Chapter Five – Beneath the Cypress
719 Words
The cemetery lay at the edge of the bayou—half-swallowed by vines, shrouded in mist, and older than the city itself. Iron gates groaned as Aiden pushed them open, and Celeste hesitated at the threshold, her pendant heavy against her chest.
“This place feels…” she began.
“Different?” he said, stepping in beside her. “That’s because it is. Old magic lingers here. Not all of it friendly.”
She followed him in, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots loud in the quiet. Graves rose like crooked teeth, some broken, others leaning toward each other as if sharing secrets. Cypress trees towered overhead, dripping moss like curtains between worlds.
“Why here?” she asked.
“Your mother didn’t want to be found,” Aiden replied. “But the wolves knew her. Some feared her. Others followed her. She was... something in between.”
Celeste swallowed. “What was she?”
Aiden paused at a grave near the center of the clearing. No headstone. Just a slab of stone, worn smooth by rain and time.
“She was one of us,” he said softly. “And not.”
Celeste frowned. “You said she wasn’t fully human. What does that mean?”
“She carried the blood of both. Wolf and witch. That’s rare. And dangerous.” He turned to face her. “Your pendant—moonforged silver—was made to bind what she couldn’t control.”
Celeste stepped closer to the grave. The moment her fingers brushed the stone, a chill raced up her arm. Her vision blurred. The world shifted.
And then—she saw.
Not with her eyes, but with something deeper.
A woman in white, barefoot beneath a bloodred moon. Her long hair whipped by wind. She was standing here, over this same grave, whispering a chant in a language Celeste didn’t recognize. Behind her, wolves circled—guarding, watching. One stepped forward—tall, silver-eyed.
Aiden.
Celeste gasped and stumbled back. Her knees hit the dirt.
Aiden caught her. “What did you see?”
She stared at him, breathless. “You were there.”
He was quiet for a moment. “That night… I was part of her guard. I was only seventeen. She asked us to bury something with her. Something powerful.”
Celeste’s hand clenched around the pendant. “Is that what they want now? What the rogues are after?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe they want you. If she passed it on, even unknowingly, you might be more than just a witness.”
Celeste stood and placed her hands on the grave again. This time, the stone warmed under her touch.
“What are you doing?” Aiden asked.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s like... my blood remembers something I don’t.”
A soft hum began to rise from the earth. A pale light glowed from the cracks in the stone. Then—crack.
The stone split.
Aiden stepped in front of her instinctively as dust billowed up, but she pushed past him.
There, beneath the stone, was a box.
Wooden, charred, wrapped in chains of silver.
Aiden’s breath caught. “That’s it. That’s what she hid.”
Celeste reached down. The moment her fingers brushed the box, a searing pain shot through her palm. She cried out—but didn’t let go.
Instead, the pain gave way to something else.
A memory not her own.
Her mother’s voice.
“If you're hearing this, mon cœur, then they’ve come for you too. You carry my gift—and my curse. Trust no one but the wolves. Especially the one with the eyes of silver.”
Celeste fell back, panting. The box remained untouched.
Aiden knelt beside her. “What did you hear?”
She looked at him, voice hoarse. “She knew. She knew they’d come for me. And she trusted you.”
Aiden nodded slowly. “Then we need to protect what she left behind. And we need to run.”
Celeste stood, heart pounding, wind rising through the trees like a warning howl.
“Why?”
Aiden looked back toward the road. “Because they’ve already found us.”
From the trees, eyes gleamed in the shadows.
Not friendly.
Not wolves.
Rogues.
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- Writer
