I caught Gideon’s low whisper, quiet enough that it barely cut through the hum of tension. That tone–sharp,
knowing–made my gut twist. Did he know something I didn’t?
I tilted my head up to look at him, curiosity pulling my gaze from the holes in the wall.
“Dont give me those eyes. You’ll throw me off,”
Gideon said, his big hand gentle as he patted my cheek and turned my head back toward the altar room
Speechless.
What was I even doing with my eyes? Blinking? Staring?
I felt that familiar flush of embarrassment–teased again, just when I was trying to stay sharp. I huffed quietly, exasperated but forcing myself to refocus on the chaos unfolding next door.
Through the holes, I saw Lydia–no longer neat and put–together, but covered in ash and grime, her coat smudged, her hair falling loose. She straightened up, voice cracking as she pleaded with stres: Zephira, desperation dripping from every word.
“Save my pup, please, save her! I’ll do anything!”
Mistress Zephira stayed silent, her eyes still closed.
Then her face twisted in agony, like something dark and cold had wrapped around her. She started witch again–small, jerky movements at first, then worse.
The wooden plaques on the walls rattled louder, their edges clattering against the stone; one snapped clean in half with a sharp crack.
A wolf statue on a nearby shelf toppled over, shattering into shards on the floor, and the room’s lights flickered wildly–on, off, on, casting strobing shadows over everything.
Then a voice erupted from Mistress Zephira’s throat–a sound that made my blood run cold. It was neither male nor female, neither young nor old, just a hollow, echoing wail. “I died so horribly! I won’t let her go! She must die! She must die!”
The words she must die bounced around the room, repeating over and over like a haunting chorus, seeping into every corner. Lydia froze, her face drained of all color–too terrified to even scream, her mouth hanging open in a silent gasp.
Suddenly, Mistress Zephira’s normal voice broke through the chaos, ragged and urgent. “Nessa, it’s trying to possess you! It’s going to kill Lydia–quick, stop it!”
Nessa grabbed a cleaver and, from somewhere, dragged out half a pig carcass. She hauled it in front of Lydia and hacked at it wildly.
Blood and flesh splattered, some landing on Lydia’s face. She screamed again, trying to flee but collapsing, crawling on the floor.
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Her nerves were fraying at the seams.
I pressed my eye to the wall’s small hole, Gideon right beside me, both of us watching the chaos unfold next
door.
This whole setup- the twitching, the shattering statues, that terrifying voice–would scare anyone half to
death, no question.
Gideon leaned down, his mouth brushing my ear as he whispered,
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“Where’d she learn that?”
I turned my head just enough to whisper back, keeping my voice low so Lydia wouldn’t hear, “Movies. And some tricks from a shaman from another pack.”
It made sense–Nessa had always been good at picking up little hacks to sell a act.
Then Nessa finally stopped that harsh, fake hacking, her shoulders slumping as exhaustion hit her.
She collapsed to the side, chest heaving. I wasn’t surprised she was drained. Think about it: dragging a pig, jumping around, swinging that cleaver, and putting on that whole “possessed” show? Even Caleb–who never
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seems to tire–would’ve been wiped out, maybe even complaining about how sore he was,
This wasn’t just acting; it was a full–on workout.
“Let’s go,” Nessa said, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand before setting the cleaver
down on the altar.
The room fell silent after that–so quiet you could hear Lydia’s ragged breathing. The place was a wreck: shattered statue pieces scattered across the floor, broken wooden plaques lying in splinters, curtains askew like an invisible force had torn through them.
Lydia didn’t care about her appearance anymore–her coat was smudged with ash, her hair a mess.
She crawled on her hands and knees to Mistress Zephira’s feet, sobbing so hard her shoulders shook, terror thick in her voice. “Help me, Mistress Zephira!”
Mistress Zephira said nothing.
She just sat there, eyes still closed, like she hadn’t heard a word. I held my breath, watci ing–waiting to see what she’d do next, wondering if Lydia would finally get the “answer” she’d come for.
“Mistress Zephira, speak! Money’s no issue! Name your price, I can pay!” Lydia’s voice cracked with desperation.
Mistress Zephira’s lips twitched, as if holding back words.
“Lydia, you’re not being honest. Go home–Mistress Zephira can’t help you!” Nessa spoke for how sling even a mountain of gold could!”
Mistress Zephira’s lips moved again, her face etched with anguished compassion.
“I’ll tell you everything! Please, give me one more chance. I won’t hide anything,” Lydia gasped, pale as a stranded fish, her eyes darting around in fear.
She swore something was lurking in the shadows, watching her.
Nessa pressed, “Then spill it! Trust Mistress Zephira completely, or you’re not just dooming yourself–you’re dooming us too!”
The repeated death talk hit Lydia hard.
She clutched her chest, breathing fast.
Her eyes flickered, still hesitating, before she stammered, “When my pup was a freshman, she had… a close friend. Somehow, that pup… died in an accident. It wasn’t my pup’s fault, I swear! It was just an accident. But maybe… maybe that pup misunderstood her! Yeah, a misunderstanding. My pup’s a good soul, she is.”
“I just wanted Mistress Zephira to read her future, especially now that she’s got a pup ready to form a sacred
bond.”
“But I’ve got this feeling–her mood’s off. It’s gotta be that thing, right?”
I finally got it–who Lydia meant by “you’re already dead.”
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It wasn’t some ghost or literal threat.
They weren’t even worried about me refusing to sign a stupid forgiveness pact.
Why would they be?
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Next to the Blackwood pack, the Quinn pack, or Beatrice from the Ashbourne pack, I was nothing.
They never saw me as a threat–just a stepping stone, something to step over while they plotted Vanessa’s so–called “happy future.”
Reading my future… Hah. Hilarious. As if they cared about anything besides their own little schemes.
Then Cassie’s voice cut through the room, sharp and icy.
“Lydia! You’re still lying!”
Lydia scrambled to defend herself, desperation making her voice shrill.
“I’m telling the truth! That pup just misunderstood my daughter. Can you explain it to them? Make them leave. I’ll burn stacks of offerings for them–anything. If they’re lonely, I’ll arrange an eternal binding for them. Just make them go!”
Cassie shut her down, cold as stone.
“Lydia, if you keep this up, we can’t help you. It’s not that Mistress Zephira won’t help–it’s that your heart not true! We told you last time: only the truth can resolve this. Your lies have angered it. Thoma we died because of you. If you don’t trust Mistress Zephira, why come at all? Leave! Don’t come out paused, then added, sharp as a knife, “Hmph, you might not have a next time anyway!”
ne
That last line drained every bit of color from Lydia’s face–she went pale as a corpse, her lips trembling.
She threw herself forward, clinging to Mistress Zephira’s legs like a drowning wolf grabbing a rope. “Mistress Zephira, you have a way, don’t you? Please–you must.”
“Keep lying, and you’re as good as dead,”
Cassie pushed harder, her tone leaving no room for argument. She was about to snap at Lydia to get out when Mistress Zephira cut in, her voice softening into that fake, merciful lilt she used for marks.
“Mistress Zephira knows all, can do all, and is merciful. Though your lies have harmed me, I can’t bear to watch you die.” She reached behind her, pulling out a small, shiny vajra pendant necklace–polished to catch the light, like it was worth far more than it was.
“This relic, nourished by sacred energy, wards off all evil. Have your pup wear it–never take it off. It’ll keep her
safe.”
“Thank you, Mistress Zephira! Thank you!”
Lydia clutched the pendant to her chest, fingers white–knuckling it like it was a lifeline. I watched through the wall, jaw tight–she was so desperate, she couldn’t even see this was just another trick.
Cassie shouted, “No, Mistress Zephira! Mrs. Young already claimed this relic! Her family’s in deep trouble too.
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Shw’s pais ten million in faith offerings, but there’s only one reli
Mistress Zephire fattered 1 forgot. What do we dust
“Give it to mal i need it more fill pay twenty million Lydia hugged the pendant sightly, panicked at the
thought of Mrs. Young snatching t
- it.
Lydia, it’s not about money. Mrs. Young has more faith, more devotion Nessa said sternly
Mistress Zephira nudged Cassile behind her. “Maybe give it to Lydia. We’ve got a connection
Mistress Zephiral She’s not sincerel Shell ruin ost
Pup, saving lives comes first. Don’t forget our purpose. Let Lydia have the relic. Her family’s troubles are too great–she won’t survive three days without it.
Fine, finer Nessa sighed, playing the pity card. “Lydia, if you want to save your pup, she must wear this vajra pendant at all times. Twenty–four hours, never off! Or that thing will find a way in, and it’ll be too late!
She glanced behind Lydia,
Lydia shivered, grabbing Cassie’s hand, trembling. “What about me? Am I in danger tou? If it leaves my pup
alone, will it come for me? Are there more relics?”
“Of course
Cassie was about to string her along and say no, but Mistress Zephira swiftly pulled out a
beads, “Pup, let’s save her too!”
T
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