Page 37 of Full Moon
“Torben? Mind ripping it away?” Feray looks at Torben, her voice calm yet commanding.
He looks taken aback, hesitating as he gazes at the craftsmanship of the bookshelves, obviously made by her father’s hands. “It’s your father’s study,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a reluctant reverence.
“Please do it. My shift isn’t strong enough to do it herself,” she says, closing the distance between them. Her plea carries a weight that makes Torben’s hesitation vanish.
Reluctantly, Torben moves forward, and we watch his hands and arms shift. His bear's claws sink into the wood like a knife into butter. The sound of the wood snapping and cracking under his strength echoes in the room. We watch as the shelves splinter and fall apart under his hands, the entire section of the bookcase coming free of the wall. Behind it stands a carved door. On the right side, there is an ornate brass lock with no doorknob.
All eyes move to Feray, and we watch her anxiously. A sheen of frost coats the tips of her long hair. Her wolf’s tail extends and sways behind her, a silent testament to her anxiety. Feray’s face remains an unreadable mask as she closes the distance between her and the door. But the twitching of her tail screams a warning:Stay back. Don’t disturb. We’re scared.All three could be what the twitching means. None of us are brave enough to find out.
I move closer to the lock, staring at it intently, willing it to open on its own. Stepping up behind Feray, I rest my hands on her hips, offering my silent support. She turns, looking up and over her shoulder at me. She smiles, nodding, understanding why I’m here with her. Her hand extends out, sinking the key into the lock and turning it. The whirl of the mechanism within the lock moves, followed by a loud click as it disengages, and the door swings inward. The tunnel leading into the basement is as dark as midnight.
Feray looks back at Easton, who steps forward and peers into the darkness. Taking the hint, he lights a ball of fire over his hand, leading us into the dark abyss. Every step we take creaks and groans under our weight as we follow Feray and Easton down far deeper than I ever thought possible. This is no ordinary basement; an icy chill runs up my spine, feeling like the touch of death.
Scales skitter over my flesh as if protecting me, warning me of things far more dangerous than I could imagine lurking down here. Glancing over my shoulder, I look up at Diaval and see the plates of bone moving under his skin. He’s as uneasy as I am, which doesn’t bode well for any of us.
We finally make it to the ground floor, and Easton ignites all the lanterns in the room. My heart feels as if it stops beating when I see what’s in the basement. Dozens of extremely large fossilized wolf skulls lay on the various benches. Feray slowly walks between the ancient skulls and the notes beside them. Her eyes roam over each one, and I can see she’s studying them. Her intelligence is far beyond anything I could ever comprehend.
“Dad was studying my mom’s bloodline. These are from the last holy war the winter wolves fought in over a thousand years ago,” she says coldly before moving to the next row.
I follow her to the next row and freeze. It’s the edict requiring any mate beyond the first to be slaughtered. Generations of slaughtered additional mates. Feray’s grandmother on her mother’s side had four mates, three of whom were slaughtered. Children of the elements—the other three would have completed the star. Speaking of the star, there’s a drawing of the elemental star on another piece of paper. The child of winter and ancient blood, then the other four elements. The direct opposite of the child of winter is the child of fire. As the weight of this revelation settles on me, a mix of awe and dread courses through my veins. The implications of what we’ve discovered here are both staggering and terrifying.
I pick up the star and bring it over to Diaval, the cool parchment feeling almost alive in my hand. “This may explain why Easton’s bite pulses in time with Feray’s presence.” My voice is low, but it catches Easton’s attention, drawing him closer to examine the star etched on the parchment.
Easton takes the paper, and his face pales as he looks at it. His mouth forms a perfect O in shock. His eyes dart from the paper to Feray, who is moving gracefully across the room. He looks back at us and sighs deeply. “It explains a lot. Why I resurrected and grew so quickly. I am the Yin to her Yang. We are perfectly balanced and complement each other. Our power ebbs and flows equally.” He stares at the paper a moment longer before handing it back to me.
The implications of this revelation are staggering. I watch Easton as he follows Feray around the room, their combined intellect a force to be reckoned with. Together, they are a deadly combination, capable of unraveling the mysteries of the basement and the relics contained within. “What do we do now?” I ask, my gaze shifting from Diaval to Torben.
“As first mate, we give her as much time as she needs,” Torben says softly, turning to watch Feray as she moves through the space that feels more like a museum than a basement.
“As the second oldest, there’s a wealth of knowledge down here. We would be remiss to leave any stone unturned when it comes to our mate,” Diaval adds, his brow furrowed with stress that he usually hides so well.
I stare at the curled parchment in my hand, feeling the weight of our responsibility. “We need to arm her with whatever knowledge and weapons we can. If there is anything here, that can prepare her, we must use it.” I sigh, looking back at my bond brothers at my side. “She will have to fight again when we arrive at the Crescent Valley. It’s the seat of the Arctic wolves’ power.” A knot tightens in my stomach at the thought.
Training will become a daily event for us from now on. My beautiful, peaceful mate is one of the hounds of war. It was once written the winter wolves were commanded by the Wild Hunt. If that’s true, her sister may find something about Feray’s bloodline in one of the winter courts.
