Page 216 of The Moonborn's Curse

They crested a low ridge, and the township unfolded below them.

Smaller than Vargrheim. Narrower paths. Fewer buildings.

But what struck her was the silence.

No pups ran in half-shifted forms, chasing each other through alleyways. No birds chirped. No squirrels skittered across the rooftops. There was no scent of cooking, no clatter of training gear, no rhythmic pounding of running feet.

The trees around the clearing were bare, grey fingers clawing at a white sky.

Eyes peered at her from behind closed shutters—small, frightened. A hand pulled one child in quickly before the wooden slat clicked shut with a soft snick. They moved through it in silence, the guards unbothered. Seren caught glimpses—more eyes watching fromwithin the dark, small faces behind shuttered windows of buildings that leaned with rot and age. One tiny pair of hands was quickly pulled away from a window. A door closed with a soft click.

And they pressed on, deeper into the bones of Starnheim.

Into the long shadow Lilja called home.

Even the longhouse was different.

Built from blackened stone, it loomed like a mausoleum. Its fireplace was long dead, dark soot trailing up the chimney like a wound. To one side, Seren caught a pile of what she first thought were animal bones—until she saw a hound gnawing on a charred femur. And beside it, a skull.

Human.

Her knees weakened, but they shoved her forward.

They led her around the back, to a staircase that descended into the earth. The stone corridor was lined with thick, rusting iron doors. Small eyeholes had been scratched out of each one, and from within came the sound of moaning. Screams. Begging. Wet sobs. The air was thick with the coppery sting of blood and the stench of mildew and unwashed skin.

They dragged her to the last door and flung it open.

The room was small. Stone walls. A low table. Chains hanging unused from the far corner. They shoved her in. She landed hard on her knees.

Lilja entered moments later, her gait unnaturally smooth like she was floating. Highclaw Steine followed behind her—hulking, silent.

The door slammed shut with a metallic finality.

Lilja stared at Seren for a long moment before striking a match and lighting a lamp. The flame bloomed golden, flickering shadows up the wall.

"Little witchling," she said at last, her voice syrupy. "You must have questions."

Seren remained on the floor, chest rising and falling fast.

"You're a pretty little thing," Lilja continued, pacing lazily. "But not as pretty as me, wouldn't you say, my love?"

Steine grunted. His eyes were unfocused, lost in some place behind the present.

Lilja smiled. "He's not much for words. This realm... his mouth struggles here."

Seren swallowed. She asked in a small voice. "Are you going to kill me?"

Chapter 83

The words came out tight. Small.Terrified.

Lilja's eyes gleamed with malice.

"Oh, darling," she said, crouching just slightly. "That's better. Fear becomes you."

She stood and smoothed her tunic. The pendant on her neck caught the light—twisting, intricate, wrong.

"All will be revealed in time," she said sweetly. "Why don't you sit back and watch the show..."

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