THE LAST SONG OF GRIMMOOR

THE MISSING PAGE

Book One: Moon & Blood

Chapter Four: The Missing Page

Three days passed after the vampires left. Kai did not burn any pies. He did not train. He sat in his room and thought.

His father knew something about the creature. That much was clear. But Theron would not talk, and Kai could not force him. A king does not answer to his son.

So Kai decided to find out another way.

The library of Highfang was old and dusty. Most wolves could not read, but Kai had learned as a pup from Grella, who had learned from a witch long ago. He pulled books from the shelves, histories, battle records, old maps. He looked for anything about the creature, about the sealed realm, about why it had never come close to Grimmoor.

Nothing.

It was as if someone had scrubbed the records clean.

On the third night, Kael found him asleep on a pile of books.

“You look terrible,” Kael said.

“I feel worse.” Kai rubbed his eyes. “There’s nothing here. Not a single mention of the creature. No name, no description, nothing.”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place,” Kael said.

Kai looked up. “What do you mean?”

“My grandmother used to tell stories. She said there was a great fire in Highfang a hundred years ago. The east wing burned for three days. Many old records were lost.”

“A fire?”

“That’s what they said.” Kael shrugged. “But my grandmother also said the fire started in the king’s study. And no one was allowed to go near it after.”

Kai stood. “The east wing. Where my father’s old chambers are.”

“The ones he sealed off.”

“Show me.”

The east wing was dark and cold. Dust covered the floor. The door to the old study was locked with a heavy iron chain. Kai grabbed the chain and pulled. It snapped like dry twigs.

“The guards will hear,” Kael whispered.

“Let them.”

Kai pushed the door open. Inside, the room was black with soot. Bookshelves stood empty. But in the corner, half-hidden under a fallen beam, was a small wooden chest. It was not burned.

Kai lifted the beam and pulled out the chest. It was locked, but he broke the lock with his thumb.

Inside lay a single book ,old, bound in cracked leather. Its cover had no title. Kai opened it.

The pages were blank.

All except one.

Near the middle, a single page had been left untouched. The handwriting was old, shaky, written in faded black ink. Kai read it slowly.

“The creature that hunts hearts was not born a monster. He was made. His mother was a vampire. His father was a…”

The sentence stopped. The rest of the page was torn away. A jagged edge remained, as if someone had ripped it out in haste.

Kai flipped forward. Nothing. Backward. Nothing. Only that one half‑page remained.

“What does it say?” Kael asked.

Kai read aloud: “The creature that hunts hearts was not born a monster. He was made. His mother was a vampire. His father was a…” He held up the torn edge. “The rest is missing.”

Kael’s face went pale. “Someone didn’t want that read.”

“Someone burned the rest of the book.” Kai closed the cover. “But why leave this one page?”

They both stared at the torn edge.

Then Kai heard it. A soft footstep in the corridor outside.

He blew out the candle.

Silence.

The footsteps stopped.

Kai put his hand over Kael’s mouth. They waited. The dust settled. The cold crept in.

Then a whisper came through the c***k in the door.

“The Alpha heir should not be here.”

Kai’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice. It was Jorrik, the captain of the guard. His father’s most loyal man.

“Leave the book,” Jorrik whispered. “Leave the room. Forget what you saw. Or I will tell the king.”

Kai did not move.

The door creaked open.

Jorrik stood in the doorway, his scarred face half‑lit by the moonlight. In his hand, a dagger.

“Last chance, boy.”

Kai tucked the book into his belt and stood.

“Tell my father,” he said. “I want him to know I’m looking.”

He walked past Jorrik without flinching.

Behind him, he heard the captain sigh. Then the soft sound of a dagger being sheathed.

Kai did not look back.

But he felt the torn page pressed against his chest.

And he wondered: who tore it? And what was the father?