Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance Chapter 18: Morning Light, Dark Secrets

I still feared what had happened earlier. I couldn’t leave him alone like this.

So I stayed.

I sat beside him through the long, heavy hours of the night, the cold seeping into my bones, the silence pressing against my skin.

Sowhere along the way, I must have fallen asleep.

When I woke, morning light bled weakly through the narrow window, and the small room slled of old wood, blood, and bitter herbs.

I blinked slowly, disoriented.

I was lying on the bed — covered with a rough, scratchy blanket.

Cassius sat upright in the battered chair beside , his arms crossed, his gaze distant.

I scrambled up quickly, heart thudding, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.

"I’m sorry, Athena," he said roughly, his voice still hoarse from the night before. "I didn’t an—"

I widened my eyes a little more sharply, cutting him off without words.

"I understand," I said quickly, stiffly. "You don’t want to talk about it."

I rose from the bed, smoothing my cloak with shaky hands.

"I’ll take my leave now."

I turned toward the door.

"No," he said.

The word was low. Heavy. A command, not a plea.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned back toward him.

Cassius’s face was pale, drawn tight with pain — but his eyes were steady.

"You need to know," he said quietly. "Before it’s too late."

I didn’t speak.

Just waited.

He exhaled slowly, like dragging every word from so deep, broken place inside him.

"Jesse isn’t going to be used just as bait," he said. "The King plans to force him into a blood ritual."

I stiffened.

"What kind of ritual?"

Cassius’s gaze locked onto mine.

"One that will awaken an ancient weapon buried under the Obsidian Throne itself."

The words dropped between us like a stone thrown into black water.

"Athena," he continued, voice rough and urgent, "Jesse’s bloodline... it’s not ordinary. It was bred for this. His blood is the key. If the ritual succeeds..." He shook his head slowly. "The King’s power will beco unstoppable. Immortal."

My throat tightened.

"And if it fails?" I asked, my voice sharper than I ant it to be.

Cassius smiled bitterly.

"If it fails... Jesse dies."

My mind spun, trying to piece it all together — the blood ritual, Jesse, the weapon buried under the Throne — but sothing still didn’t fit.

I tightened the blanket around my shoulders and narrowed my eyes slightly at Cassius.

"What does that have to do with what I saw last night?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. "What’s happening to you?"

Cassius stiffened.

For a mont, I thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then he exhaled, low and tired, running a hand through his hair.

"I’ve been like this since I was young," he said quietly.

His eyes didn’t et mine.

There was sothing heavy in his voice — sothing raw and broken, years older than his face.

A weight he wasn’t ready to share.

I opened my mouth to push further — but stopped myself.

I saw the way his hands tightened into fists.

The way his jaw locked.

The way his whole body scread leave it.

And for once, I listened.

I let it go.

I nodded once, stiffly, gathering my cloak tighter around .

"I’ll see you later," I said quietly.

Cassius didn’t try to stop this ti.

He just leaned back in the chair, his eyes falling half-shut, his body sagging with exhaustion and sothing deeper, darker, I didn’t dare touch.

I slipped out of the room without another word.