Page 103 of Moonlit Fate

“Can you read them?” Atticus’s question pulled me back.

“No, but they stir something inside me. A memory, dancing just out of reach.” Dammit! The answers were there in the weaving patterns of light, if only I could decipher their meaning.

“Whatever they are,” Atticus said, his hand finding mine once more, “they’re a piece of this puzzle. We need to remember them. For our future, for our pack.”

Time seemed to slow, each second an eternity as the symbols in the portal pulsed.

“Look,” I said. “It’s changing.”

Before Atticus could respond, the amulet in the middle of the triskele erupted in brilliance, a sunburst that blinded us briefly. The swirling vortex imploded on itself with a sound like the world exhaling its final breath.

As the brightness faded from my vision, I saw the symbols hanging in the air where the portal had gyrated with energy. They shimmered like a mirage, their ethereal forms an echo of what had been inscribed in the now-vanished amulet.

“They linger still,” Seren murmured.

Her words were unnecessary; we were all transfixed by the remnants of the ritual, the afterimage of those marks burned into our retinas and minds. It was as if the heavens themselves had left us a cryptic message.

“Remember them,” I said. “We must remember every curve, every line.”

“Memorize what we cannot understand,” Atticus agreed.

Then, dark, foreboding clouds rolled in. They gathered directly above, churning in the skies over the ritual site, their presence an ominous portent.

“Something’s coming,” I said.

“Let it come,” Atticus said, his grip on my hand tightening.

“Whatever it is…” I squeezed his hand, allowing myself to draw strength from the bond that tied us. “We’ll face it.”

The pack, my family, they looked toward me, their alpha, for reassurance. And though doubt clawed at me, I met each gaze with the fire of a leader born from necessity and honed by love.

“Prepare yourselves,” I said. “The unknown beckons, but we are not ones to shy away from its call.”

The clouds above twisted and writhed, as if provoked by my defiance. Yet, beneath the burgeoning tumult of the skies, we held firm, bolstered by the unwavering spirits of those who stood with me.

“Whatever secrets these symbols hold,” I said, “we will unlock them. For our past and our future, for the balance of all things.”

The sky answered back with a deafening crack, a roar of thunder that shook the heavens. It was the world fracturing, a prelude to chaos.

And then lightning struck, a brilliant, blinding arc of pure energy, its tip piercing the ground where, minutes ago, the vortex had twisted reality. The impact was immediate and violent, a declaration of power that shook my bones.

Atticus’s presence was as tangible as the electric charge that filled the air. He hadn’t let go of my hand in the tumult, a connection that grounded me.

With a sound like the world’s spine snapping, the ground beneath us split open into a gaping maw that threatened to swallow us whole. From this seismic wound, a monolith surged forth, its jagged peak tearing skyward. It stood defiant, a testament to the force that had birthed it, a new border etched by nature’s hand between the Silver Claw lands and those of the rogues.

“Is this our doing?” I said, half in awe, half in dread. “What does it mean? Is it a sign?”

“Or a warning,” Atticus said heavily.

The fissure mirrored the divide we now faced, a reminder that the way ahead was fraught with a peril I couldn’t navigate alone.

“Whatever comes next,” I said, the taste of rain sharp on my tongue, “we face it together.”

The lightning’s fury seemed to snap the trance that had held Seren, her hand landing on my shoulder.

“Aria,” she said urgently, “there are spirits from the beyond invading our realm.”

I turned to her in shock. “What does that even mean?”