Blake
I barely slept that night. The voices in my head were louder than they’ve ever been but totally unintelligible, like they’re trying to scream loud enough that I’ll finally understand but can’t quite get to me.
The spirit of the castle in Veiled Valley lays out a large breakfast spread barely anyone touches. Aris, seated at the end of the long table in the dining hall, toys with a strip of bacon in silence, his head tilted toward the flickering chandelier. I’m sitting across from him next to Soren, who told me last night, when I found him seated in an upstairs sitting room with every single light on, that he has a thing about ghosts and isn’t a fan of this castle for that reason and is currently staring at Aris so intensely it makes me wonder what his deal is.
Aris nods to himself, then smirks up at the chandelier, which flickers again.
“Are you talking to that thing?” Soren spits, practically snarling.
Aris startles, blinking at Soren across an array of fruit and a large platter of scrambled eggs. “What?”
“The thing,” he replies, waving a hand around the room with a shiver. “The ghost.”
“The spirit? It’s not a ghost.” Aris stuffs a piece of bacon into his mouth. “It doesn’t like when you call it that, either.”
A rush of cold wind rushes around our feet, and Soren leaps out of his chair, growling, “I’ve had enough,” before stalking off, leaving me and Aris alone.
He sighs heavily, shifting his position in his chair, and serves himself another helping of eggs.
“Are you hazing your new brother-in-law?” I ask under my breath, and he smirks.
“You can’t fault me for taking advantage of the opportunity that’s been practically served to me on a silver platter.”
“You can communicate with it, then?”
His sharp silver eyes, just like Ryatt and his mother’s, meet mine. “Can you not?”
I eye him warily. This is the first time I’ve heard of anyone being able to speak, let alone hear the spirit of this castle. “What does it say to you?”
“It gossips.” He takes a bite of eggs, shrugging. “About the family. It knows everything about everyone.” Aris seems totally unbothered, like this information isn’t anything new, but it’s the first I’m hearing of it.
“You’re the only one it talks to, aren’t you?”
“What can I say?” he drawls with a boyish smirk, rising. “It likes me best.” He leaves his plate on the table and begins to saunter off but pauses, turning on his heel to face me again. “Actually, it needs you to go to your room and lie down.” He scratches his head, looking up at the ceiling like whatever entity inhabits this place is currently dangling from the chandelier.
“What?”
“It says you’re missing something, and someone has been wanting to talk to you for a long time, and that person needs you to… take a nap.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Not yet.” He winks then swaggers out of the room, whistling.
I remain in my seat for several seconds, scanning the room for any inconsistencies. The air is unnaturally still, like the entity followed Aris out, but then a chill snakes up my spine like a thousand little spiders, and I grunt against the horrific feeling of it, jerking out of my chair. “Fine,” I murmur, adjusting my suit jacket as I stalk down a hallway toward a dark stairwell. Sconces flicker to life, and air rushes around my ankles, leading the way. “I know where I’m going. This is fruitless anyway, given Maeve and the rest of the family will be here within the hour to discuss next steps.” I shake my head at the stupidity of the situation at large. There’s nothing that can be done besides waiting like sitting ducks for Hannibal to make a move.
I enter the tidy guest room where I failed to fall asleep last night. I drew the curtains back this morning, but the entity snaps them closed and dims the lights the second I breach the threshold. “Why do you only talk to Aris?”
Silence.
I shake my head as I shrug out of my suit, slipping out of the loafers I polished last night out of sheer boredom and the inability to sleep. “What are you?”
More silence–the still, unnatural kind.
“Who are you?”
A soft shudder plays over the room. The comforter on the bed pulls back, and something–someone–slaps my pillow, leaving an imprint, a silent but stern command.
Sleep. Not just rest. Not just doze.
“Sleeping isn’t something that comes naturally to me, even with my mate nearby. I don’t know what you want from me.”
Another ripple of air scurries through the room, disturbing the curtains. The voices in my head titter excitedly, somewhat frantically, and a single, intelligibility sentence laces through the noise.
“He’s afraid of what he’ll see, always has been.” Laughter follows.
I shake my head, trying to loosen what feels like a thousand beads stuck within my skull, and finally submit.
“I don’t have time for this,” I warn out loud, but the second my back hits the mattress, the comforter snakes up the bed, covering me to the chin, and a supernatural force presses… down… “HEY!”
Pressure envelopes my entire body. I find it hard to fill my lungs as the weight of what feels like six wolves bears down on my chest. A dizzying sensation sweeps through my system, rendering my panicked senses useless, and before I can even reach out through the mind-link for help… Darkness snatches my vision. My body relaxes, numbing, falling into a stupor I haven’t felt since Hannibal tried and failed to dig through my head. I’m swept away on a dark current, my body rocked into a forced slumber, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Hours, minutes, or seconds later, I wake up face down in a bed of moss. Fog snakes over my arms, which are sprawled in front of me. I cough as I fill my lungs with wet, chilled air and blink rapidly, trying to clear what has to be a dream. Fog is… everywhere. It burrows over an uneven landscape–a small valley full of gray cliffs and boulders. Dead, gnarled trees surround the clearing, and as the fog parts, I see fragments of what has to be stone pavers leading into a wall of thick mist that partially obscures a building tucked beneath the cliff, trapped in the shadows.
I have no idea where I am, but I do know this is a vision. There are no voices in my head. My powers are totally gone, useless. This isn’t real. None of this is real.
I ease onto my knees, panting, feeling the wet fog penetrating my shirt. A bellow of pain captures my attention, then two men fighting to the death burst through the fog, toppling over each other. It’s… me. Me–and a man I don’t recognize at all. Me… dressed in clothes that don’t belong to me. Me–
Not me.
Maddox drives his fist into the man’s jaw, ending the fight, then rises, turning his attention to the temple directly behind me.
Maddox is young. My age, or close. His sharp, dark green eyes scan the temple with fervor as he wipes his bloody mouth on his sleeve and takes off toward the entrance with a limp.
I look back at the unconscious man and rise, cautiously turning to follow the vision of my great-grandfather into the temple, but when I cross the threshold, I find myself alone.
Alone, but in awe of what’s laid out in front of me.
A statue is carved into the farthest wall from the entrance. It towers over the altar–carved out of what I believe might be a dark kind of marble–ribbed with white and silver against a sea of onyx. The Moon Goddess in Her human form looks down at the altar, one hand raised, the other lowered to where two massive, beautiful wolves are depicted, curled around her legs. The Goddess wears a diadem of moonstones spun around a central jewel–a diamond.
And I know that diamond.
I know this story.
This temple.
I turn and race back outside, but the temple door snaps shut, barely missing my nose.
“Do you know how long I’ve been calling out to you, angel?”
It’s a voice both young and old, male and female. It booms through the temple. I feel a presence behind me but refuse to turn. I can’t. I won’t.
“Do you think I have infinite time to scheme and chase you down? I gave you a gift, which you’ve proved unworthy of, which you’ve deemed to ignore–”
I sink to my knees.
“Look at Me,” the Moon Goddess says only feet away. “Blake.”
“I can’t.”
“Then hear me because this is the only time I will deign to say it. You must act before all is lost. You must let go of your inhibitions and your fear before you ruin my kingdom forever!”
“What will you have me do?”
“You are looking for answers as to why your family members are my chosen ones. It’s not that simple. My blessings were bestowed long ago. Fate has been on your side, on all of your sides.”
“I don’t understand–”
“Then hear this and remember, angel. Your gifts, your talents, are not of my doing. Long ago, during the time when the gods walked, I made the shifters my chosen people. I gave them this land, this cradle of magic and peace, and the others were threatened by my actions. They were threatened by the power and devotion my worshippers possessed because it was out of love, not fear. They created the fae in their own image–hatred, disgust, and greed. The war that followed was brutal. The fae believed themselves to be gods, so they were. They enslaved their own kind, ruined their own women, and destroyed the lands the Old Gods gave them out of the need for more and more power. I shielded my people. To the witches, I gave my powers, knowing I’d fade into insignificance the other gods couldn’t fathom. To the shifters, I gave my blessing that they would find their mates and feel my love through those bonds. The Firestones were commanded to protect my glorious kingdom, and they sacrificed themselves to do so, but the fae… remain. My veils have been broken. They will come and kill everyone they can’t enslave. I have worshippers on the other side, fae and shifters alike. What you’ve refused to see, what the stars have been begging to show you, is that war will not touch the Allied Kingdoms.”
Silence sweeps through me, through the temple, as my mind reels around what She’s saying.
“You want us to… invade?”
“You will invade. Tell your kings.”
I make the mistake of turning my head. I can’t help it.
A sleek, pure white wolf stands only feet away, her eyes glowing white. Without moving at all, Her voice laces through the air, carried on a phantom wind. “You will determine her outcome. Do not fail, because she cannot fail.”
“Wh-who?”
“The warrior’s daughter,” she says, and bright light explodes behind my eyes.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing?! We’ve been waiting for you for an hour!!” Maeve screeches as she pulls the curtains back, flooding the room with violent, midday sunlight. I jolt upright, panting, unable to catch my breath. “What’s the matter with you?” she shouts, furious, but then stills when she sees the horrified look on my face. “Blake? What–what happened? What did you see?”
“Nothing,” I rasp, sweeping my hair away from my face. “I–I don’t know. I don’t know.”