Page 157 of Moonlit Fate

“Guys, I feel like we’ve done this before,” Philesia said over the noise. Her weapons glowed bright against the dark, and she moved like she was part of the dance of the elements herself.

“You’re only delaying the inevitable!” one of them shouted.

“Delaying the inevitable?” I threw the words back at them like daggers. “What’s inevitable is your defeat.”

They circled, their eyes glinting with the fervor of their beliefs. “We have the best interests of the true leader of Lycanterra in mind,” one intoned, his voice almost hypnotic.

“By attacking me in a graveyard?” I countered, gripping my magic tighter. “Are you going to tell me who your leader is or do you want me to guess? Crimson Fang? Right?”

“Caius has chosen us, his most trusted soldiers, to sacrifice you. He’s given us powers to take you down. You can come willingly or die!”

He’d confirmed my suspicions. They were some kind of loyalist group from Crimson Fang. Some of the magic he washolding on to escaped. A disturbing, sickly green energy radiated from him. I readied myself to fight.

Philesia glanced at me. “Aria, go. Now.”

I hesitated. She nodded once, a silent command that brooked no argument. With a heavy heart, I turned and ran.

My feet pounded against the sodden ground as I fled, dodging headstones and sinking into the mud. I glanced behind me. Philesia’s magic flared, bright against the darkening sky.

With the sounds of battle fading, I thought I was clear of the danger. Then, a shadow detached from the gloom. One of the men lunged at me, his cloak billowing in the wind. I dodged to the side.

“You thought you could escape?” His voice was rough, scratchy, and his dark intent wrapped around me.

I responded with a surge of water. It slammed into him, but he remained standing. My fury ignited, and lightning streaked across the sky, a wild dance I couldn’t quite lead.

“Just hit him,” I muttered, but the storm was beyond my command.

Water swirled, rising higher as we lunged at each other. I dodged his blows as I unleashed the chaos of the elements. Water lashed at my ankles as I ducked, his blade slicing through the air a hair’s breadth away from my head.

“Give up, witch,” the shifter snarled, his eyes glinting with malice.

“Never,” I spat back.

Without warning, the shadows around us deepened, stretching and twisting with a life of their own. Atticus stepped from the darkness, his presence a sudden shield between me and my attacker.

“Atticus,” I breathed, relief fleeting as he surveyed the scene.

“Stay back,” he commanded, the shadows coiling around him like obedient serpents.

I stumbled backward. Shadows reached out, tendrils wrapping around the shifter’s throat. There was a strangled sound, then silence. The shifter fell, shadows dissipating into the night as swiftly as they had appeared.

“Let’s go.” Atticus grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the fallen shifter. We ran, the graveyard a blur as we hastened toward the manor. “Aria, reel in your magic. I can’t shadow-walk us to safety unless you control yourself.”

The flood was relentless. Water surged around us, turning the ground to a murky river that threatened to sweep us off our feet. With every step, I fought against the tide I’d inadvertently summoned, my magic unyielding and wild.

“Focus,” Atticus yelled over the roar of the water.

The torrent only grew stronger, fueled by a power I couldn’t tame. We pushed on, soaked to the bone, the village center looming ahead.

We emerged into what once was the square, now a devastated landscape. Buildings were half-submerged, debris floating aimlessly. People clung to rooftops, calling for help that couldn’t come fast enough.

“This can’t be me,” I whispered, taking in the wreckage. But I knew the truth. My raw, untamed magic had wrought this destruction.

“Stay with me, Aria,” Atticus said, his grip on my hand tightening. “We’ll make this right.”

I nodded, swallowing the guilt that rose like bile. Together, we waded through the ruin, seeking the safety of higher ground and the shelter of the manor, leaving behind the flooded remains of a village caught in the crossfire of a battle that was far from over.

When the storm died down,I surveyed the destruction of the graveyard. Water flooded our sacred ground. The trees that had withstood decades of storms and drought now lay like fallen soldiers, roots naked. Between them, tombstones were scattered, some lost beneath the muddy water, others leaning as if trying to escape their fate.

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