Chapter 52 Masked figure
Chapter 52 Masked figure
The night outside the Bookthorn kingdom was unnaturally still.
Too still.
The forest that surrounded the kingdom, which was usually alive with the rustle of nocturnal creatures, now lay silent under a thick, unmoving mist. Even the moon seemed hesitant to shine, veiled behind a layer of gray cloud.
While the kingdom slept, two of the Shadowmoon guards patrolled the eastern courtyard with their boots whispering against the damp stone.
“Strange, isn’t it?” one murmured. “It's so quiet.”
The other one nodded. “Ever since the Alpha regained himself from that possession, it feels like the air has been watching us.”
Then suddenly, there was a flicker in the darkness.
The first guard turned. “Did you see—?”
Before he could finish, a gloved hand covered his mouth. The whisper of a blade followed. It was swift, soundless, and merciless.
The second guard barely had time to draw breath before a shadow moved behind him. Just one precise strike and silence reclaimed the courtyard.
Blood ran between the cobblestones, dark as the night itself.
The masked figure stepped forward, face hidden behind a featureless mask of black steel. No sound came from their movements, and no scent carried to the wind. They looked toward the window on the top floor at the Alpha’s chamber and smiled beneath the mask.
Inside the mansion, oblivious to the slaughter, Lucian and Aria were still locked in the warmth of their quiet night. Their bond between them hummed like a living flame between them, burning brighter than ever. The world outside had vanished for them.
But somewhere in the shadows, the fire had called something else to them.
Maeve woke up from her sleep with a start.
The witch’s eyes snapped open, glowing faintly violet as she sat up in her bed on the lower floor of the mansion. Her wards—those thin threads of protective energy woven across the kingdom—were trembling violently.
Something had breached them.
Something ancient.
“Not again,” Maeve hissed under her breath. She threw off her cloak and moved toward the small altar she’d built in the corner of her room, it was a circle of salt and bone dust, a single black candle flickering at its center.
She pressed her palm to the circle and whispered an incantation under her breath. The flame turned blue, stretching toward the ceiling. The shadows shuddered in response.
Through the haze of magic, she saw it—
A presence moving through the courtyard, silent as smoke, dripping with dark power that didn’t belong to this world.
Maeve’s heart pounded. “Show yourself,” she commanded.
The figure turned slightly, as if hearing her through the veil.
And then, it vanished.
Maeve gasped, stumbling back. The candle died instantly, plunging the room into darkness.
For a moment, the witch stood still, listening to her own breath. Then she grabbed her staff and whispered a prayer for protection.
She knew what she’d sensed wasn’t just a rogue or a spy.
It was something that fed on life.
And it had come for their blood.
---
By morning, the illusion of peace was shattered.
Lucian stood in the courtyard with his jaw clenched tight, and his eyes cold as the bodies of his fallen men were laid before him. The marks on their throats were too clean and too deliberate. Not claws. Not fangs.
Something far worse.
Aria stood beside him, her fingers trembling despite her attempt to stay composed. The shadows around her flickered uneasily, sensing her grief.
“Who found them?” Lucian asked, voice low.
Maeve stepped forward. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. “I did. I felt the shift in the wards last night. There was… something in the courtyard. I tried to confront it.”
“And?” Lucian’s tone sharpened.
Maeve hesitated. “It wasn’t a person. Not entirely. It's an energy, it was fragmented. Old. Almost… familiar.”
Aria’s brow furrowed. “Familiar how?”
Maeve’s gaze flicked between them before she finally said, “It felt like Arlena’s magic. But twisted. Broken. As if someone had taken a piece of her power and molded it into something else.”
Lucian’s expression hardened. “That’s impossible. Arlena’s dead.”
Maeve didn’t respond. The silence was enough answer.
Aria turned toward Lucian, eyes searching his face. “You didn’t sense anything? Anything at all?”
Lucian looked away. “No. The bond must have—”
“Blinded you,” Maeve finished softly. “Whoever or whatever that was, knew exactly when to strike. While your energies were entangled.”
The word entangled made Aria’s stomach twist.
Maeve went on, voice grave. “This wasn’t a random attack. It was a warning. Something wants you two divided.”
Lucian’s fists tightened. “Then it will get the opposite. We’ll fortify the borders, double the guards, and find whoever—”
“Lucian,” Aria interrupted, her tone sharp enough to still him. “This isn’t a fight we can win by force. Whoever did this didn’t just kill the guards, they vanished without a trace. That’s not something a soldier can do.”
Lucian turned to her, the Alpha in him bristling. “You’re suggesting we do nothing?”
“I’m saying we need to understand what we’re facing before we lose more of our people,” Aria countered. “Before they take something else from us.”
Their eyes locked, with tension flaring.
Maeve stepped back quietly, knowing better than to interfere when both halves of the bond were at odds.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Lucian’s shoulders eased slightly. “Fine,” he said finally, his voice low. “We’ll start by tracking traces of Arlena’s old power. If someone is reviving it…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
The air around them thickened, heavy with unspoken fear.
Aria’s shadows quivered suddenly, like they were reacting to something unseen.
She frowned. “Lucian...do you feel that?”
He turned, eyes narrowing. “Feel what?”
Her gaze drifted upward—to the watchtower above them.
The morning fog parted for just a second.
And standing at the top of the tower was the masked figure. It was motionless and watching.
Aria froze.
“Lucian,” she whispered. “Don’t move.”
But before he could even lift his head to look up, the figure raised a single hand and vanished in a swirl of black smoke.
A chill swept the courtyard. The shadows around Aria recoiled as if burned.
Maeve gasped. “No… that energy—”
Lucian turned sharply. “What is it?”
Maeve’s face drained of color. “It’s not Arlena.”
“Then who—”
Maeve’s voice trembled.
“It’s something older.”
Lucian and Aria exchanged a look of quiet dread.
Because if Maeve was right...
Then the enemy that had killed their pack members last night…
Wasn’t someone trying to destroy them?
It was someone trying to wake something buried beneath the kingdom itself.
Something that should never have been found.