487- The Auction of Thalira's Soul
POV Thalyndra Moonclaw:
"We're not just any bunch—you don't know who you're dealing with. We're connected to the monarchy, not mere subordinates."
"Oh, forgive me for not recognizing that, your royalty—any special requests for your deaths?" Myrion sneered.
"We're also here because of an auction," the blond retorted. "It's not just about the girl."
Anton took a step forward, interested in the subject.
"What auction?"
The wolf fell silent for a few seconds, as if pondering whether to continue revealing his secrets or not.
"The auction of an ancient painting, painted by one of the first she-wolves to set foot on Earth."
"What was her name?" asked Myrion.
"And does that matter? We've never heard of the Tharnaks' interest in ancient objects."
"Well, I'm interested," he lied, shamelessly.
The Merchant sighed.
"It was Thalira's painting."
My heart stopped beating.
I knew exactly what he was talking about—Thalira's painting, the full moon portrait that seemed to carry the soul of the night. I remembered it well—the imposing moon surrounded by floating leaves, almost alive, against the night sky. It was a work that reflected our connection to the ancestral world, something only an original she-wolf, like Thalira, could capture. It wasn't just a painting—it was part of our history, a piece of who we are.
And it was one of the paintings that had been with my father.
My legs wavered, losing strength.
His voice came to my head, so loud and clear that he seemed to be present, right beside me, just like the image of the day he presented the artifact to me, after managing to acquire it before the Merchants.
"Thalira. One of the first she-wolves to walk these lands, one of the originals. She wasn't just a warrior, but also an artist. Her paintings were famous among wolves—especially the most acclaimed one, which depicts the full moon in all its fullness, capturing all the strength and mystery of our essence. They say she painted that piece in her final days, as a symbol of everything we are. Now the Dark Merchants want to auction it off, as if it were just another valuable artifact. But to us, it's much more than that. It's Thalira's memory, a piece of our history that we cannot let fall into the wrong hands," he said that day.
My throat closed, compressed by the avalanche of sensations I was feeling. Every cell in my body began to vibrate with that revelation.
They were in possession of what didn't belong to them—something they stole when they went to my house and took everything from me, everything I had.
"Hmm... I don't know it," Myrion replied, his voice resounding through the whirlwind of emotions clouding my mind.
The Merchant made a noise in his throat.
"And you claimed to be interested in artifacts." He snorted. "Anyway, we're in the vicinity for the auction."
"When will the auction be?" Anton questioned.
"I'll only answer if you release me."
"Answer quickly or you'll die," he hissed, impatient.
"I'll only answer because I know you're not actually interested in this. You've never gotten involved in our business before, and I imagine you'll continue to be smart and stay uninvolved."
"Tick... tock..." Myrion murmured, bored.
"It will be at the Mountain Crow Hotel, in a week. An isolated location, far from prying eyes."
"What's the access key?" the alpha insisted.
The Merchant shook his head.
"There, you'll have to kill me—I can't give that answer."
"Because you don't know or because you don't want to?" Myrion inquired.
"Because I can't. The entry is only told to guests, and you're not on the list."
A breeze blew, sending their scent in my direction. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, absorbing it.
The vivid memory hit me.
I shuddered, the pain tearing me apart all over again for a second time.
"Death," Myrion decreed. "They're of no further use."
"I gave all the answers you asked for and all that I could give. If you're males of your word, you'll release us as agreed."
I couldn't hear anything else, couldn't focus on anything.
The scent that hit me—familiar and undesirable. Burnt wood and pepper, mixed with something metallic, almost like the smell of dried blood. I knew that odor. It was the same smell I had sensed on the day my parents were killed.
He was there.
That Merchant was there.
He was one of those responsible for it. I didn't know what his actual participation was, but I knew he had collaborated.
Without thinking twice, I pulled the dagger from the sheath on my pants. My eyes vibrated, their color alternating as I lost the battle to rage and let myself be dominated by my primal instincts.
My nails were claws and my teeth, sharp fangs. Half human, half animal.
I stepped out from behind the tree and advanced toward them. Anton and Myrion were the first to notice me—both furrowed their brows upon noticing the rage consuming me.
"Thalyndra?" Anton asked, unsure how to interact with me, confused by what he saw.
My fingers were firm around the handle, so tightly gripped that it felt like part of my body. The Merchants turned their heads to the side and stared at me.
"You damned liars—you lied to us!" roared the blond, turning to the other. "They're Eldoria," he affirmed.
I had no idea how they knew I was in Eldoria, but I didn't care. I could only think of one thing, desire something beyond my capacity to be placid.
Blood and death.
"Pleasure," Myrion mocked, bowing.
"How do you know that?" Anton interpellated.
I stopped beside the blond Merchant and sniffed him, reaffirming the scent tattooed in my memory. One of them.
"You!" I accused, through clenched teeth.
He smiled at me, and I didn't fail to notice that there was something familiar about him, though I couldn't identify what.
"Hello, Thalyndra—I was waiting to finally meet you," he purred, all courteous.
"You killed my parents," I murmured, breathless.
He blinked slowly.
"Ah, yes, I was there. In fact, I was the one responsible for plunging the silver dagger into his heart." He bit his cheeks. "But that's not relevant right now. We're looking for you—you need to come with us."
Anton growled.
"She's not going anywhere with you."
The wolf looked at him, then at me, and flared his nostrils, sniffing the air. He shook his head in depreciation.
"Good thing you didn't make the mistake of mating, like those Tharnak idiots have a habit of doing. There are much better plans for you than that."
Anton's body stiffened as he lost control to the wolf.
I didn't want to hear anything else—I only wanted vengeance, to fulfill the oath I had made to myself: to stain myself with the blood of those responsible.
"I'm going to kill you!" I hissed.
He shook his head.
"No, you won't. You don't know who you're dealing with, and there are things we need to conver—" he gurgled, choking on his own blood.
The Merchant beside him let out a scream, shocked by the brutality with which my dagger pierced his ally's neck.