CHAPTER 32
A LONG, DRAWN-OUT HOWL jerked Lenore out of sleep.
For a moment she was sluggish, trying to make sense of her surroundings and what was happening.
Stacks of books towered around her. The memory of last night surged through her, and any lingering sleepiness vanished.
Disappointment followed. Of all the books she read, there was nothing substantial about defending oneself from a Lucyn—only scattered lore and firsthand accounts of victories won through brute strength.
There was scarcely anything on magic at all.
No wonder Azelf’s having a hard time, Lenore thought. But maybe this wasn’t about finding answers—she at least understood the Lucyn better. They grew stronger as they offered the ones they slaughtered in dedication to their goddess, Lunantha. And in turn, Lunantha apparently did too.
Lenore’s gaze turned grave. With no deaths yet, she had to hope they still had a chance.
The howling continued, a beckoning call for all to hear. It tugged at Lenore’s chest, urging her to move and find the source. Instinctively, she knew it was an authoritative signal for a meeting.
Soreness still clung to her muscles from the night before, but Lenore noted it was getting better—far better than when she first arrived. She gingerly rubbed at her patched-up ear, making sure the gauze was still in place while she cautiously crept toward the front of the library.
Through the windows, she caught a glimpse of the outside.
The light blues of a dying night were painted with misty oranges and faint pinks above, and Lenore surmised it must’ve been early dawn.
A scattered mix of humans and wolves passed by, all heading toward the same direction.
A familiar face stood out to her—Brynn, easily recognizable by her dark-green locks of hair before she disappeared from view.
Just as she touched the door handle, she noticed the torn edge at the bottom of her dress. She frowned. It wasn’t a terrible rip, probably unnoticeable to those not paying attention, but it was enough to have her transform into a wolf as soon as she stepped out and fell in with the others.
Cold, brisk air rippled through her fur.
Up ahead, she could still see the back of Brynn’s hair, subtly fluttering in the light breeze.
But Lenore kept to herself, cautious of seeing any other familiar faces or drawing any attention.
Murmurs drifted around her, but she paid no heed to the conversations.
Howling continued to ring out, its beastly melody sharp and clear to her ears now that she was outside.
After a brief, hurried walk, Lenore found herself among others in a clearing large enough for the entire pack to congregate comfortably.
The werewolves that had already arrived were in a semicircle, facing a patch of elevated terrain that hung over the relatively flat ground.
From here, Lenore saw a few wolves still howling—a final call for those yet to arrive.
A tingle sparked in Lenore’s chest upon seeing Edmund in his human form at the top of the overhang, a relief to her anxious thoughts.
He was scanning the crowd with an intensity that rivalled a hunter seeking its prey.
Her ears went straight when his gaze found her—the hardness of his eyes melting into the same relief shining in his own features.
Just as her heart skipped a beat, she felt a light tap on the top of her head, and she looked up.
It was Fia, looking down at her with mild amusement.
“Getting used to prancing around as a wolf?” she asked.
Lenore noted that she looked a bit more worn out, with a hint of dark circles under her eyes. The strong presence Fia once showed was slightly suppressed with lower shoulders and a few limp strands of hair that fell from her light-gray braid.
“A little,” Lenore replied. “I admit having fur is a lot better in this weather.” Before she could voice her concern for the older woman’s well-being, Fia spoke again.
“I’d argue it’s better to be a human in this weather to get the body moving.
” She let out a lighthearted grunt before gesturing with her thumbs toward an outer ring of werewolves.
“Nyvens go over there.” Lenore followed her pointing with her eyes and saw the others gathered by a tree.
Her muzzle tightened when she saw Charie.
“Oh—I see. Thank you, Astra.” Lenore turned to give her a thankful nod, but the old woman had departed already, heading off to stand near the leading ranks.
She stayed there for a moment, almost tempted to chase her down impulsively and ask for her help, but she reluctantly moved to where she needed to be.
When she drew close, the other Nyvens gave her silent nods before turning their attention back to Edmund. Charie didn’t look her way.
After all the werewolves settled into their respective places, Edmund raised one hand to quiet down any lingering murmurs. When silence fell before the pack, he spoke, his low voice carrying clearly across the expanse.
“Many of you already know what happened last night—we could not wake the Caernith.” Hushed murmurs rose instantly among the crowd.
“He’s alive, but as of right now, he’s fallen into a coma.
” Edmund stayed cool against the worried glances, his shoulders kept squared.
“Our priority is to heal him back to his normal condition as soon as possible. Thalryn Beren—” he looked back to his side, where the healer stood.
The light was gone in Beren’s eyes. “He and his family were working through the night to figure out why this was happening.” Edmund looked back at the crowd.
“With that said, something else happened last night.”
A rumble of growls swept the clearing when some of the Duskryns dispersed from behind Edmund, each leaping down with a raven corpse in their jaws.
The wolves dropped the bodies between Edmund and the rest of the pack.
Their ghost-white eyes stared blankly at nothing.
One of the raven’s wings flopped lifelessly by Arisa, who stood just below the overhang with the rest of the Duskryns.
Lenore inhaled sharply. Her eyes flickered up toward Arisa, catching a brief glimpse of irritation flashing across her face, before taking on a neutral visage once more.
“A border patrol caught a few of these ravens outside our territory. I’ve never seen a raven like this before, but some of the Astras have already confirmed what this is.
” His face turned like steel, cold as the soulless birds before him.
“Ravens that feasted on prey tainted by the Lucyn—drinking in the lingering power left behind until they turned into what they are now. Cursed creatures.” His eyes narrowed.
“The umbral thistles have become more than a bad omen.”
She felt eyes turn toward her.
Suspicion. Fear. Hostility.
It stung when she saw Brynn hesitantly glance her way, lips pulled tight. Lenore’s tail tucked in between her legs. A heavy pit formed in her stomach. They all thought she was the problem.
The Lucyn.
“You all know the Lunar Ball will occur in nine more days. This isn’t the time for our pack to be weak.
” A flame was lit within his mismatched eyes, ferocity marked in the glint of his bared fangs.
“I won’t be staying within our borders, hoping for things to get better.
No, if there’s a threat out there, we’ll face it head-on.
” His right hand curled tight, then released.
“I’ll be leading a scouting party not only to hunt for any possible Lucyn, but to find what can restore our Caernith to how we knew him. ”
Edmund’s leaving? Worry flared up in Lenore. But why? Her ears lowered, knowing the answer already. He was a leader. But it still didn’t stop her from thinking, Why does he have to leave me?
“A few others and I will be departing by tonight. While I’m gone, Hans will be in charge of the pack.” He gestured below at the brown wolf. Hans stepped forward toward the pack and bowed his head, then moved back.
Edmund glanced downward, if only briefly. “Arisa herself will be joining our search party. A valiant choice to help her mate.”
Arisa’s eyes widened just a fraction before it disappeared. She smiled in determination, as if to wave off the melancholy that plagued her.
Lenore’s head tilted slightly—her worry turning to confusion. Arisa’s going too? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Winter shift her weight uncomfortably. A cold shiver ran through Lenore’s fur. It looked like Arisa’s departure was completely unexpected.
Edmund transformed into his wolf form, the dark hues of his fur like nightfall itself. His head was held high. “By the start of the Lunar Ball, the Lunavie Pack will be at its full strength again!”
An outbreak of agreeing howls broke through the clearing.
The intertwined melody coursed through the gathering, its haunting echoes startling flocks of birds from the trees.
Next to Lenore, all the other Nyvens had shifted into wolves, singing along with the others.
Not a single human form could be seen, but only the visible reminder of the beastly blood flowing through everyone present.
Though gradual beams of morning sunlight spilled into the clearing, it did little to deter the icy chill in the air.
Uncertainty held Lenore’s voice at bay, and she remained quiet as the pack’s beastly song ebbed into a dying hush.
As Edmund gave a final dismissal to the gathering, figures started moving around her.
Their voices mingled—some serious, some optimistic.
Lenore’s heart squeezed tightly when she saw him turn and leave.
Stars, she wished she could talk to him right now.
But with a soft sigh, she turned the opposite way, toward home.