CHAPTER 39
THE FIRE QUIETED, as if bowing in respect to the gravitas of Fia’s words.
The mythic weight of them hung on Lenore’s shoulders, and she found herself nearly holding her breath.
Her eyes flickered toward Fia’s necklace.
A glimmer of light rippled through the small raven.
Looking to the others for answers, Lenore felt her chest tighten when she saw Gwyneth and Cade turn grim.
“So you’re finally gonna tell us what the deal is with that necklace?” Gwyneth sat down again. “I thought you’d never do that.”
“It’s not something I ever wanted to do,” Fia said. Lenore gripped her seat tightly when she sat back down to listen.
With everyone’s rapt attention on her, Fia began.
“The white raven is a legend, passed down to each generation of werewolves still loyal to the Moon’s Sovereign.
It’s only ever been spoken, never written—no one has ever recorded it successfully.
To anyone who tries to write it down, the words become a garbled mess.
” Fia lowered her gaze, staring at them solemnly.
“Thought it would’ve been fun to share it with you bunch once I’m on my deathbed, but here we are.” She chuckled dryly. “Though these might be my last days, so it works out.”
“Grandma, if you talk like that again, I will destroy you,” Gwyneth growled.
“I hate to agree with Gwyn, but I agree,” Cade said. “Just tell us the legend.”
Fia scoffed lightly. “None of you are fun. Anyway, as you all know, many centuries ago, Ieric defeated Lunantha, the god worshipped by the Lucyn. The Lucyn were scattered, and there was peace among werewolves. But until the moon itself bestows a cloak of light upon the one destined to restore the true light—demons don’t stay dead.
“And we all know how clever they are, too. Whether it’s the remains of Lunantha herself, or some other demon, it doesn’t matter.
It bides its time, waiting for generations to pass and for werewolves to eventually forget the strife before the peace.
That’s when the seeds are sown again, whispering to wolves tempted by the gain from what nearly ruined us.
” Fia crossed her arms. “Knowing this, the Moon’s Sovereign gave Ieric a gift—the white raven—inscribed with a memory to never forget its mission, no matter how much time had passed.
It would remember what to do—as long as someone spoke the right words in the old tongue. ”
The fire crackled loudly in that moment, emboldening her words with something beyond what could be named. Lenore remained completely still, as if moving even an inch would shatter the fragility of the moment and steal away the chance to hear what was sacred.
“The raven’s purpose was to warn other werewolves of the Lucyn once it’s sought out and awakened,” Fia continued.
“So we could gather together and be prepared to fight against evil before a full-blown war happens again. It’ll be seen by those who know of its divinity, and those whose hearts haven’t been tainted. ”
The room seemed to lean in as Fia’s gaze swept over them.
“The Moon’s Sovereign sculpted small versions of its servant, entrusting them to Ieric to use as a way to see who could be trusted—and to make sure the story would be carried to the next generation.
Anyone who couldn’t be trusted would only see a black fang.
” She took hold of the white raven attached to her necklace, lifting it up to show the others.
The white raven almost seemed to shine brighter, as if it captured the light of the stars from above. A sense of wonder ran through Lenore. By the grace of the Moon’s Sovereign, she was able to see the necklace’s true form.
“That was the gift given to werewolves for the future.” Fia snorted quietly. “And it looks like that time is now.”
When Fia finished speaking, the others fell quiet, scrambling to make sense of the legend woven through their history.
“... Is this really true?” Lenore whispered in awe.
“That’s what’s been passed down,” Fia answered.
“I can’t believe you’ve never told us,” Cade exclaimed. “You left us ignorant all this time!”
“Ha! Do you really think this is something anyone wants to share?” Fia said. “It talks about how everything is going downhill. It’s a last resort to all of this.”
“If this is shocking to us, I can’t imagine how you feel, Lenore.” Gwyneth looked at Lenore, her expression unusually sympathetic. “You’re just being thrown right in, aren’t you?”
Lenore was quiet, reflecting on everything that had been shared. “It is a lot,” she said. “More than a lot, actually. But if the legend of the white raven is true, then there’s something to hope for, and for a future where... living as a werewolf might actually be alright?”
Gwyneth laughed. “Is that your attempt at positivity? It’s better than Cade at least.”
“And as the bearer of bad news, you’re also fated to be with my brother if we survive this.” Cade shook his head slowly. “Considerably worse than the Lucyn.”
Clearing her throat, Lenore turned to Fia—regretting it when she saw the smirk on the old woman’s face. “So…” She glanced at the necklace. “The real raven—where can we find it?”
Fia leaned over, pouring herself another cup of hot water. “At one of the remnants of the war. Never saw it myself when I visited those places, but that’s what the legend says.” She took a long sip of the steaming drink, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
The siblings perked up. “Stars, we’re blessed!” Gwyneth said. “There’s one near here!”
“Yeah,” Fia said. “Ieric’s old village.”
Old village? It shocked Lenore how nonchalant they all looked. Before she could inquire further, Cade spoke.
“But are we just leaving for an excursion right now? What if that alerts the others?”
“That’s right. Which is why we’ll send Lenore.”
All eyes landed on her. Lenore’s lips parted.
“What?”