing his only brother.

But she had assured him he had not killed Gabriel, yet refused to tell him how he had died, and maintained her stance that the Fae had not harmed Gabriel. But if it had not been him nor them, then who?

"Because I am not ready."

"Not ready for what?"

She walked over to him, and placed her hand on his chest. Just over his heart. It immediately made him think about the fairy, who had done the same thing the day before.

"To extinguish the light inside of you I wish to keep lit for as long as possible."

All he could do was stare into her sad blue eyes as he placed his hand on top of hers. "We are creatures of darkness, mother. Always have been, and always will be."

As much as she wanted to protect and keep him from learning painful truths, she could not do so forever. Sooner or later, whether she liked it or not, Michael would grow up. He would become an Alpha. A leader forced to shoulder the weight of the moon that would always fall after its rise.

So, if she was not going to tell him, then he saw no other choice but to find the answer on his own. And he had a feeling the only one who could help him find it was the same one who could help him decide on how he should take responsibility.

A/N: Who do you think killed Gabriel? Would LOVE to hear your theories!