Page 64 of Dark Bonds

Bishop turns to me, scanning the rows. I can see the tension in his eyes as he looks at the shelves, but it’s gone when he turns to me. “We start with what we know,” he says, his tone authoritative yet reassuring. “The book we’re looking for,Shadows of the Ancients,is older than most of the texts here. We need to approach this methodically.”

I can’t help but smirk, a touch of my usual sass returning. “That narrows it down to about… everything in this basement?”

Dorian’s lips twitch. “Your wit remains intact, Francesca. Perhaps we should divide and conquer. Efficiency is key in a search of this magnitude.”

As we spread out among the stacks, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re on the cusp of something big. The shadows at my feet seem to agree, stretching and twisting with anticipation.

I pause at a particularly old section. The books here are practically crumbling. My fingers hover over a tome, its titlefaded beyond recognition. As I pull it from the shelf, a cloud of dust erupts, tickling my nose.

“Hey,” I call out, my voice echoing in the silence. “I think I found something interesting.”

Bishop and Dorian are at my side in an instant, their presence both comforting and unsettling. As I open the book, the scent of age and secrets wafts up, tickling my nose until I have to release a sneeze.

As I open the book, the musty scent of ancient knowledge envelops us. The pages are brittle, threatening to crumble under my touch, but the text is still legible. My eyes widen as I begin to read aloud, my voice growing stronger with each word.

“In the shadows of our realm, power flows not from brute strength, but from the deep wells of dark feminine energy. Our packs, the foundation of our society, are built upon this sacred truth.”

Bishop leans in closer, his breath warm on my neck. “This is… unexpected,” he murmurs, his usual composure tinged with a hint of excitement.

I continue reading. “The matriarch, chosen by the dark goddess herself, gathers her protectors. These men, bound by loyalty and love, form a circle of strength around her. It is through her that the pack finds its true power.”

Dorian’s intense gaze meets mine, his eyes gleaming with awe and intrigue. “The dark goddess,” he says, his voice low and charged with energy. “I’ve heard whispers, but never anything concrete. There’s poetry to this revelation, isn’t there? We’ve been living in a world of shadows, unaware of the true depths of our own history.”

My fingers trace the faded illustration on the page—a woman surrounded by shadowy figures, her hands raised in what looks like supplication or command. The image stirs something deep within me, a recognition I can’t quite place.

“Listen to this,” I say, turning the page with renewed determination. “The dark goddess, Nyx, keeper of shadows and secrets, bestowed upon her daughters the gift of shadow manipulation. It is through this gift that the matriarch guides her pack, balancing the darkness and light within each member.”

Bishop’s brow furrows, his mind clearly racing. “This goes against everything we’ve been taught. The shadow realm has always been portrayed as patriarchal. From an anthropological perspective, this could rewrite our entire understanding of shadow society.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” I muse, realization dawning on me. “Someone wanted this forgotten. But why? And how do we uncover the truth?”

As I delve deeper into the text, the story unfolds. Nyx, the primordial goddess of night, gifted her daughters with the ability to harness the shadows. These women became the first shadow shifters, their power rooted in the raw, untamed energy of creation itself. They formed packs, choosing men who would complement and amplify their abilities.

They formed bonds through a bite from the matriarch of the pack, balancing their powers.

“It says here that the balance between the matriarch and her pack was crucial,” I explain, my voice hushed with reverence. “The men provided protection and stability, while the matriarch channeled the goddess’s power, guiding the pack through the ever-shifting shadows of our world.”

Dorian’s hand brushes mine as he leans in to see the text, his touch sending a jolt through me. “This could explain why your powers are so… unique, Francesca,” he says, his voice intense and focused. “If what this book says is true, then you might be tapping into something far more ancient and powerful than we realized. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating, isn’t it?”

His words send a chill down my back. Could this be the reason for my unique abilities and heightened connection to the shadows?

Also, doesn’t this mean all shadow shifter women are special? They just have to reconnect with the divine feminine.

“But how did we forget?” Bishop asks, his tone tinged with frustration, yet he still maintains his calm demeanor. “How does an entire society just lose touch with its origins? The implications for our cultural evolution are staggering.”

I flip through more pages, scanning for answers. “Here,” I say, pointing to a passage near the end. “It mentions a great schism. Centuries ago, a group of male shadow shifters, threatened by the power of the matriarchs, began to suppress this knowledge. They rewrote our history, burying the truth of the dark goddess and the true nature of our packs.”

The weight of this revelation settles over us like a heavy cloak. The silence in the library seems to deepen, as if the shadows are holding their breath.

“Hmm…” Dorian taps the next page. “Single pairings were implemented more. This explains why packs aren’t always created like my parents’.”

“This changes everything,” Bishop says softly, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of wonder and uncertainty. “They gave us bits of truth, just not the entire truth.”

Dorian nods. “The woman has always been the one to build the pack, but that was all that was ever taught.”

I nod, my mind racing with the implications. “If this is true, then we’ve been operating on a lie for generations. The way we form packs and understand our powers… it’s all based on a distorted version of our history.”

I might be learning all of this for the first time, but so are they. Their entire world was an illusion, and as I look fromDorian to Bishop, I can see that understanding in the haunted look of their eyes.

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