166
The moment their truck enters PhantomMoon boundary, the warriors who protect the pack boundary surround them. "Who is it at this time?" One of them echoes.
"I perceive a familiar scent" the other mutters as he cowers, sighting the Alpha of NorthHill Pack.
"We are here in peace, we only seek my uncle's wife," Theon responds. Everyone knows the history of Melissa, Arwan and his father Marco.
Without argument and further questioning, the path is cleared for them. The moon hangs low, dull behind a sheet of clouds, and the damp wind carries a faint metallic scent that makes his Lycan stir restlessly under his skin.
“Keep your senses sharp,” he murmurs, his voice low but edged with command. His eyes sweep the dark treeline. Beside him, Lumina’s expression stays unreadable, though her fingers twitch against the folds of her coat. Bianca sitting behind, silent but alert, and Bernardo brings up the rear, his hand never far from the dagger strapped to his thigh.
Theon’s boots crunch over fallen leaves as they follow the narrow path, as they can't be let in through the main gate. PhantomMoon is quieter than Lumina remembers, it's her pack, where she grew up and lived her life, but meeting Theon has made it such a strange place. No crickets. No owls. Just the sound of their steps and the wind whispering through bare branches. It’s wrong—too still, like the land itself is holding its breath.
Bianca finally breaks the silence. “I thought it was too unusual that a mother whose son was killed in a battle…a family battle and didn't cry out or at least try to fight..”
“She was so calm that I thought she probably changed,” Lumina says without looking back. Her voice is flat, but there’s a shadow in her tone. “But what mother can endure losing her child?”
Bernardo glances at Lumina. “What if she refuses to break the course?”
“That question has been ringing in my head, what the heck am I going to do?” she answers, meeting his gaze for the first time. “Melissa is the only one who could undo it.”
The path ends in front of a house fenced round. Theon slows, scanning the surroundings and his senses heightening. The smell suddenly hits him fully now—blood, thick and old, mingling with the damp scent of rotting wood.
“Something smells so bad around here,” he says, pushing open the gate that creaks like it hasn’t moved in years. Then he knocks on the door but nobody answers.
Theon tries the door. Locked. He looks at Lumina. She steps forward, lays her palm flat against the wood, and whispers something too low for him to catch. The lock clicks, the door swings inward with a long, reluctant groan.
Inside, the air is stale, suffocating. Shadows cling to the walls, broken only by the dim light spilling from the half-open door. The floorboards groan under their weight.
Bernardo mutters, “This place stinks of death.”
They move in carefully. Theon’s eyes adjust to the gloom. Shelves lined with dusty jars crowd the small front room, their contents unidentifiable—roots, dried herbs, small bones. A thick layer of dust blankets the furniture. No signs of life… except for the crimson smear along the far wall.
His chest tightens.
Bianca sees it too. “Is that—”
“Yes,” Lumina says quietly.
The smear leads toward the back of the house, a jagged trail of dark, dried blood. Theon follows it without a word, his steps slower now. Each footfall seems too loud. The air grows heavier with every step, the smell stronger.
They reach a small room at the end of the hall. The door is half-open, the wood around the handle splintered as if someone slammed it hard—maybe more than once. Theon pushes it open.
Melissa lies slumped against the wall, her skin gray, eyes half-lidded but glassy. Her wrists are open, blood dried into deep brown streaks down her arms. Her dress, once white, is stiff with it. A knife rests in her lap, its blade dark. Her head tilts at an unnatural angle, as if she slid down the wall and never moved again.
Bianca swallows hard, looking away. Bernardo mutters something under his breath and crosses himself.
But Theon’s attention catches on the floor in front of her—on the circle drawn in her blood. Symbols twist and curl within it, jagged lines intersecting in ways that make his eyes ache if he stares too long.
Lumina steps closer, kneeling just outside the circle. Her jaw tightens. “She finished it.”
“Finished what?” Bernardo asks.
Lumina’s gaze doesn’t leave the symbols. “The Blood Seal. It locks the curse permanently.” She glances up at Theon, and for the first time tonight, he sees something like worry flicker in her eyes. “This isn’t just irreversible—it’s protected. If I try to break it, it could kill me. She sacrificed herself to make sure we get no solution.”
Bianca shakes her head in disbelief. “Then why… why would she do this to herself?”
“She didn’t do it to herself,” Lumina says, her tone sharp enough to cut. She touches two fingers to the outer edge of the circle, drawing them back quickly as if burned. “Someone made her. Someone powerful enough to block me from seeing what happened. I feel another presence was here with her. It feels familiar.”
Theon exhales slowly, his fists clenching at his sides. “Can you at least find out who?”
“No,” Lumina says. Her voice is low, but the frustration beneath it is unmistakable. “Whoever it was covered their tracks. They’ve been covering them for weeks. That’s why I couldn’t sense Melissa before now.”
Bernardo’s voice is rough. “So what now? We’re just… stuck?”
Theon looks at Melissa’s lifeless face, then back at the blood circle. His wolf paces inside him, restless, agitated. “We’re not stuck,” he says finally. “We just need another way.”
Bianca frowns. “Another way doesn’t exist. You heard her.”
“There’s always another way,” Theon snaps, sharper than he intended. His gaze flickers to Lumina. “We’re not leaving this house until we have one.”
Lumina studies him for a moment, then stands slowly. “Then you’d better prepare to stay a while. Because right now, this curse is stronger than all of us combined. The sacrifice of blood and soul is not easily broken. Even the moon goddess looks away when such is done”
The wind outside picks up, rattling the windows. Somewhere deep in the forest, a branch cracks like a bone snapping. Theon’s eyes narrow toward the sound.
They’re not alone.