Chapter 29 #2
“Aleksandr. Are you here to answer for why you’ve been away so long? How I’ve missed you, E’yonno. Happy birthday.” She extends her arms to gather him close. Her wrinkles soften with her smile. The silver wisps in her black hair are as whimsical as the extravagant blue overcoat she wears.
Hunching over her, he returns her grin. “Forgive me, I should’ve stopped by after the shooting. And before you let me have it, don’t worry, Solmuk’s got a big promotion coming his way.”
Axe encourages me with a hand to the small of my back. His touch sends a warm tingle through my body. “Vespera, I’d like to introduce you to the chief of the Tilaak and the honorable interpreter, Kismet.”
The woman offers her palm, revealing a blue spiral inked in the center. “Splendid to meet you, Vespera. How lovely you are. A vision of the stars.”
“That’s quite kind of you,” I say, clasping her hand. “I’m honored to be here.”
“Blessings to Tera kreta and Luni kreta,” she beams. “We are so pleased that the son of Petyr and Rose has finally found his match. Though I imagine the eligible girls in the village will be devastated.”
Axe brushes the suggestion off. “She is not just a match.” He switches to a language I am not privy to, the same dialect he used with Solmuk back in the shop. Tilaak vernacular.
The chief gapes at me. “You are human, no?”
“That, I am.”
She hums, patting Axe on his thick arm. “Might I have a moment alone with my new guest?”
“Sure. It’s about time I found something to eat around here.”
“Check in the kitchen, there’s an elderberry pie with your name on it.”
Watching him instantly take off, Kismet laughs with her entire body, the way my grandmother used to.
She has the same crinkles in the corners of eyes, too.
The sentiment warms me as she gestures for me to take a seat across from her at an empty table.
Others are strewn with fresh-caught salmon, waiting to be dried and processed.
“If his size doesn’t give him away as a wolf, then it must be the insatiable appetite.”
“You got that right,” I agree. “Insatiable and restless.”
“Ah, yes. Restless indeed. Without parents to console them, Axe often came to me in his younger years with his siblings to help make sense of their dreams.”
“Nightmares?”
“Sometimes, yes, but not always. Night terrors are fairly simple to deconstruct—skewed memories of trauma, battle, and shame. Given our people’s spiritual connection to the wolf, interpreters like me have a deeper understanding of their behaviors and their innermost desires.
Most dreams I interpret are woven with symbols that represent internal struggles between lycan man and beast.”
“How do you mean?”
“Let’s see, well, Demitrya was always the most straightforward.
Her dreams represented conflict with guilt, finding herself trapped beneath boulders, buried by rocks.
Being the eldest, she wished she could have done more the night the lifeless came.
Her father lived with the same determination—he believed he could save everyone.
She is Petyr’s daughter, through and through. ”
“What about Dominik?”
Kismet pauses. “He only ever came to see me once. I’m afraid it startled him.
His dream was rampant with chaos, anger, and something else .
. . I almost wondered if it was betrayal.
He was so young, yet his spirit ached with emotions that felt so far beyond his years.
Even after he fled my tent, I never knew what to make of it.
Only that his wolf was beginning to rage against him and that he was distraught by its possession. ”
Her words bring Dominik’s crooked smile to mind.
Something tells me that Kismet may be the only woman who’s had a good look at what lies underneath the calculated facade.
In a strange way, her assessment makes sense.
His mouth says one thing while his eyes convey something entirely different.
If you look there long enough, you start to feel as if someone is pounding their fists against a soundproof wall.
“And then there’s your warrior. In his dreams, Axe’s wolf dances with demons of fury.
Since he first learned to shift, he always struggled to suppress his wolf’s cries for bloodshed, demanding a violent reckoning against those who killed his loved ones.
By training to become the most efficient killer the province has ever seen, he thought that would serve his purpose.
Hatred is a terminal disease, you see. He has yet to understand that following the path of vengeance risks his soul.
Perhaps you might help him adjust course. ”
My brows knit. This is not the person I see when I am with him.
Kismet’s face softens. “Has he mentioned any other dreams to you?”
My mind jogs back to one of the first nights I spent in Lupine Manor. “He did, once, although it was brief. Something that inspired the tattoo on his forearm.”
“Ah.” She grins, sitting back. “Was it the raven?”
I nod.
“While the raven is a symbol used in many stories of my people, she is also an important figure to the wolves. In Annituk legends, the raven is one of the familiars of the Moon Goddess. Out in the wilderness, the two work as one to hunt. They are like North Stars, guiding them to prey, to battle, and to victory. As a boy, there was a reoccurring sequence in which Axe’s wolf would race through the forest, following a raven overhead.
The raven would lead him to a small cottage covered in night-blooming flowers growing on vines.
From the outside, he would hear a woman singing .
. . but it was always the same—he could never find a way in to see who was there.
So, each night the wolf stayed, listening to her enchanting voice, sniffing the flowers, waiting patiently for her to open her door. ”
Kismet takes my hand, tracing the fleshy base of my thumb with her fingers. Searching for confirmation of some sort. “What I told him at the time was that the Goddess showed him this dream as assurance that one day, his soul would find peace. If he ever set out to find it.”
The raven at my window, the abandoned cabin in the forest of Shanoah covered in overgrown vines . . . A lump forms in my throat. It wasn’t merely a dream. It was a glimpse into the day we would eventually meet.
Kismet gestures to her forehead in a tapping motion. “May I?” she asks. I dip my head, letting her fingers gently press into my temples. She hums lowly, massaging me.
“What lies inside the maiden’s cottage—her heart—will help him and all the others find solace. Only Luni’amanth will heal the wounds of Bleeding Sun.”
My heart snags on its next beat. Moonflower?
“H-How do you know that? My Noctosanoc name?”
Kismet studies the canvas of my hands again, pondering. She closes her eyes, and I can sense a vision forming in her mind. When she speaks again, the world goes still.
“You, my dear, are a moonflower. All your life, your petals have been shut tight, pleading for you to obey the sun like the rest of the garden. But you know that you are different, that your dreams can only be fulfilled by a special light. You are bound to the moon and her creatures. Evening glory. A shimmering pearl in the blackest of seas. You will only bloom under the moonlight and when you finally do, the whole world will stop to admire your beauty, to be enchanted by the rarest, sweetest fragrance of night.”
I close my eyes and picture my mother and grandmother standing over me, beaming with their arms around each other, raven hair adorned with white feather headdresses.
I know it isn’t possible but, in this moment, I feel them. Right in this very room.
“A mother’s love is a mighty thing, Luni’amanth. It is powerful enough to raise mountains. To transcend time. She knows the path you walk is not an easy one. Her spirit will always be your compass, as my own ancestors are mine. Trust in this, child.”
A tear slides down my cheek. As the chief releases my hand, Axe, Tesni, and Solmuk approach the bench.
“Now I understand,” Kismet continues. “You have brought to me both joyful news and an omen.”
Tesni is the first to speak. “By now, the vekkanom have detected why Vessa is important to us. If Axe is to claim the Sponsa Noctis as his mate, the Blood Master will see it as an act of war.”
“I will go to my death before I let any vampires step foot on Tilaak lands,” Axe declares. “You have my word.”
Kismet rests a hand on his shoulder. “I know this, Aleksandr. We are grateful for everything Bleeding Sun has done to rid the lifeless from our shores.”
My heart goes heavy at Axe’s willingness. He tells the chief that from now on, a small patrol of lycans will be stationed near the beach. Solmuk accepts, declaring that the clan will begin organizing precautionary measures as soon as we leave.
“Please,” I breathe. “There must be something I can do to help. You are innocent in this mess.”
Angling herself towards Tesni, Kismet straightens her spine. The women exchange a knowing look, faces grim.
“Wolves and ravens need each other to survive. While her prowess does not yet match your own, she is clever and strong-willed. Teach Vessa how to embody the raven, so that you might forge a new weapon against those who wish to entrap her.”
The leader of the Tilaak fully addresses Axe’s Sentinel then.
“Though you may be the last of your kin, I know that you keep their spirit alive by showing the people of Bleeding Sun how to battle in the ways of the Norgsik. It matters not if she is Annituk. Her heart is determined like yours, Captain. Honor your ancestors with this task.”
Tesni bows her head.
Kismet’s eyes go impossibly dark as she lifts her chin. “When the white raven emerges from the shadows, then you shall have your vengeance.”
So many symbols. So much death and bloodshed before my time.
Solmuk regards me with narrow eyes and whispers, “Luni kreta.”
Axe puts his hand on my shoulder. “Forget all these titles, Vessa. You’re free to be whoever you want. If you’re ready to take a stand against the Blood Master and his demons, then we will gladly stand beside you and help you step into your power.”
I flinch. “What power?”
“Silver.” Solmuk gestures to my bracelets. Tesni meets his eyes, catching on to his idea.
Tesni steps forward, gripping the hunting knife at her belt. “Humans aren’t weakened by silver. Vampires, on the other hand . . . they’ll never see you—or smell you—coming.”
Axe winks, closing his hand around mine. “We’ll make a sniper out of you, just you wait.”
For so long, I have been complacent. No more running from the past. No more cowering from the future.
I refuse to continue passing through life like an empty shell caught in the ocean’s tide.
I may be cursed, but I am still the conqueror of my life.
If the gods refuse to intervene, then I will fight with everything I have to defy the inevitable.
I will crawl out of the trenches, and I will take back my fate with silver and blood.
My shoulders roll back as I turn to face the brooding Norgsik warrior. “When do we begin?”