Chapter 721: The Weight of Certainty
Victoria watched Selith move about the chamber, her hunched fra silhouetted against the glow of the torches. The old woman had already returned to her work, her crooked fingers sorting through bundles of dried herbs, rearranging the glass jars on the shelves.
The room slled of blood and incense.
"Our plans can proceed," Victoria told Selith.
The old woman straightened slowly, her joints cracking. She turned to face Victoria, her blackened lips pressed together, her milky eyes sharp as she nodded.
Selith did not say it outright, but she was glad that her worry had been for nothing.
Victoria watched as Selith turned back to her work, her crooked fingers resuming their thodical sorting.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft clink of glass jars and the distant simr of the cauldron in the corner. Victoria remained where she was, her expression unreadable.
After a while, she stood.
She did not announce her departure. She simply walked toward the spiral staircase, her bare feet silent against the cold stone floor. Selith did not acknowledge her leaving because there was absolutely no reason to, after all.
Victoria climbed the stairs slowly, her hand trailing along the rough stone wall. The torches flickered as she passed, their flas bowing as if in deference.
When she reached the top, she stopped.
She did not know why she felt unsettled. She had achieved her aim. Sophia had said the words Victoria needed to hear. The girl did not rember. The spell was still holding. Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
Yet sothing nagged at her, sothing she could not quite na.
She wondered if there was any chance that the daughter she thought she knew had changed. She paused, then shook her head imdiately, as if the motion could dislodge the thought.
No.
There was no way her daughter could change. No one knew Sophia like she did. She had shaped the girl from the mont she was born. She had controlled her, molded her, broken her down, and rebuilt her into sothing manageable. Sothing useful.
Sophia would not change.
She would remain where she was—confused, uncertain, desperate for a mother’s love that she would never truly receive.
What Victoria had done was enough. It had always been enough. It would keep Sophia in place.
She was certain of it.
Their plans would continue. They had just a month, after all.
She straightened her shoulders then and walked down the corridor.
Their plans would proceed.
---
At the shrine, the candles had burned low.
The workers had quietly returned to their tasks, their concerned faces disappearing into the back rooms where incense was stored and offerings were prepared. The assistant had busied herself with cleaning the ritual tools, her movents quick and efficient.
Orion stood nearby, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Sophia.
She was still seated in the wooden chair, her hands resting in her lap, her eyes distant. A frown was etched on her face, deep and thoughtful, as if she was turning sothing over in her mind and could not find the edges of it.
He wondered what was going through her head.
She had been quiet for a while now.
Sophia turned to Madam Tyler then, her voice soft.
"Can you help ?"
"Truthfully," Madam Tyler said, "I am not confident that I can."
Sophia’s expression did not change, but sothing in her eyes flickered.
"Everything I am doing for you," Madam Tyler continued, "is based on knowledge I already have. Knowledge that did not help us notice that there were remnants of black magic on you in the first place. We should have seen it. We should have known."
She shook her head slowly.
"I doubt that I will be able to truly help you. But I will do my best. It may take ti."
Sophia was quiet for a mont. Then she nodded.
"It does not matter how long it takes," she said. "As long as it is before whatever Victoria has planned for this pack happens. That is all I ask. We need to be prepared before then."
She paused, her fingers curling in her lap.
"Whatever she used on ... Neoma said it is like a marker."
Madam Tyler’s brow furrowed.
"Neoma," she repeated. "That is your wolf?"
Sophia nodded.
The old woman’s expression shifted, sothing like understanding settling into her tired features.
"Then that helps us narrow it down, though I must admit that it only helps a little bit. A marking." She exhaled slowly. "There is so much to do with so little ti. I will have to go to the library and start searching. But honestly... given how much work this will be, I will not be able to help with the translations often."
Sophia shook her head.
"That is not an issue. As long as you can help with this, that is enough."
She stood up from the chair, her legs steady now, her hands no longer trembling.
"I am sorry for putting you through this," she said.
Madam Tyler waved her off.
"You do not need to apologize. I like you, child. And I would do anything to help you. Helping you helps the pack. It helps protect everyone."
Sophia smiled. It was small, tired, but genuine.
Then she turned to Orion.
"Let’s go."
They walked out of the shrine together, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor.
The mont they stepped outside, the cold air hit them. Snow dusted the path ahead of them.
Sophia stopped and pulled Orion’s cloak from her shoulders, then held it out to him.
"You should take this back."
Orion frowned.
"Are you not cold anymore?"
She shook her head.
"Not as cold as I was before. My own cloak will be enough."
He took the cloak from her hands and adjusted it on his body, shielding himself against the cold.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, but then Orion spoke up.
"You know you can tell anything, right?" he asked her.
Sophia glanced at him with a frown.
She did not understand where this was coming from.
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