Page 1 of Of Shadow and Moon

Prologue

18 YEARS AGO

It is Día de Muertos.

The two days in Tonalli, where the magic between realms is most potent, and the Land of the Living is shrouded in darkness. Where the people of Tonalli celebrate their loved ones who have passed.

The cave is hidden well within the Dark Forest, a fortress protected by a coven of brujas that are older than the gods themselves. Its walls are slick, glistening as though it’s damp with ancient magic rather than water. Runes are etched deep into the rock, written spells lost to time. It smells of earth and dust, like it’s been untouched for centuries.

At the center of the cave, a stone altar rises from the ground, and hovering just above it is a girl, no older than four, her body limp as if in a sleeping state. If her chest wasn’t rising in a slow, steady rhythm, she would appear dead, another soul lost to the Land of the Dead.

Her black hair fans around her face and shoulders, moving in invisible currents, each strand weightless and free, as though caught in water. Her skin glows, making herdelicate features radiate even though there’s no light. There is a protective barrier that pulses gently, holding her like a cocoon of magic. Marigolds surround her, almost like she is the goddess of death.

Two men stand just beyond the altar, their expressions flickering between awe and fear. She is powerful, more powerful than any other creature they have encountered. Even more thanher. They are cloaked, their hoods pulled low, but even the darkness cannot hide their unease as they look upon the girl.

“Are you certain?” one of them murmurs, his voice a low rasp barely loud enough to carry. His hand drifts toward the hilt of a dagger strapped to his waist, fingers twitching with nervous energy.

The other nods and tsks, his eyes fixed on the girl as though she might dissolve if he looks away. “It’s her. It must be,” he says, his tone is dripping with disbelief. “After all these years… the legends are true.”

“But how?” the first man asks, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting brujas to emerge from the darkness. “We don’t have long. If las brujas sense us here?—”

Las brujas de Heuliti Coven.

A rush of warmth fills the chamber. A figure steps into the cave’s entrance, moving with the grace of a queen. She is striking, almost otherworldly. Her long red hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Her robes are dark, but threads of crimson are woven through the fabric.

The men stiffen, stepping back instinctively as she draws nearer. Her gaze sweeps over them, holding them still with an unspoken command. Without a word, she raises her hands, her fingers splaying open, each one tipped with a soft glow, like embers about to ignite.

She begins to chant in a deep, rhythmic cadence that fills the chamber, vibrating the stone walls of the cave.

“Cualli yohualtica, in cihuatl, tonatiuh tehuatl.”

As she speaks, the barrier around the girl flickers, breaking across the protective field and cracks. The air grows warmer, and the symbols on the walls flare brighter.

The woman’s voice rises, cutting through layers of magic as easily as a blade through silk.

The shield around the girl shatters with a soundless pop, dissolving into a fine mist that hangs in the air for a moment before vanishing completely.

The girl stirs, her nose scrunching like she’s caught in a dream or a nightmare. Her chest rises and falls with a gentle rhythm, deep in sleep.

The woman lowers her hands, her gaze never leaving the girl. She doesn’t look at the girl with warmth.

“Hurry,” she says, her voice quiet but commanding. Her tone holds an edge of urgency. She turns to the men, her eyes sharp. She holds them with an intensity that makes them flinch. “We only have two minutes to get her out of here and tohim.”

The men exchange a brief, tense glance before they give a sharp nod and move forward.

Each of their steps are careful, afraid to wake the sleeping girl. One of them reaches out, his fingers hesitant as they brush her arm, breaking the spell of her suspension. Her body slumps slightly, her back hitting the stone beneath her, she stirs, but she remains unconscious, her breathing steady but slow.

The men lift her carefully, cradling her between them.

Her black hair spills over their arms, strands of it catching in the light from the magic still lingering in the air.

They move in unison toward the cave’s mouth. Theireyes keep darting to everywhere around them, fearing las brujas will find them. The woman follows, her gaze fixed forward, and her expression unreadable.

The woman lifts her chin, eyes narrowing, her lips pressing together in silent calculation. She raises her hand, forming a protective barrier around them with a flick of her wrist, shielding them from unseen eyes, from las brujas watching.

In the distance, something echoes, a warning carried on the wind. The men move faster, the girl’s limp body bouncing slightly with each step.

The woman’s eyes flash, her pace quickening. Her voice cuts through the silence. “One minute,” she says, her gaze fixed ahead. “We’re nearly out of time.”

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