The Village Chapel
278 Words
Kael didn’t answer.
Because neither of them liked what that might mean.
Later that afternoon, Aria found herself standing in the oldest building in Blackridge.
The village chapel.
Dust floated through the sunbeams cutting across the wooden floor. The place smelled like old books and candle wax.
The village elder, Mara, knelt beside a large iron chest.
“I wondered when you’d come,” she said.
Aria frowned.
“You were expecting me?”
Mara gave her a small knowing smile.
“When someone lights up like a falling star in the middle of a werewolf battle, people start asking questions.”
She lifted the lid of the chest.
Inside were old scrolls and leather-bound books.
“Blackridge was built near these woods for a reason,” Mara said. “Long before the Silver Order arrived.”
Aria stepped closer.
“What reason?”
The elder carefully opened one of the oldest books.
The pages were yellow and fragile.
On the first page was a drawing.
A human figure standing beneath a glowing moon.
Silver light radiated from their chest.
Aria’s breath caught.
“That’s… exactly what happened to me.”
Mara nodded.
“Yes.”
She turned the page.
The next illustration showed wolves kneeling before the same glowing figure.
Aria raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, that part seems unlikely.”
“Not if the stories are true.”
Aria folded her arms.
“Which stories?”
Mara pointed to the text beneath the drawing.
“The Moonborn were said to carry the heart of the moon itself. They weren’t hunters… and they weren’t wolves.”
“So what were they?”
“Something in between.”
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