Page 149 of Moonlit Fate

I closed the door to my bedchamber, trying to still my thoughts. The secrets tucked away in my father’s office added a new burden to my already full mind. Stripping off my clothes, I sank into the tub, hoping the hot water would wash away the residue of the day. It didn’t help. My brain simply wouldn’t stop pulsing with the memories, the revelations, the voices of my friends, and the intensity of Philesia’s lessons.

“Focus,” I whispered, but that only served to amplify my disordered thoughts. I took a deep breath in, an attempt at calm, but it was like trying to smooth the surface of a gale-tossed ocean.

Groaning, I got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around me as I padded out into the bedroom. I stopped short when I saw Atticus sitting at the window. The light outside was fading fast, casting his face half in shadow, half in a soft, orange glow. It made him look like he was part of both worlds—the dark and the light. My heart skipped, then settled. He shouldn’t have been here, but he was, and that was all that mattered.

“Atticus,” I whispered.

He turned his head toward me, his eyes piercing mine. There was a lot going on in those blue depths, stuff I couldn’t quite read at first glance. It didn’t scare me. With him, it never did.

“Hey,” he said simply.

I walked over to him, close enough that I could make out the individual tattoos trailing up his arms. Each line and curve was a secret waiting to be shared, and I hoped he’d share them with me someday.

“Were you asleep?” I asked, noticing his mussed hair.

“Nah, just thinking.” His voice carried a weight that was too heavy for one person to hold.

“About what?”

He shrugged, then took my hand. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” I admitted, letting the warmth from his skin seep into mine. Something about his touch always made the world seem less sharp around the edges.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I plopped down next to him, very conscious about my state of undress. “You wouldn’t believe what happened today,” I began, the words tumbling out in a rush. I told him about the ghosts that had whispered secrets, the ancient texts that seemed to pulse with life under my fingertips, and how Philesia pushed me past what I thought were my limits. It all felt like pieces of some grand puzzle falling into place.

Atticus was quiet the whole time, his eyes never leaving mine. He leaned in, elbows on his knees, completely focused.

“Sounds intense,” he said when I finally paused for breath.

“Intense... but amazing. I feel like I’m finally starting to understand my power. Like I’m not just fumbling around in the dark anymore.”

He nodded, his lips quirking up at the corners. “That’s good. Really good.”

His approval sent a warm glow through me. “There’s more,” I said, reaching for the worn leather-bound journal I had set on the table earlier. I held it out to him. “We found this today.”

Atticus’s fingers brushed mine as he took the journal.

“It belonged to Thea, my three-times-great-grandmother.”

He put his arm around me, and I curled into him in the window seat, the cushion soft beneath us. The connection we shared was more than just magic; it was like finding a missing piece of myself.

I opened Thea’s journal. My fingers trembled slightly against the old parchment, but I steadied them as I started to read aloud.

“‘Today we faced trials that tested our will’,” I began, my voice echoing faintly in the quiet room. “‘In the struggle, we found unity. It is this unity that will light our path forward’.”

Atticus’s chest rose and fell steadily against my back, and his chin rested on my head as he followed the words with me.

“Unity,” he murmured. “That’s what keeps a pack strong.”

“Or a family,” I added, thinking out loud.

“Or two people who care about each other,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I nodded, leaning back into his embrace as I continued reading. “‘Under the silver gaze of the moon, our pack thrives, united by the sacred bonds of kinship and the shared gift of our magic. Tonight, we celebrated the solstice.’”

“The solstice. That’s a powerful night for us,” Atticus murmured, his voice low.

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