Page 105 of Moonlit Fate

“It’s unlike anything we’ve encountered before,” Eldan said. “Ancient powers stirring... it’s not just about us anymore, Aria. It’s about the fabric of our existence.” His words were heavy with meaning, each one delivered with a careful consideration so unlike him.

I leaned back in my chair. The ritual had been meant to restore balance, yet the aftermath suggested a deeper complexity. “What did it all mean?” The symbols, the cryptic messages, were pieces of a puzzle meant for my hands, but it slipped through my fingers like water.

The group remained silent, lost in their own contemplations.

“Perhaps,” Atticus said, “we’ve inadvertently strayed onto the very path we aimed to avoid. The path of destruction.”

His words echoed in the vastness of my mind, striking chords of dread. I considered his implication.

I nodded slowly, the motion deliberate. “I fear you might be right.”

Had our wild love been doomed from the start? Was it simply another casualty of fate, a tragic footnote in the prophecy we were obligated to fulfill?

Across the table, Joren shifted uncomfortably, his face creased with worry. “What does this mean for us?” he asked. “Are we all doomed?”

No one answered, no one dared. The truth was, we didn’t know. The future was a mystery, leaving us grappling for answers that seemed just beyond reach.

Seren’s voice, when it came, was a whisper, yet it carried the weight of ages. “When the fissure opened, I heard the spirits,” she said, as though she were still listening to echoes only she could perceive. “They spoke of a shift. A change that has begun.”

I leaned forward, my fingers gripping the table. “What else did they say?” The words tumbled from me, urgent and demanding.

“Their voices were distant, ancient,” Seren said with an ethereal calmness. “Guardians of knowledge and history. They spoke of balance, of a war between light and darkness in our world.”

“Balance...” The word reverberated in me, a haunting melody that both soothed and alarmed. “Were they benevolent?” I asked, hoping with a hope I wasn’t sure I had the right to.

“Some among them were good, and some very bad.” Her eyes were clouded with the shades of unseen worlds.

“Where did they go?” My voice sounded small, almost childlike in my fear of the answer.

“Everywhere,” she said, her expression grave.

“Everywhere.” I pushed back from the table abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor. “I need a moment.” My head spun.

With hurried steps, I retreated to my room, leaving behind the oppressive atmosphere of the dining hall. Once inside, I began to pace, trying to quiet my racing thoughts.

My mind replayed the moment the Crimson Fang member had held a knife to my throat, the cold point a promise of mortality, and how, even then, all I could think about was Atticus. His face, his touch, his scent permeated my every memory, my every wish for the future.

He had become everything to me, and that was precisely the problem. He couldn’t be everything. Not if I was to lead my pack with the focus they deserved. Not if I was to navigate the treacherous waters of a prophecy that threatened to consume us all.

The love that enslaved Atticus and me was all-consuming, and while the heat of it warmed me to my core, it also had the ability to burn away everything else.

I had to do this right. For my pack. For myself. For the delicate balance.

This was all far too much. I couldn’t face Atticus and my pack without my father. I needed a break. My father had been right. There would be no room for half-measures, for lingering glances or tender touches. We would work together, but our desires would need to remain just that: desires. I couldn’t do it all, and the only thing I could focus on right now was my pack and my father. Grief threatened to consume me, but I pushed it aside and steeled myself.

Determination settled over me like armor. Descending the staircase was like walking through a thick, suffocating fog of dread. The manor’s grandeur mocked my inner turmoil with its silent, stoic walls. I had decided to do what must be done, but my heart was a traitor, pumping riotous emotions through my veins.

Atticus stood there, alone, at the bottom of the stairs. His imposing figure looked smaller without his family’s presence.His back was to me, but he turned as he recognized my approach.

“Hey,” he said softly.

I couldn’t find my voice. A dam broke in me, tears streaming unchecked down my cheeks.

He closed the distance in seconds, pulling me in a grasp that was like coming home and saying goodbye all at once.

“Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Atticus murmured against my hair, and for a second, I allowed myself the illusion of safety in his arms.

But illusions were dangerous, and mine shattered with his next breath. “I can’t be with you and be the alpha I need to be,” I said. “Not right now.”

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