Moon and Ashes

Chapter Eight – murk in the thoroughfares

Caelan Duskbane leaned back at the council president, claws resting smoothly against the worn oak table. His pack elders had been speaking in circles for the better part of an hour, voices rising with every blameworthiness.

“ A scout doesn't come back torn and burned without enchantment being involved! ” snarled Veyric, one of the oldest.

His argentine nib showed indeed in his mortal form, teeth disclosed at the memory of the body set up. “ They’ve crossed the line, nascence. Call the war, and we’ll paint their marble halls red. ”

Others growled in agreement, fists slamming against the table.

Caelan’s golden eyes narrowed. He let the sound swell, let their wrathfulness make until it began to taste bitter in the air. also, he spoke, voice low but carrying the weight of command.

“ Silence. ”

The word cut through like a blade. Every wolf adhered .

He rose, broad shoulders filling the dim hall, the faintest shimmer of his partial shift still tracing his arms — claws noway completely repudiated since the scout’s body had been brought back.

“ You speak of war as if it's a feast to be had, ” Caelan said. “ But what evidence do we have? Wizards are proud, yes.

Dangerous, yes. But reckless? No.However, it would not start with one scout in the murk, If they wanted war ”

Darius, his right hand, leaned forward. His eyes burned with restraint, though his fidelity kept him silent until granted leave.

“ Speak, Darius. ”

“ There are whispers, nascence, ” Darius said. “ Hooded numbers in the mortal quarter. Seen zipping between alleys at night. claoks too fine for common stealers. They call themselves nothing but their presence challenges of guileful magic. ”

Caelan’s jaw flexed. guileful wizards. The kind too arrogant for the Council, too savage for control. The kind that could enkindle a war briskly than any Council decree.

The others muttered, a many wrangle on the ground.

“ Dismissed, ” Caelan said suddenly, voice like iron. “ Leave us. ”

The council protested, but one look from their nascence ended it. chairpersons scraped, thrills echoed, and soon only Darius remained.

Caelan stood by the firepit, gaping into its low flame.However, the Council may not indeed know, “ If hellions prowl our thoroughfares. But if they do ” He shook his head. “ This is no war. Not yet. I’ll see the verity myself. ”

“ Alone? ” Darius lowered .

Caelan’s eyes flashed, wolf-bright in the firelight. “ A pack can not move unseen. An nascence must. I'll know before I act. ”

The thoroughfares of Veyra billabone of bank and revealed ale. Caelan moved through them like a shadow, cloak drawn, claws hidden beneath leather gloves. His senses stretched — the scrape of a charge on gravestone two thoroughfares over, the stink of blood long washed from cobbles, the faint hum of magic riding the wind.

His cognizance caught it first rushed way, lighter than a wolf’s tread. His nose caught the alternate silk cloaks, dusted noiselessly with sauces.

He followed.

At the bend of an alley, he set up them. Not hellions. Not cloaked numbers fleeing.

Three humans — or so it looked at first regard. Two girls cloaked, the faint shimmer of magic adhering to one of them like frost. And a man. The mortal walked in front, defensive, his shoulders squared in a way no pleb dared.

dubitation burned through Caelan. Wizards, moving under cover of night. And a mortal shielding them?

He stepped into their path.

“ Out late for little catcalls, are n’t you? ” His voice carried a wolf’s scowl beneath it.

The mortal man strengthened incontinently, pulling the girls behind him. The move was sharp, spontaneous — defensive.

Caelan’s lips twitched, half recreation, half trouble.

“ Stand away, ” the man said, voice steady though his hands gripped at his sides. “ You’ve no business with us. ”

Caelan listed his head, eyes glowing noiselessly gold in the dark. “ No business? I find two wizards wrapped in cloaks and a mortal guard in rags. Tell me who transferred you? What tricks do you weave in the thoroughfares? ”

The high girl — the one whose magic gouged his senses stepped forward suddenly. Her chin lifted, though he caught the earthquake in her breath.

“ We’re not your adversaries, ” she said snappily. “ Let us pass. ”

Caelan studied her. No staff. No spell on her lips. Yet power whistled noiselessly in the air around her. intriguing.

The man moved again, sharper this time, cutting in front of her like a guard. “ I said, enough. ”

commodity in Caelan bristled at the defiance. No wolf took orders from a mortal. He stepped closer, letting his claws slip free just enough to sparkle.

And that was enough. The man dived .

The clash was unforeseen and brutal. Caelan caught the human’s fist in one hand, surprised by the strength behind it.

Not wolf-strong, not indeed close, but further than utmost men carried. He twisted, shoving him back. The man rolled with it, striking again, aiming quick and sharp like someone trained to survive.

Caelan’s claws tore sparks against the gravestone as he blocked. The girls cried out, pressed against the wall. The man did n’t falter. He drove by low, landing a blow to Caelan’s caricatures that would have broken another’s bone.

Caelan snarled, fangs flashing. He seized him by the collar and slammed him back against the wall. “ Who are you? ” he growled, voice edged with wolf.

The man wrangle blood, eyes blazing. “ Someone who wo n’t let you touch them. ”

A gust of wind burst suddenly between them — right, unanticipated. It shoved Caelan back half a step. He looked up.

The girl. The bone

with the frost- suchlike air. Her hand quivered, but no staff, no chant. She had called the wind raw, with nothing but will.

For the first time, Caelan dithered.

Before another move could be made, murk danced at the alley’s edge — three hooded numbers sprinting history, blankets brushing gravestone. Magic burned noiselessly in their wake.

Caelan’s head snapped toward them, the scent of blood and witchery filling his nose.

Not these children. Not this human.

The rogues.

By the time he turned back, the trio was pulling away, the human dragging the girls with him. The one called by the wind glanced back once — her eyes wide, uncertain — before vanishing around the bend.

Caelan stood alone in the alley, chest rising and falling, claws still out.

Darius’ words echoed in his head. Rogues. In the streets.

And the girl — the wizard without a staff.

His jaw clenched. He had answers to seek.