Chapter 25

Chapter 25
Secrets Under Stone

Claire’s POV

The girl didn’t speak. She never did. But something in her wide, silver eyes told me this moment was different.

She tugged on my sleeve gently, motioning for me to follow after she came knocking my door late at night. I hesitated—just for a second—but then I caught the shimmer of moonlight on her pale skin. The cemetery stretched out before us like a broken memory. Cold. Silent. Watching.

Still, I followed her.

We weaved through gravestones blanketed in moss and age, the mist curling around my ankles. A raven cawed somewhere to the right, the sound echoing off stone and bone. The full moon lit our path in cold silver, but my chest felt tight, like I was walking into something that had been waiting for me all along.

Then she stopped.

Before a headstone half-swallowed by ivy and vines, she dropped to her knees and began tearing at the greenery. Her fingers were small and quick, dirt streaking across her pale hands. I knelt beside her without a word and helped.

The vines were stubborn—so was grief. But eventually, the name beneath emerged, carved deep in old stone.

Luna Seraphine – Burned as a Witch.

My breath caught.

The girl didn’t look at me. She simply raised her hand and made a slow, deliberate sign across her heart with trembling fingers. Then another. My breath stuttered when I recognized it.

“Mother,” I whispered.

Her mother.

The air shifted. Something old stirred. It wasn’t just the night growing colder—something about this grave breathed beneath the soil.

My throat tightened as I reached forward and brushed away more vines. “They really did it…” I murmured. “They burned her…”

I hadn’t known her. But somehow, I felt like I had.

Tears welled up before I could stop them. All my life, I’d been told what I was—what I shouldn't be. Dangerous. Unnatural. A mistake. This stone… it was proof that I wasn’t the first. That someone else with power, someone kind, someone real… had lived. And died for it.

I pressed my hand against the stone. It was cold. Unforgiving.

“She was like me,” I said aloud. “Like us.”

I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me. Not until the scent of him cut through the damp air—smoke and pine, familiar and wild.

“Claire?” Blake’s voice was low but laced with tension.

I quickly wiped my face and turned, but I couldn’t hide the emotion in my eyes. I didn’t want to.

He stood there, backlit by the moon, his jaw tight, the black of his coat blending into the shadows.

“What is it?” he asked.

I couldn’t speak at first. My voice felt too raw. I pointed to the headstone.

He walked closer, reading the name slowly. I saw his shoulders tense as realization settled over him.

“She was burned?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “They called her a witch. Like they call me. But she was a Luna, Blake. And they still killed her.”

His gaze slid from the headstone to the mute girl beside it, still kneeling, her eyes full of a silent sorrow that stabbed deeper than any scream. His frown deepened. “And the girl?”

“She’s her daughter,” I said. “She just signed ‘Mother.’”

Blake looked at her again—really looked—and something in his expression shifted. Like a veil dropping. Recognition? Maybe. Regret?

“I didn’t know,” he said finally, voice rough. “I didn’t know she was buried here.”

I turned back to the grave. My hands curled into fists on my lap. “They buried her and buried the truth with her. All this time…”

He stepped closer. “Claire…”

“I always wondered if there was a reason I was like this. Why I had these powers. Why no one else seemed to understand. And now—” I broke off, biting the inside of my cheek to stop more tears.

His hand reached out slowly, hesitant, then cupped the back of my neck. Warmth poured into me, grounding and fierce. “You’re not a curse, Claire.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t trust my voice.

He gently pulled me into his chest.

The air between us cracked like dry ice on fire.

I didn’t know if it was the grave or the grief or just being held by him again—but something broke loose inside me. I clutched his jacket with trembling hands and buried my face in the space where his collar met skin. His heart pounded beneath my cheek, loud and alive.

“You always hold me like I won’t cause you trouble,” I whispered.

His hand tightened against the small of my back. “Because I don’t believe you will.”

I looked up at him then. “Even after everything they say about me?”

His brows drew together like he was furious with the world, not me. “I’ve stopped listening to them.”

He leaned in, eyes searching mine like he was trying to find something buried deeper than words. His breath brushed my lips, warm and tasting faintly of mint and danger.

My heart pounded, reckless.

“I thought you were going to kill me once,” I said, my voice a breath.

He exhaled slowly, his forehead pressing against mine. “I was wrong.”

And maybe I moved. Maybe he did. I wasn’t sure. But his lips brushed mine—not a kiss, not really—but more like a promise made with breath and heat and all the things we hadn’t said yet.

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“Of me?”

“No. Of what this means.”

“Me too.”

He didn’t let go.

A breeze curled around us, lifting my hair, stirring the leaves. The moonlight spilled stronger then, spotlighting the grave beneath us.

A sound cracked through the earth.

Blake stiffened. I pulled back, eyes scanning the ground.

“What was that?” I whispered.

Another crack. Then a low, shuddering rumble, like something ancient shifting beneath the surface.

The omega girl scrambled back, eyes wide with panic.

“Claire—” Blake pulled me up to my feet, stepping in front of me protectively.

Then we saw it.

A jagged split appeared across the middle of the grave. Dust and loose soil crumbled into the crack. Something glowed faintly from within.

“What the hell…” Blake whispered.

I dropped to my knees before he could stop me, my fingers brushing the edge of the cracked stone. The glow grew stronger, golden and pulsing—like a heartbeat.

I reached inside.

Blake grabbed my shoulder. “Claire, wait—”

But my fingers found it—a small, ornate locket, warm against my skin, glowing softly like it had waited for me all this time.

The moment I touched it, the light flared.

The ground shook.

And a voice—not from this world—whispered in my head:

“She lives through you.”

I gasped.

Behind me, Blake swore under his breath. “Claire—what is that?”

I opened my palm slowly, heart racing.

The locket floated an inch above my skin, spinning lazily in the air.

Then it snapped open—

And inside was a symbol I had never seen before.

One that glowed the same violet as my poisoned aura.

One that matched the mark on Blake’s chest.

My head snapped up.

He saw it too. And his face went completely still.

“Claire…” he breathed. “That symbol—it’s…”

“On you,” I said, barely able to speak. “It’s on you.”

The air around us shimmered.

Something ancient had just woken up.

And it knew both our names.