Page 143 of Moonlit Fate

“Pack members from times long past.”

My heart raced as I scanned the ghosts. “My father?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Aria.”

I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed at his absence, but I didn’t have long to dwell on it. One by one, the ghosts turned to me, their forms wavering like flames caught in a breeze. They were there but not quite, outlines of the wolves they once had been.

“I’m Lorian,” said the first with authority. “I served as the alpha’s right hand and butler.”

“Elara,” came a soft voice from a she-wolf, her spectral eyes warm yet sad. “I was the healer.”

“Rath,” grunted another, broader than the others, his form almost solid. “I trained the young ones in combat.”

“All names I’ve heard in stories,” I murmured in awe. “You’re helping Seren?”

“Uncovering what’s been lost,” Rath replied, his ghostly form nodding solemnly. “Knowledge hidden away, waiting for the right time.”

“Your father kept these books for a reason,” Seren added, finally looking up at me. “These spirits are a part of that reason. They hold memories, confidences that can aid us now.”

“Thank you,” I managed to say. Centuries of history seeped into my very being, secrets clinging like cobwebs as I stepped closer to the spectral assembly, looking closely at each ghostly figure before settling on Seren. “Seren, how are these spirits so clear, so... present when I could barely see my own mother the other night? She only had the strength to stay for a few minutes.”

Seren’s eyes met mine, and she exhaled slowly, as if summoning patience from beyond. “The spirits we encounter have different connections to the physical world, which affects how and when they can be seen by the living. Your mother’s bond to this realm is not as strong as those who stand before us now.”

I nodded, trying to make sense of it all. “So some spirits are simply stronger?”

“That’s it,” Seren said. “Think of the spirit world as a vast ocean, and the physical world as the shoreline. Some spirits are like the waves that can reach the shore whenever they please. They have the strength and a bond to the physical realm that allows them to manifest at will.” Seren watched me, her gaze steady. “Other spirits, however, are like distant ripples in the ocean. They don’t have the same strength or connection. Often, their ties to the living world have faded or they were weaker to begin with. Spirits, like your mother, need a stronger call, something that amplifies their energy enough to reach the shore briefly. This is why I have to summon them specifically. They cannot come forth as freely.”

“That’s why she could only stay for a short time?”

“Yes,” Seren said. “The summoning takes a toll on both the spirit and the conduit. It’s not an easy bridge to cross. If she’d lingered too long, she’d have depleted you, which would have endangered you.”

Her fingers moved through the air, eyes half-closed as if she could touch the invisible threads that connected our world to the next. “When I perform a ritual, I create a beacon—a lighthouse, if you will—that guides them back for a while.” Her voice was so soft, I wouldn’t have heard if it weren’t for our enhanced shifter hearing. “Maintaining such a thread demands energy and focus, and even then, it’s only enough to sustain their presence for a short duration.”

I tried to imagine what kind of strength it took to pull spirits from their eternal rest. It was beyond me, yet I needed to understand these mysteries.

“Does it hurt them?” I asked, concern for my mother surfacing unbidden.

“Only if they are held here against their will, and I would never do that. The spirits that come, they do so because they wish to help or because they have something left unsaid.”

Her words were strangely comforting. I considered those we had seen tonight. “And those tied to the pack? What about their reasons for lingering?”

“The visibility and presence of spirits are also influenced by their purpose and their unfinished business.” Seren stood and arched her back, stretching her taut muscles. She leaned against the heavy oak desk that once belonged to my father, her gaze distant. “Some are bound by unresolved matters or strong emotions, which anchor them closer to our realm, making them more easily accessible.”

“Like chains?” I imagined spectral shackles made of regrets and last words.

“Yes. Others, freed from such ties, drift farther away, their appearances becoming rarer and more fleeting.”

“Is there anything we can do to help them find peace?” The thought of souls wandering aimlessly, perhaps forever, didn’t sit right with me.

“Sometimes,” Seren admitted. “Often, it is a path they must walk on their own. Our role is not always to interfere but to understand and respect their journey.”

I swallowed hard. “Even if it means we may never see them again?”

“Even then,” she said softly. “It’s the way of our world. The living and the dead. We each have our place.”

I reflected on everything she had shared, especially her revelation about the need to enhance the spirit’s energy.

“Did you... did you make it so I could speak with my mother?” My words trembled as they left my lips, the gravity of her gift sinking in.

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