THIRTY-ONE LUNARIA
THIRTY-ONE
LUNARIA
Lunaria didn’t startle. She’d felt the other woman approaching—the ring enhanced her senses in ways she was still cataloging, and Marguerite Sable’s magical signature was impossible to miss. Cold. Controlled. Carrying the bitter aftertaste of decades-old guilt.
She turned slowly, keeping her hand raised so the ring caught the light.
Marguerite stood in the pavilion’s entrance, silhouetted against the afternoon sun.
Seventy-eight years old, but she carried herself with the rigid posture of someone half her age.
Her face was sharp, angular, beautiful in the way that ice sculptures were beautiful—technically perfect and utterly cold.
“Elder Sable.” Lunaria kept her voice pleasant. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
“The ring.” Marguerite stepped forward, her gaze fixed on Lunaria’s hand. “It belongs to the Marsh family. Cornelius commissioned it decades ago.”
“Cornelius gave it to Deia. She gave it to Georgia. Georgia gave it to me.” Lunaria turned her hand, letting the celestial symbols catch the light. “Seems like possession has changed a few times since your great-grandfather had it made.”
“Deia stole it.” Marguerite’s voice sharpened. “Just like she stole secrets that weren’t hers to uncover. She should have left well enough alone.”
“She was murdered.”
The words hung in the air between them—flat, undeniable, a truth that had been buried for sixty years now clawing its way into the light.
Marguerite’s expression didn’t change. That careful, frozen composure that she’d perfected over decades of keeping secrets.
“She was a threat,” the elder said. “To arrangements that kept this community stable for a century. The Hollow King takes a small price, and in exchange, Haven Shores prospers. The ley lines stay strong. The supernatural population thrives. The mating surge—all those bonds your friends built? That only happened because the Hollow King was feeding.” Her chin lifted. “It’s a fair trade.”
Lunaria stared at her.
“A fair trade,” she repeated, her voice dangerously soft. “Generations of people feeling bereft their whole lives. Not knowing why they couldn’t find love. Dying alone, thinking wrongness hung in the air with them.”
“The Holts were willing—”
“They were volunteered without knowledge.” Lunaria stepped forward, and the ring on her finger flared with light. “By Cornelius. Without their consent. You know this.”
Marguerite’s composure cracked.
It was subtle—a tightening around the eyes, a slight tremor in the hands she’d clasped in front of her. But Lunaria had spent years reading people, learning their tells, understanding when someone was about to break.
The ice queen was melting.
“I was a child when it happened.” Marguerite’s voice had lost its sharp edge.
Something raw underneath. Something that had been festering for sixty years.
“I didn’t understand what Cornelius had done.
He told me it was necessary—that he’d saved Haven Shores, that the Holts were paying a price so the rest of us could prosper.
By the time I was old enough to understand the horror of it... ”
“By then, you were already Elder.” Lunaria didn’t let up. Couldn’t afford to. “Already complicit. Already benefiting from prosperity built on stolen futures.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone has a choice. You chose to stay quiet. To take the benefits. To let someone else pay the price.” She thought of Hux—of the hollow space he’d carried his whole life, of the man he might have been if his potential hadn’t been devoured before he was born.
“For decades, you watched the Holts suffer and told yourself it wasn’t your fault. ”
“What was I supposed to do?” Marguerite’s voice rose, cracking at the edges.
“The binding was already in place. Speaking up wouldn’t undo it—it would just cause pain without solving anything.
The Holts would know what was done to them, but still be cursed.
The community would fracture. And the Hollow King... ”
She stopped. Swallowed hard.
“The Hollow King was always going to come back,” she finished quietly. “When the next Convergence arrived. It was just a matter of time.”
“So you did nothing.”
“I protected what we had.” But the words sounded numb even to Marguerite—Lunaria could see it in the way she flinched from her own justification.
“As long as the binding held, as long as the Holts kept paying the price, Haven Shores was safe. The Hollow King stayed contained. We had another century before we had to worry.”
“And the Holts?”
Silence stretched between them—thick and suffocating, filled with the ghosts of every person who’d lived and died feeling like something essential was missing.
“I told myself they wouldn’t notice.” Marguerite’s voice was barely audible now. “That they’d find other kinds of love, other kinds of fulfillment. That the void wouldn’t hurt as much as losing the whole community would.”
“You were wrong.”
“I know.” The elder’s hands trembled. “I’ve watched too many Holts marry people they never truly loved.
Have children they couldn’t fully bond with.
Die with that confused, lonely look in their eyes, like they knew something was missing but could never figure out what.
” Her voice broke. “I know I was wrong. I’ve known for decades.
But by then, it was too late to fix anything, and all I could do was—”
“Watch.” Lunaria’s anger had burned down to ice. Harder. “All you could do was watch and feel guilty and tell yourself there was nothing to be done.”
Marguerite didn’t deny it.
The pavilion fell silent except for the soft hum of the orrery and the distant chime of Warning Bells.
“The Hollow King is coming whether we stop it or not.” Lunaria held the elder’s gaze, forcing her to see the truth she’d been avoiding. “The Convergence is happening. The barriers are already thinning. And when that thing crosses over fully, it won’t be satisfied with one family anymore.”
Fear flickered across Marguerite’s face. Real fear—not the careful performance of emotion she’d been maintaining, but raw, animal terror.
“You don’t know that.”
“Deia knew it.” Lunaria gestured at the orrery surrounding them—at the weapon the dead witch had spent decades building.
“That’s why she created this. That’s why she died trying to use it.
She understood what you’ve been pretending not to see: the Hollow King has been feeding.
Growing stronger with every Holt it consumed. And when it manifests fully...”
She let the silence finish the thought.
“It will consume every bond in Haven Shores,” Marguerite whispered. “Every potential future. Every fated mate.”
“Including your grandson Victor’s bond with his wife. Including every couple the mating surge created. Including—” Lunaria’s voice caught, and she forced it steady. “Including every future I might have had with Hux.”
The elder’s eyes widened. “You and the mayor—”
“Chose each other. Despite the curse. Despite everything your family did to destroy his.” The ring pulsed on Lunaria’s finger, responding to the surge of emotion. “And I’ll be damned if I let some ancient parasite eat the only good thing that’s happened to me in longer than I care to remember.”
She held up her hand, letting the ring’s light fill the pavilion.
“Help us, or get out of the way. Those are your choices.”