Rodrigo didn’t know how long he’d been walking.
The torches at the shrine entrance ca into view and he stopped, blinking once, his hands still fisted at his sides. He looked at them for a mont, then made himself breathe.
Seven was at the gate with a small group of lycans. When he saw him, he dismissed them with a word and walked over.
"Alpha." He paused, his eyes moving across Rodrigo’s face. "You don’t look well."
Rodrigo glanced at him and continued inside. "I’m fine."
"Is there a prob—"
"How is the ritual going."
Seven fell into step behind him. They crossed the pebbled path to the front doors, the guards bowing as they approached, and stepped into the shrine hall.
The hall was pale stone, lunar markings carved from floor to ceiling, moon scrolls sealed in white wax running the full length of the walls. The priestesses were gathered at the center, the high priestess among them, her hands clasped behind her back, her voice low as she spoke to the others. The frown on her face was the first thing Rodrigo clocked.
The hall bowed when they entered.
The high priestess straightened and dismissed the others with one motion, then walked to him.
"How is the ritual," Rodrigo asked. "Is there a problem."
She held his gaze for a mont.
"Co with ," she said, and turned.
She led them through the back passage and down the stairs to the underground section, stopping before a set of heavy doors. Carved into the stone above them in deep, clean letters —
The Moonarium.
Seven stepped forward and pushed them open.
The hall stretched long and wide, pillars flanking both sides carved floor to ceiling with markings so old the edges had softened. The shelves between them held scrolls stacked deep, hundreds of them, so cracked at the edges, so sealed in wax so dark it had gone nearly black. At the far end the floor rose to an elevated podium, open completely to the sky above, and below it a celestial basin rested on a slab of ancient dark rock, the surface of the water inside it perfectly still despite everything.
Three seers in white stood around it, their hands subrged to the wrist, their chant low and continuous as they circled.
Rodrigo stopped at the doors.
The effort was visible in every line of them — the drawn shoulders, the tight set of their backs, the way their feet moved as though the floor was pulling against them.
He turned to the high priestess.
"What is wrong," he said.
She was quiet long enough that the chant filled the room, bouncing off the stone walls.
Then she said, "The blood moon curse has grown stronger."
Rodrigo’s jaw tightened.
"We don’t fully understand why," she continued, her voice asured and low. "Perhaps because we are nearing the end of the curse. One seer has always been sufficient to seal the moon." She paused. "Tonight it took three, and even now, it doesn’t seem possible."
He looked at the seers. Their hands hadn’t left the water. The chant hadn’t stopped.
"If they cannot seal it," he said. He let the sentence end there.
"We would have nine moons left," she replied.
The number sat in the air between them. Rodrigo stared at the basin and said nothing. Beside him Seven’s hands folded slowly behind his back.
Nine moons.
He turned and walked out.
They stood outside the shrine in the dark, Rodrigo’s eyes fixed on the sky, Seven a step to his left. Neither of them spoke. The torchlight moved on the gate in front of them and sowhere in the distant treeline a night bird called once and went quiet.
Seven glanced at him.
Rodrigo’s shoulders had dropped since they ca outside, his jaw set hard, his eyes fixed on the sky with the kind of stillness that had nothing to do with calm. His hands hung loose at his sides — not fisted, not braced. Just hanging. Like he’d stopped needing to hold onto anything.
Seven looked ahead and said nothing.
"The patrol lycans," Rodrigo said. His voice ca out low.
"They have been stationed."
He nodded.
A quiet mont passed.
"The cosignors of the earthstone," Seven started. "The latest reports place them close to Hades territory, which ans they may have ties to Annalise."
Rodrigo’s gaze didn’t move from the sky.
"It has to be the earthstone," he said. "We are running out of ti."
"It should be," Seven said. "This is the first real lead in twenty years."
He didn’t finish the sentence.
They stood without speaking for a while. The wind moved through the torches, bending the light. Rodrigo’s shoulders had dropped since they ca outside, the tension in them settling lower, deeper, the kind that stopped looking like tension and started looking like weight.
"If the auction house leads nowhere," Rodrigo said, "I will tell the people."
Seven turned to look at him.
"Alpha. It’s too soon."
"They have a right to prepare themselves." A beat. "In case we never find it."
Seven looked ahead. His hands closed slowly at his sides. He blinked once at the dark treeline and said nothing for long enough that the silence said it for him.
"We will find it," he said.
A beat.
"We will."
The door behind them swung open.
A priestess stepped out, her face bright with it before she even spoke. "Alpha." She bowed. "The ritual was successful. There will be no full moon tonight."
The breath left Rodrigo in one long exhale and he turned inside without a word.
The high priestess was with the seers at the far end of the Moonarium when he returned, the three of them standing loose now, the chant finished, their hands dry at their sides. They turned and bowed as he approached, their faces tired but steady.
"The full moon is sealed," the nearest seer said.
Rodrigo looked at them. Really looked — at the exhaustion in their faces, the way one of them was pressing her fingers quietly against her own wrist as though checking sothing.
"Thank you," he said. "All of you."
"We are at your service, Alpha."
"Go ho. Rest." He glanced at Seven. "Send supplies to their hos in the morning."
"Thank you, Alpha." they thanked him and filed out, and Rodrigo turned and walked out, Seven falling into step behind him.
They passed through the front doors and out into the night, and at the gate Seven bowed slightly.
"Goodnight, Alpha. If there’s nothing else, I’ll retire for the night."
Rodrigo stopped walking.
He stood with his back to Seven, his eyes on the torchlight. His jaw shifted once. The night was quiet around him and in the quiet the thing he’d spent the last several hours walking away from ca back, steady and uninvited, like it had simply been waiting for him to run out of road.
He cleared his throat.
"It’s still early," he said. "Have a drink with ."
He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and began walking towards the pack house.
User Comments
0 comments from readers