Shadow of the Moon

Chapter 23

Estella

I was doing this for Lynx, for my mother, for my people. I repeated the mantra in my head, a shield against the grief that tore at my throat. I had chosen the Bresag form for this journey, its feline grace and agility a comfort in the familiar forest.

The thought of shifting into a Haccu, of feeling the powerful muscles bunch beneath my skin, the long, white fur flowing around me, sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't bear it. The memory of Astra, lying broken and bloodied in the clearing, was still too raw, too painful.

Unlike A-pa and Cyrus, Astra and I were born with a wild version of the gift. They called it Nyx’s blessing. We were able to take any form we chose, whereas A-pa and Cyrus could only choose one form. A-pa used the Haccu, his form a massive silver version of Astras and mine.

Cyrus had taken to the Bresag, a monstrous jungle cat who dwelled deep within the mountains in the far West. His form was solid black. Astra and I had always favored the Haccu, due to its size and ferocity.

Lynx, perched atop her own Haccu Nanu, kept pace with me, her silver eyes scanning the surroundings with a focused intensity. Proteus had protested our departure, his concern for our safety evident in his every word. But I had insisted. I could only bear his presence for short periods, the constant reminder of another life lost.

He was a good male, kind and fiercely protective, his loyalty unwavering. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a warrior's physique honed from years of training, Proteus was a striking figure. His golden hair, a rare sight in Tenebris, was cropped close to his head, revealing his strong jawline and the piercing intensity of his black eyes.

But every time I looked at him, I saw the fading puncture marks on his neck, the mark of his mating bond, a testament to a love that had been cruelly snatched away. The sight twisted a knife in my heart, a fresh wave of grief washing over me.

I knew Lynx felt it too, the constant reminder of our shared loss. She had been closer to Thallia, their shared gift allowed them to have a closer bond. Thallia had taught Lynx almost everything she knew about her magic. It was the same way that Astra and I had been closer to Cyrus.

The mark of a mating bond, the bite, was a tradition and was more than just a wound. It was a claiming, a branding of the soul, a visible declaration of their eternal connection. Normally, the marks would remain vibrant like a freshly healed wound, a testament to their love, but with Thallia's death, they were slowly fading, like a memory slipping away. Each time I saw those fading marks on Proteus's neck, a fresh wave of grief washed over me, a painful reminder of my sister's absence, of the love that had been cruelly extinguished.

Proteus, unlike my mother, had not succumbed to despair. He carried his grief with a quiet dignity, channeling his sorrow into his duties, his protectiveness towards Lynx and me, a reflection of the love he had lost. He trained tirelessly with the guards, his swordsmanship sharper than ever, his focus unwavering. He patrolled the shimmer with a vigilance that bordered on obsession, always alert, always ready to defend Tenebris from any threat.

But sometimes, when I caught him staring into the distance, his eyes filled with a haunting sadness, I wondered if his stoicism was truly a sign of strength, a testament to his resilience, or if it was merely a mask, a way to hide the pain that gnawed at his soul.

I thought of my mother, Queen Vega, her spirit fading with each passing day, the light in her eyes dimming as the memories of her beloved Rigel slipped further away. She was a shell of her former self, the vibrant, powerful Queen replaced by a grieving widow who seemed to have lost the will to live. It was as if she held on solely for my sister and me.

As we neared the shimmer, a wave of apprehension washed over me. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a cloying sweetness that clung to my nostrils and brought back a rush of unwanted memories. A chill crept down my spine, and the hairs on my arms prickled with a sense of foreboding.

I fought back the urge to look left, towards the clearing where Astra had been brutally murdered. The memory was still too raw, the pain too sharp. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the forest. I clenched my jaw, my hooked claws digging into the soft undergrowth as I slowed my pace. With a deep, shuddering breath, I shifted back into my fae form.

My simple black tunic and matching pants, a stark contrast to the finery I had been forced to wear while on the throne, offered a sense of freedom. I had removed the intricately carved wolf mask before departing, replacing it with a simple strip of black fabric that covered the lower half of my face. The soft cotton felt warm against my skin, a stark contrast to the cold, unforgiving surface of the mask.

“Is the mask truly necessary, Stell?” Lynx asked, her voice tight with annoyance. She slid gracefully from her Haccu's back, her silver eyes narrowed in frustration. “It's just us today,” she added with a sigh. “You know you don’t have to hide from me.” She added softly.

I met Lynx's gaze, my expression hardening, my jaw clenching so tightly that my teeth ached. I couldn't bear to let her see the scar, the jagged mark that marred my face, a constant reminder of my failure, my weakness. And I would never been weak again. That weak little girl who had let everyone who mattered be taken from her died that day in the sand.

Every time someone's eyes lingered too long, I felt the weight of their unspoken judgment, the accusation that I had failed. The mask was my shield, my only protection against the crushing weight of that guilt.

"You know why it is necessary," I snapped, my voice muffled by the fabric, sharp with a pain that Lynx couldn't possibly understand. I turned away, my gaze fixed on the shimmering barrier that separated Tenebris from the enemy, a physical manifestation of the invisible wall I had erected around my heart. "Get to work, Lynx," I said, my voice tight with emotion. "I don't want to be here longer than we need."

I paced restlessly, my booted feet crunching on the dry leaves and twigs that littered the forest floor. A path was already forming in the undergrowth, a testament to my growing impatience. I glanced at the sky, the moon already beginning its descent towards the horizon. The council meeting loomed in my mind, a heavy weight of responsibility I couldn't ignore. I had to return to the palace soon.

Lynx, seemingly oblivious to my growing agitation, sat cross-legged on the ground, her bare feet sinking into the cool earth. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed in concentration as she laid her palms against the thick, thorny brambles that formed the impenetrable barrier. A faint green glow emanated from her hands, her magic intertwining with the thorns, seeking answers, seeking understanding.

She was never as powerful as my mother or Thallia, but her powers were weakened two years ago. Her not finding her mate doesn’t help either. Only then would her powers fully recover and surge to her full potential.

"Anything?" I growled, my voice tight with frustration. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I could feel a headache building behind my eyes, a throbbing pulse that mirrored the growing tension within me. If we didn't leave soon, I was going to shift into my Bresag form and pace a trench into the forest floor.

"Patience, Estella," Lynx chided, her eyes still closed. "I'm trying to concentrate."

My frustration boiled over. "Patience?" I scoffed. "We don't have time for patience, Lynx! The council is waiting. Mother is waiting. And I..." My voice cracked, the weight of my grief and responsibility threatening to overwhelm me. I was tired of waiting, tired of hiding, tired of the constant fear and uncertainty that had plagued my life since the attack. I needed certainty that my people would remain safe.

Suddenly, the ground beneath our feet trembled, and a wave of energy, raw and untamed, surged through the forest. The trees swayed violently, their branches groaning as if in pain. The air crackled with magic, a surge of power that sent a shiver down my spine.

Lynx cried out as she was thrown backward, her body tumbling through the air before landing with a thud against the base of a tree. I gasped, my heart leaping into my throat as I rushed to her side. Her Haccu cried out as he also raced for her, nudging at her side to get her back up.

"Lynx! Are you alright?" I cried; my voice filled with concern.

But Lynx was staring towards the border, her eyes wide with shock. "Did you feel that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

A roar, deep and pain-filled, echoed through the forest, sending shivers down my spine. It was a sound of pain, of rage, of something primal and untamed. And it was a male voice; one I instantly recognized. But it was impossible.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I took off running, my feet barely touching the ground. I weaved through the trees, my senses heightened, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. I had to know.

I burst into a familiar patch of forest, the memory of that fateful day five years ago that started everything flooding back. The shimmer would have gleamed before me if not for the twisted gnarl of thorns and bramble now blocking my view. But there, in a small gap between the thorns, a single ray of sunshine shown through the darkness. I scrambled up, my palms splitting on the rough thorns as I hauled myself up and peered through.

There, kneeling in the blackened sand of the pits that were so familiar were two figures. One, his back to me, was hunched over, his body shaking. The other, his face etched with concern, held the first in a comforting embrace. I recognized the broad shoulders, the strong jawline, the gentle touch. Atlas. He was nearly the same as he was all those years ago.

My heart, which had felt like a leaden weight in my chest for so long, suddenly leaped with a surge of impossible hope. It couldn't be... could it? He was dead, he had to be. Right? He was so injured the last time I had seen him, nearly lifeless as he was thrust into that carriage.

The second male straightened, his head lifting, his gaze sweeping across the desolate landscape. He paused his nostrils flaring, as if catching a scent on the wind, and then, his eyes met mine. Amber eyes flecked with black.

Time seemed to stop, the world fading away as our gazes locked. An emotion I couldn't decipher flickered across those molten eyes – recognition? Longing? Something deeper, something that resonated with a primal force within my soul.

Kyros was the same yet utterly different. His golden-tan skin was now bronzed by the desert sun, his youthful frame filled out into the powerful physique of a warrior. He had been handsome before, but now, with the sharp angles of his face and the intensity in his eyes, he was breathtaking. His jaw was covered by the hint of stubble, adding to his intensity.

His reddish-brown hair was cropped close to his head so much shorter than I remember, the longer strands at the top falling carelessly across his forehead, partially obscuring a thin scar that traced his left eyebrow. The sight of him, so familiar yet so different, stole the breath from my lungs, leaving me breathless with a mixture of awe and longing.

It was him. It was truly him. After all this time, after the pain and loss, after the years of believing he was gone, he was here. Alive. My treacherous heart pounded in my chest for the first time in years.

His eyes drifted close, his nostrils flaring. It was like he was taking in my scent. He seemed to actually lean towards it.

"Astra was right," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my chest as if to ward off a physical blow. My breath caught in my throat, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. The world seemed to tilt, the shimmering blurring before my eyes.

He was here. Kyros. Alive. After all this time, after the years of believing he was gone, he was here.

"Estella?" Lynx's voice was sharp with alarm. She grabbed my arms, her grip firm but gentle. "What is it? What's wrong?" Her breaths were ragged, obviously out of breath from trying to catch me.

My eyes, wide with shock and confusion, met Lynx's. "He's..." I stammered, my voice trembling. "He's alive."

"Who, Estella?" Lynx pressed, her brow furrowed with concern. "Who is it?"

I couldn't speak. The words caught in my throat, choked by a mixture of disbelief and a burgeoning hope that I dared not acknowledge. I shook my head, my gaze fixed on the gap in the thorns. Kyros. It's Kyros. But the name wouldn't come, trapped by the sudden realization that bloomed within me, a truth that defied all logic, all expectations.

Lynx, her frustration growing, shook my arm gently. "Estella, you're scaring me. What did you see?"

My mind replayed that one word over and over. The word that had just altered my life forever.

Mate.

I remembered Astra's words, her playful insistence that Kyros was my mate. How had Astra known?

"Estella!" A voice pierced through the fog of my thoughts, an insistent tug that pulled me back from the brink. "Lynx!" the voice called again, closer now, laced with urgency.

"Over here!" Lynx shouted, her voice strained with worry.

The sound of approaching Haccu pounded through the forest, growing louder with each passing moment. Their growls like a rope tied around my waist, pulling me back to the present. Soon, Proteus and a handful of guards emerged from the trees, their brows furrowed, their eyes wide with alarm. They dismounted their Haccu swiftly, their gazes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

Proteus's expression was grim as he strode towards me, his long strides eating up the distance between us. He stopped before me, his gaze searching mine, his hands hesitantly reaching out to cup my face. I fought the flinch at his touch, my body still trembling from the shock of the barrier shattering, the reappearance of Kyros, and the realization that he was my mate.

"Are you alright, Estella?" he asked, his voice rough with worry. He pointedly didn't look at Lynx, who still clung to my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh.

My gaze darted away, unable to meet his eyes. I could only manage a numb nod, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and exhaustion. The events of the past few minutes had left me reeling, my mind struggling to process the whirlwind of emotions and revelations.

"We felt a surge of power," Proteus explained, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks, sending a chilling shiver down my spine, "and we feared the worst." The gesture was so alien for him that it had me pulling away from him abruptly.

“I’m fine,” I said, finally blinking.

His gaze swept over me, taking in my disheveled appearance, the tear stains on my cheeks, the haunted look in my eyes. With a sigh, he pulled me into an embrace, his arms strong and comforting.

I stiffened in his hold, my body resisting the contact. The scent of fading lilies, Thallia's scent, clung to him, a poignant reminder of the love they had shared, the life that had been cruelly stolen. The fragrance, once a source of comfort, now clawed at my nostrils, a suffocating reminder of my loss. I pushed him back, escaping the painful memories.

"We are fine," Lynx reiterated, her voice sharp with a hint of annoyance.

Proteus flinched, as if startled by her presence. I seized the opportunity to pull free from his embrace, my spine straightening, my chin lifting with queenly grace. I met Proteus's gaze, my eyes narrowed with suspicion. "How did you get here so fast?" I asked, my voice cold and sharp.

Proteus shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting towards the ground. "The council... expressed concern that you might not return in time for the meeting," he explained, his voice stiff and formal. "They dispatched me to... retrieve you." He still avoided looking at Lynx, his discomfort palpable.

My eyes narrowed further. Something was amiss. I noticed that the top buttons of his tunic were fastened, concealing the fading marks on his neck, the marks that signified his bond with Thallia. It was an unusual gesture for a mated pair, when such bonds were celebrated and revered. Even my mother, despite her grief, still displayed the marks of her mating with King Rigel with pride.

Proteus fidgeted under my scrutiny, his discomfort growing. He tugged at the collar of his tunic, as if it were suddenly too tight, his gaze darting towards the shadows of the forest. My suspicions deepened. What was he hiding?

"Proteus," I said, my voice laced with a warning, "look at me."

He hesitated, then slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting mine with a flicker of apprehension.

"What's going on?" I demanded my voice firm. "Why are you hiding your marks?"