The Blood Moons

Chapter Twelve

Luka panted slightly as he bounced from one foot to the other. Strands of black hair stuck to his face, plastered in sweat. The sun beat mercilessly on his bronzed, shirtless back as he circled around the small clearing near the camp. The forest was oddly named Mercy Forest, given that he didn’t feel at any mercy at that moment. His lungs burned and his muscles ached, but still he pushed on. From across the clearing, the woman eyed him warily.

He eyed her equally as suspiciously. She was a panther shifter named Tora Deem, the same one to lead the group to his rescue during the battle. Just as wolf shifters bodies emulated their big and powerful counterparts, she emulated hers. She was tall and slender, yet muscular. Her skin was a deep black that shone with beads of sweat on her arms and abs. During the attack, she’d sustained a pretty nasty head wound across the left side of her dead. Despite the accelerated healing powers of her species, it was deep enough to warrant stitches. This prompted her to shave half of her head, leaving one side a soft black fuzz and the other in long shiny braids. Cold hazel eyes focused intensely on him, looking for some opening in his defensive stance.

Fast as black lightening, she rushed him, fist flying for his face. He quickly deflected, sending a punch of his own at her now much closer face. Tora hissed air past her teeth as she pulled herself short, leaning back just a moment before so that his punch landed short. He didn’t falter, though, stepping through his punch and lashing out with his other foot. It connected with a solid thud against her inner thigh, throwing her leg out wide. With nothing more than another hiss of air, she rolled with her fall and popped back up. Another heartbeat, and she was sprinting toward him. Her cat-like speed made her faster than Luka expected. She dove under his fists and wrapped strong, lithe arms around his waist, tackling him to the ground.

Luka growled deep in his chest as they grappled in the dirt, hands gripping and tugging as they fought for dominance over the other. Tora finally managed to sit up a bit, legs straddling him. She slammed a fist into his face and Luka could feel the skin on his cheek split open. Ignoring the stinging, Luka raised both arms over his head, protecting himself from the continuing rain of punches from the woman. He waited, subconsciously counting the punches.

Stop distracting yourself with this obsessive counting, Hawk growled angrily. You’re going to miss your moment and lose this fight! Luka knew his wolf was right. He mentally scrubbed the count from him mind and zeroed his hearing in on her breathing. It was hard and shallow, becoming more and more labored. She’s tiring. She’ll slip up, and you can make you move. I’ll help.

Before Luka could stop him, the steady rhythm of punches skipped a beat, and Hawk pushed forward in the tiniest form. He felt strength rush into his arms, and his tired and sore muscles flooded with energy. Not wanting to waste any of this second wind, he lashed out with his right fist, connecting with Tora’s kidney.

A mewl of pain slipped past her lips as she crumbled atop him, holding her side. With a twist of his hips, she was sent rolling off of him. Luka jumped up. He kicked out, landing another blow on her back as she tried to roll away. He had to admire her determination as she struggled back to her feet. Her face twisted into a wince, and she wrapped her arm around her side. He paused, giving her the change to yield. Despite her pain and her exhaustion, she continued to face him, chest heaving and eyes alight with anger. He sighed internally. The Goddess knew he was fading fast as well.

I need you one last time, Luka called to Hawk. Hawk merely huffed in agreement.

Let’s end this, he said, his tone hard. Tora made to punch, her movements almost sluggish compared to the speed she’d attacked with before. With the burst of energy and strength Hawk had given him, Luka easily dodged under it while swinging a leg low. Tora fell on her back, legs flying comically over her head. He stepped forward, placing his boot on her chest. She began to struggle weakly, so he applied a slight amount of pressure to his foot.

“I think we’ve done enough today,” he panted. Tora turned her brown eyes to him, fury flaring.

“You cheated!” she spat. “You used your wolf’s power to strengthen yourself.” Luka shrugged before giving her an unabashed half smile.

“This is a dangerous time to be a shifter, as you well know.” He lifted his foot off her chest and extended a hand to her. She looked at him for a moment, rage still radiating off her as she regarded his hand with distain. Finally, she accepted and climbed to her feet. He gripped her under her elbow to help steady before turning to address the circle of people watching them. He’d forgotten that they were there, watching and learning.

They were a mix of older men and women, young adults, and even some teens. One look at their faces, and Luka knew just how much they were already accustomed to the life of violence. He expected to see it on the more experienced shifters. But what shook him was just how many teenagers seemed unfazed. Despite his own personal knowledge, they were just another reminder of how horrid and dangerous life as a super was.

“The rules of combat have been obliterated,” he projected, his face grim. “If you go into a fight against one of the Blood Moon’s soldiers or their slaves, they will not fight cleanly. Especially if you’re against one of the sorcerers themselves. It will be as quick and as dirty as possible. If they overtake you, you can only hope they’ll kill you.” Some of their eyes darkened angrily, and he could see their pride flashing across their face. “Don’t let your pride, or especially that of your animal counterparts, keep you from doing everything possible you can. If they don’t kill you, it will be much, much worse for you. It’s kill or be killed, by any means possible.” The crowd began to mutter between themselves gloomily.

“Let’s call it for today. Tomorrow, you’ll be pairing off and practicing some of the techniques you saw today. Thank you all for coming.” Luka watched as they slowly left the clearing, some talking among themselves while most were quiet. It was going to be a challenge to get them all correctly trained. Though they had all been fighting all their lives, they didn’t have any formal training, and their fights were sloppy and desperate. He found that he felt responsible to get them all as best prepared as possible before the next attack, one he hoped wasn’t for a while yet.

“Alpha?” Tora said. He turned to see she was still standing beside him. One look at her and he could already tell what she was going to ask. He closed his eyes, waiting. “Alpha, wh-what happened to you?” Her voice was a whisper, and when he opened his eyes, he could see the pain on her face and the tears threatening in her eyes. It wasn’t a question she was asking for herself, he knew that. Still, he knew that she wasn’t ready to know that answer. His arms fell to his side as he sighed, the fatigue from the sparring match starting to crash down on him.

“Nothing good,” he whispered. She nodded sadly, her lips beginning to tremble.

“Do you think everyone experienced the same?” Luka closed his eyes again, letting the silence and his face answer her. She cleared her throat before gathering herself. “I think I’ll go find something to eat and rest. Find me if you need anything, Alpha Luka.” The quiet rustle of the grass let him know she had left, and he slowly opened his eyes again.

Strange woman, Hawk murmured. Who would have thought that our beta would not only be a woman, but not even a wolf. A damn cat is our beta! Luka chuckled deeply as he watched the back of his beta melt into the shadows of the trees.

Strange times call for strange measures. He retorted. We missed so much before our escape, Hawk. Alphas are scarce and packs of shifters of the same species are getting smaller and smaller. It only makes sense that the pack we—one of the remaining alphas in Vera—lead is about unity and preservation rather than species. That way, we will be large enough to fight back, to protect each other. Besides, diversity is a good thing.

Considering that the alpha and luna of this pack are of differing species, I guess that makes sense. When Hawk called Cyla “luna”, Luka tensed.

Hawk, we talked about this. She’s never going to be our Luna. She’s going to be with Dinasis. She’ll be his mate, like she always has been. That’s the end of it. Hawk growled and huffed in frustration.

So you say, but I know that that will never happen. She is our mate and she will be our luna. Luka sighed, too tired to fight anymore.

Let’s focus on making sure she accepts who she is first. These people need her complete and whole if they’re going to have a fighting chance. Hawk became dark and quiet, no longer liking the turn of conversation. Cutting the link to his wolf, Luka cleared his eyes to see Cyla standing not too far from him at the tree line. Despite his thoughts on mates and his worthiness, seeing her made his heart skip a beat and his mouth go dry. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as she took a few steps forward.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, stretching his sore arms. Cyla shrugged, crossing her arms across her body. She was uncomfortable. The feelings just being near him created, along with the constant crooning of Skyla in her head, made it hard to concentrate.

“The whole time,” she simply said. She looked around the clearing, marking the progression of disturbances in the dirt that followed Luka and Tora’s fight. “You two are both good fighters. I wasn’t sure who was going to win until near the end.” She looked at him briefly before looking at the spot that Tora had disappeared. “She’s very strong. And—and very pretty.” Luka laughed.

“Yes, she is a very remarkable woman.” He paused. Despite what he’d said he felt, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Does that bother you?” Cyla froze, eyes wide as she squeezed herself tighter. Did it?

“Well, I—uh,” she stammered. Luka chuckled again, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, it shouldn’t. She’s already mated. She’s actually my beta.”

“Beta?” Cyla muttered, her mind churning through all the information she had on shifters. But it seemed that the guild only cared about alphas, so they didn’t tell her about any other part of the shifter hierarchy. Luka noticed this confusion and continued.

“Yes, beta. In a pack of shifters, there are different ranks. There are the alphas, the betas, deltas, the gammas, the warriors, and the omegas. Alphas are the strongest of the species, usually becoming the leaders of the packs. The betas are the second strongest, becoming the second in commands to the alphas. Deltas are next, usually the personal protectors of the luna. Gammas are next, and they’re usually in charge of the warriors. Then, the omegas, the weakest of the species. Their wolves, or any other animal, are usually not as strong, and they are barely any different than a human. Usually, they do the things that the other members of the pack don’t have time to do as they are doing their other tasks: helping the alphas, training, etc. In my old pack, we didn’t care about the strength of an individual. We treated everyone the same, and everyone helped each other. Some packs weren’t as kind and mistreated their omegas, making them no better than slaves.” Cyla chewed on her cheek, digesting the information.

“And lunas are?” she asked, guessing she already knew. Luka flushed, avoiding making eye contact with her.

“Lunas are the mates of the alpha, usually working hand in hand with their mate to run the pack. Where the alpha is like the father of the pack, the luna is the mother.” Cyla swallowed, thinking about how Skyla had insisted that she and Luka were mates. Luka was an alpha. That would then make her the luna. Could she be a mother to a whole pack? Could she help lead them?

Of course, you could, Skyla reassured. Especially with Luka by your side. Cyla felt her insides twisting again.

And what about Dinasis? Cyla found herself asking, remembering the same shocks when they touched and the flutters she felt when she saw him. It was the same as with Luka. And just as Skyla insisted with Luka, Din insisted they were as well. Ever since the beginning of time. She put a hand on her head, feeling dizzy as she tried to understand it all.

“Cyla?” Luka asked, stepping up to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. Shocks and tingles raced down her arm, disturbing her from her thoughts. But it only added to her confusions, so she took a small step back. She tried ignoring his frown, but was grateful he didn’t push to touch her again.

“So then how is it that Tora, a panther-shifter, is your second in command? Your, um, beta? Do packs typically have different species in their ranks?” Luka shook his head.

“Unless they happened to be mates, usually we stick to our own species within a pack. Here in this camp, we aren’t officially a pack or anything, but it helps keep things running if we have a chain of command. Tora is easily the next strongest from me, which makes her ideal for the position.” Luka chuckled, making Cyla look at him curiously. “I was just explaining all this to Hawk as well. It seems you two have many of the same questions and ideas.” Cyla smiled a small smile at him. She found herself looking at him for just a bit longer than was respectable, and she blushed again. She cleared her throat and looked at the ground, shuffling her feet a bit.

“I-if she has a mate, where is he? Did—did he die?” Her last question was so quiet that Luka almost missed the guilt that covered the words. He shook his head, pain on his face as he thought about it.

“You didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. He was captured by Blood Mooners long ago. I actually met him, dur-” he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I met him during my own time in their dungeons.” Cyla felt sorrow filling her instantly, and she suddenly found herself hugging him tight. He returned the hug for just a moment before he shifted awkwardly, making her release him.

“Was it bad?” she whispered. Luka looked down at her, but refused to answer her directly. He knew she would reject him as soon as she knew everything, and although he knew that it was coming, he wasn’t ready for it to happen now.

“She has it nearly as bad. You see, once you have mated and marked each other, it creates a connection between the two. You can feel each other's feelings and pains, hear each other in a private mind-link. Everything that has happened, and will happen, to her mate, she feels it. She feels his pain, she feels his despair. And if he were to be killed, she would feel that. Because when a mate dies, the surviving one feels that most keenly. It’s like half your soul is gone, and many times, their heart is so broken, they die soon after. They’re at least merely a shadow of themselves if they survive. As with everything in nature, there is always a balance. Together, mates are strong. Apart, they are weak.” Cyla’s mind raced. There was so much to understand. About mates, about packs, about it all.

“Tha-that’s a lot to understand,” she muttered exhaustedly. “I-I think I'm going to go for a walk. Thank you, Luka. For explaining everything to me.” She smiled weakly up at him before turning to leave the clearing. Luka watched her with a concerned look until she disappeared.

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Cyla’s feet churned effortlessly as she jogged through the woods. She was making a large lap around the perimeter of the encampment. Lap after lap she ran, her mind running nearly as fast. The hierarchy of the packs seemed easy enough to understand, despite the implications that came with being the leader. But what she couldn’t get through her mind was everything Luka had told her about mates. On one hand, to have someone who would understand her in everything, love her in everything, despite the fact it was a foreign idea to her, sounded nice. But the flip side of it sounded terrible. She could see in Tora’s body language just how much she was suffering underneath the surface of her strength. And it was heart-wrenching.

Forget having two supposed mates, she thought. If having a mate means that much heartache and weakness, I’m better off not having one at all. Skyla merely chirped sadly as Cyla pushed herself further into the woods. Maybe if she ran hard enough and fast enough, she could escape it all.

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Of all the cities in Vera, Tremena was the largest. And the busiest. As Tox James walked down the main road, the heels of his boots clicking on the cobblestone, he felt claustrophobic. This city was his city, the place where his family rose to power and fame, where the Blood Moons guild was based, and yet he didn’t enjoy being there. Ever. The buildings were tall and made from red-tinted stones. Many of the buildings loomed four or five stories tall, casting long shadows on the streets and people. Smoke came from every chimney, nearly blanketing the city under its cloud. At least the street lamps were fueled by the purple magic-fuel stones supplied by the guild. Maybe one day they would evolve to every home having them, so the sky might clear. Then again, Tox didn’t mind the shadow. In fact, he remembered how he preferred it as he skidded out of the way of a rare ray of sun that penetrated the smog. Shadow meant secrecy and power. Unfortunately, in Tremena, shadow didn’t always mean quiet.

From the edge of town to the center, the city was abuzz with vendors calling out their wares, parents yelling at children, and animals making every noise they could. Even now, as he came closer to the center of Tremena, and consequently the market, the crowd was growing, and the roar of people was reaching unbearable to his ears. He wanted to turn around and go back the way he came, but he kept forcing his legs forward. The guild was at the center of town, just off the coast of the Serenity Sea, and the head sorcerer was waiting for him.

He paused at the far side of the street, eying the crowd that stood between him and the front gate. A breeze drifted by, the salt of the sea mixed with the smells of the baked goods of the market taunting his nose. He contemplated sending an apprentice over to the baker for a snack as his stomach growled. Perhaps later. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself over the stones, narrowly missing a puddle of—something. He sincerely hoped it was just rainwater.

He pressed himself into the crowd, carefully avoiding contact with any of them as though they were riddled with plague. To him, they were all beneath him. He was second in command of the Blood Moons guild. The only sorcerer more powerful than him was his leader and head sorcerer, Mercotis. With a simple wave of his hand, he could send them all flying out of his way. Only the view that the guild was Goddess sent and the protector of the people stayed his hand. He felt a small hand slip beneath his cloak, suspiciously close to where he kept his coin purse.

Instantly, he snatched the hand, turning to find a small child looking up at him with wide eyes. The dirty little face quickly paled as it noticed the dual red moons and orbiting stars on the cloak. Tox sneered at the pickpocket, knowing that the child had realized just how close to death he had come. “Get out of my sight,” he gritted, releasing the child’s hand with a rough push. He fell to the ground while scrambling away as fast as possible.

Proud of himself, Tox continued through the crowd until he came out the other side. Right before him was a tall stone wall with a single gate in the center. The gate was a good ten feet high and rounded at the top. Carved into the deep red wood was the symbol of the guild. He paused for a moment, admiring the artistry. Over the decades, the symbol had changed, but he felt as though this was the one to stay. He waved a hand, the large red amulet that he kept around his neck glowing until it was a royal purple as he activated his magic.

Without even so much as a groan, the door split in half and opened inward. He barely stopped himself from running through it to escape the noise that seemed about to consume him. Just as quickly, the door closed, magically locking into place. The courtyard he entered wasn’t large, it was merely the central entryway to the three main buildings of the guild. To the left was a short building where they trained and housed their bounty hunters. To the right was an equally short, one-story building where they dined and gathered together. But the central building was unique. It wasn’t just a building; it was a looming tower. Atop the tower was a bright red stone, much like the amulets the sorcerers wore to harness their powers. This was where the sorcerers went to train and lived. Tox looked up at this tower in exasperation, knowing at the top Mercotis was waiting for him. He skirted around the giant stone sculpture of the dual moons and stars that stood central in the courtyard and entered the tower.

Inside, he immediately felt at home. It was nice and dark here, with only the stone-powered lanterns fixed to the walls every few feet lighting the space. Thick red carpets muffled his boots as he walked down the long central hallway that immediately led from the front door to a staircase. Though the staircase spiraled downwards, he took the stairs upwards. Floor after floor he passed, the living quarters of apprentices, journeymen, and the tiered. Then, the training floors where he could see the sounds of sorcerers practicing echoing through the empty stone hallways. Then the floors of the high-level sorcerers and then finally, the top floor. It was here that Mercotis not only lived, but it held the meeting hall where the head sorcerer met with leaders within the guild as well as the citizens of Vera.

In Tox’s sixty-seven years as a sorcerer, Mercotis had been in charge of the guild. He’d been in charge even decades before that. So, he had only known it to be that everyone came up the many many stairs to see the almighty Mercotis. But he was fairly sure that it wasn’t always like that. And as he walked yet another long hallway to the meeting hall, he wasn’t sure he liked it. He knocked once and waited. He knew it wouldn’t be for a while before the man would “deem” him worthy to enter the hall.

He settled into a wide stance to wait. As he waited, his mind wandered to the results of the battle. Their experiments worked wonderfully. And Cyla. Cyla was magnificent. Magnificent and terrifying. It excited him in a way that nothing had in a long time.

“Enter,” an authoritative voice called from the other side of the door. Tox inwardly groaned before pushing the door aside. The meeting hall was more lit than the rest of the tower floors. One whole side of the hall, the side that faced the sea, was nothing but windows, except for the deep red and purple tapestries that hung between the panes. This light conveniently showcased the rug that ran down the center of the hall. It showed the history of the Blood Moons. Or, at least the history that they wanted the people to know.

At the bottom was Belor, the founder of their guild, kneeling in humility as monsters of all types surrounded him. Then there was a light that shone upon him, a purple one. Next was Belor fighting the monsters, purple power shooting from his hands. Finally, it was Belor, standing upon the monster bodies, the grateful people surrounding him. Tox smirked in his mind. This was another trick employed by the leaders. Because now, whenever the citizens of Vera came to plead help from the guild, they were reminded of how much they owed them. This helped them feel even smaller than before, therefore putting the sorcerers at an even greater advantage to ask whatever they wanted of them in return.

Tox held his head high as he approached the dais on the far end of the hall. Upon the dais sat Mercotis, head sorcerer of the Blood Moons guild. Many, when they first heard of him, thought he was a frail, crooked-back man, covered in wrinkles and gray, stingy hair. Yet, despite his two hundred years, his back had stayed straight and strong. There were a few wrinkles about his mouth and eyes and, though his hair was white, it was just as thick as it had always been. His violet sorcerer eyes were still as clear and devious as always. Behind those eyes was the same cunning, greed, and power-hunger that he was notorious for. One day, Tox knew he would topple this man. He would lead this guild. But it would be a long time yet before this man draped in black, red, and purple would be able to be defeated. But he could wait.

“Ah, Tox,” Mercotis said in a solid, tenor voice.

“How did our little soldiers do?” Tox smirked, standing wide and arms crossed.

“A few weaknesses to tweak, but otherwise they did well.” Mercotis waited quietly. He regarded the smug look on Tox’s face, the look that said he knew more than he was saying. Impatiently, he began tapping the large ring on his right hand. It was nearly gaudy in size, with a red stone set into the gold band. This stone was like the stones all the sorcerers had, their totems to hold their powers. In these stones, they could collect energy and manipulate it into themselves. With magic, there was always a sacrifice. With the totems, they were able to keep the sacrifices from being themselves. Many kept their totems small or on chains about their necks, like Tox did. But, as though to match his ego, Mercotis enjoyed flaunting his power to everyone.

The silence drew on uncomfortably, the tap tap tap of the ring on the wooden arm of the high-back throne the only sound between them. Finally, Mercotis found his patience empty. “For Belor’s sake, speak Tox!” Tox’s smirk widened before readjusting his feet.

“Cyla Fillas was there.” Mercotis’ finger froze mid-tap. He leaped to his feet, stepping down the two steps until he was right in front of Tox.

“She was there? Our little phoenix made it back to her mate?” He couldn’t keep his excitement contained. His plan was finally moving forward.

“Oh, she did more than that,” Tox said. He sighed, his body finally relaxing a bit. He turned away from the leader, an unusual display of disrespect being momentarily forgotten as Mercotis focused on the information to come. “She’s magnificent. And more than we ever imagined she would be.”

“How so?”

“She can shift, sir. Into a great and beautiful phoenix. All black and fiery and regal. With an immense power we never predicted. She took out the remaining soldiers with merely a thought.” Mercotis looked at his back, stunned. Slowly, he turned, returned to his seat, and by the time he sat, his face was back to his customary wicked expression.

“She can shift,” he muttered. Tox turned back to him, the same wickedness in his eye as he nodded.

“Well, now,” Mercotis leaned back in his seat. “That’s interesting. Tox, make the preparations. Perhaps it’s time to bring our little phoenix back home.”