Page 95 of Of Shadow and Moon

I tear my gaze away from him, the thought of Alexander not knowing what’s going on is enough to scare me.

The red woman towers over me, only barely shorter than the princes.

Her voice slithers through the silence, mocking. “You see, we knew you were something… special from the moment we took you from the cave.” Her smile widens, dark satisfaction oozing from her words. “We simply didn’t know the full extent of your potential.”

“You were just a young girl then,” she continues, her tone dripping with feigned nostalgia. “With that long black hair floating just above the stone altar, held in stasis for hundreds of years. Guarded by the oldest coven alive. But… for what reason?” She tilts her head, feigning curiosity, though her eyes gleam with knowledge she’s kept hidden, twisted into something only she understands.

My heart pounds; each beat a drum of confusion and denial. I don’t understand. This can’t be real. Her words are riddles, shards of a past I can’t piece together. My body reacts before my mind does, my nose wrinkling, my brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?” I demand.

A slow, knowing smile stretches across her lips, an expression too pleasant, too false. She clasps her hands in front of her and begins to circle me, her steps leisurely, predatory. I turn with her, refusing to show my back,refusing to let her pin me under her gaze. Her amusement only grows, her smile twisting with dark delight.

“You see…” She begins, savoring each word. “I passed by your location many times, feeling the pulse of magic radiating through the forest… and yet, I could never see you. Never find you.” Her gaze sharpens, perhaps admiration, perhaps jealousy, flares in her eyes. “The cave was hidden, veiled from sight, concealed within the jungles of Vizacoya.”

My eyes widen in shock. Vizacoya, the village nestled within the heart of the Dark Forest, a place shrouded in old magic, older than the gods. It’s said to harbor creatures of the night, magic as old as the realm itself. Even I, the Shadow Reaper, have never dared to tread there. The mere thought of it sends chills down my spine.

She watches me, her expression smug, sensing the understanding dawning within me. “Yes, my dear,” she continues, the satisfaction in her tone unmistakable. “You were there. Suspended in sleep for gods know how long, protected by the very shadows and magics that you now wield.”

My stomach churns as her words sink in, it feels like she’s peeling away a layer I’ve long buried.

She tilts her head; her gaze assessing. “And you have no idea, do you?” Her voice is a whisper, mocking me again. “You, the so called Shadow Reaper, the assassin feared across all five kingdoms. You know nothing of who you truly are, of the legacy hidden in your blood.”

My fists clench, nails digging into my palms until I feel the trickle of blood.

“Who… are you?” My voice shakes, but I hold her gaze, refusing to let her see the cracks forming within me.

She chuckles, a dark, chilling sound that echoes off thewalls, sending shivers down my spine. “Oh, you’ll know soon enough,” she says, her tone dripping with promise, with the weight of secrets only she holds. “But for now, all you need to know is this: I am the one who will unlock your true self, Selestina. I am the one who will show you what you were always meant to become.”

Her words strike me like a blow, a sinister promise that I don’t want to understand. But as she circles me, her gaze gleaming with a twisted pride, I know one thing for certain, whatever truth lies buried within me, she holds the key. And she intends to wield it.

A sharp snap rings out, slicing through the tense silence, and two Tepetl guards emerge from the shadows under the arched entrance. They drag a figure forward, her body limp, her face pale and still. My stomach drops as they come closer, and I can see her clearly.

They stop before the Red Woman, who stretches out her hand, her fingers tipped with long, blood red nails. She lifts the woman’s chin, tilting her head to reveal her face to me, and my entire body tenses, a violent surge of rage and fear flooding every vein. My breath catches.

No.

Not her. Please, no.

“Mara,” I whisper, my voice raw, breaking. Then loud desperation clawing at my throat. “What is going on? Leave her alone!” My voice trembles, splintered by fear. But the Red Woman just raises a single finger, a silent reprimand, and tuts at me as if I were nothing more than a disobedient child. The small, smug motion fuels the anger boiling within me, but I’m helpless to act, to do anything as she gives a twist of her wrist, and Mara’s body jerks awake with a sharp gasp.

Mara’s eyes flutter open, and for a brief,aching moment, her gaze finds mine, filled with terror and sorrow. “No!” she cries, her voice breaking through the air, reaching out to me, a desperate plea in every word. “Selestina, run!”

My heart wrenches. I try to move, to fight the invisible grip that holds me in place, but before I can even gather the strength to resist, the Red Woman snaps her fingers again. A sudden, overwhelming force wraps around me, lifting me off the ground. My limbs go slack, my muscles frozen, leaving me trapped, helpless, suspended like a puppet on invisible strings. I struggle against it, but no part of my body obeys, my strength useless against this invisible cage. I can’t move, can’t even scream. The only thing I can control is my eyes, and I turn them to Mara, pleading silently, begging her to escape, to run, anything.

But then, with a slow, creeping dread, I watch as Mara’s eyes fade to black. Her shoulders relax, her posture shifts, and I can feel the life drain from her gaze. She stands taller, as though her body is no longer her own. She raises her hands, mirroring the Red Woman with chilling accuracy, moving as though she were merely a reflection, a puppet bound to her strings.

The Red Woman smirks, a twisted satisfaction lighting up her eyes, and in an agonizing, horrific instant, Mara mirrors her expression, her lips pulling into the same sinister smirk.

My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat. The Red Woman isn’t just controlling Mara—she is Mara now, her every movement, every expression twisted to mimic the monster that holds us both.

The Red Woman laughs, a cruel, grating sound that cuts through me, and Mara’s laugh echoes hers. “I’m sure you’re beginning to see it now, aren’t you, Selestina?” Her voice drips with condescension, with a dark pleasure as shegestures to Mara, standing obediently beside her. “You’re not human, my dear. That much should be clear to you by now.” I roll my eyes. No duh, Sherlock, I’ve already figured this one out.

She watches my reaction with that smug, knowing smile. “But there’s one problem.” She turns Mara toward me, making her move with eerie precision, like a puppet jerked by its strings. “Your power wouldn’t reveal itself to us. No matter how hard Alexander tried to beat it out of you, to scrape it from your bones, it stayed buried, locked away.”

My gaze snaps to Alexander, desperate for any flicker of remorse, of regret, something that might make sense of this nightmare. But he stands there, unmoved, as if this moment means nothing, his face as blank and emotionless as stone. I turn away, the betrayal tightening around my chest, squeezing until it’s almost impossible to breathe. I knew he was a piece of shit, I just didn’t realize how much of my life was orchestrated. How little control I really had.

“That’s when we realized,” the Red Woman continues, her voice a low, mocking lull, “that you had a block. Someone powerful placed it there, making sure we couldn’t touch a single drop of the power you hold. All the beatings, all the torment… it couldn’t break through.” Her gaze shifts to Mara, and a sickening realization churns in my gut.

“No.” The word slips out, hoarse and broken. This can’t be true. I can’t allow it to be true. But the look in the Red Woman’s eyes tells me everything I need to know.

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