🦋 ALTHEA
The door creaked open, the mont I unlocked it. Like the person had been waiting to hear the click.
The sll of food wafted through the air, my gut twisted, bile rising. The crone stepped in with a platter, my eyes narrowed at the slight jump to her step. "You barely eat," She said, ignoring my less than pleased expression.
Disappointnt gnawed at . Maybe it was the madness creeping up on but I wanted Yana to walk through the door and tell it was all a dream. But I should have known better than to believe ghosts visited the living—my stepfather never ca to visit in three years.
She set the platter down, turning to , she smiled tenderly. "How are you feeling, dear?"
The ice around my heart lted. I was always a sucker for words of endearnt. It was the pathetic part of that wanted love no matter where it ca from.
"I am fine," I replied stiffly.
Her eye narrowed, the action was not threatening, rather it was assessing. "You don’t have to lie to ," Her unseeing eye twitched.
I blinked, surprised.
"I did not lose my eyes for nothing," She winked with the seeing eye.
Again, I blinked.
She chuckled a little, her wrinkled face crinkling with amusent as she settled into the chair across from . "You think I don’t see through your walls, child? I’ve been reading people longer than you’ve been alive."
"I’m not a child," I muttered.
"No," she agreed softly. "You’re not. You haven’t been allowed to be one in a very long ti."
The truth of it stung more than I expected.
She gestured to the platter. "Eat. Even if you don’t want to."
I stared at the food—roasted vegetables, bread still warm, so kind of stew that slled rich and earthy. My stomach growled traitorously despite the nausea.
"I’m not hungry."
"Your body disagrees." She leaned back, arms crossed. "And your wolf needs strength. Whether you want her or not."
Zyra.
As if summoned by the ntion, I felt her stir in the back of my mind—a lazy stretch, like a cat waking from sleep.
"She’s right. Eat."
"Stay out of this," I hissed under my breath. Why was I snapping so much?
The crone’s eyebrow arched. "Talking to her already, are we?"
Heat crept up my neck. "How did you—"
"I told you. I see more than most." She tapped her temple. "And I know what it’s like to share space with sothing... other."
I froze. "You have a wolf?"
"Had." Her expression went distant. "Lost her when I lost my eyes. The price of seeing too much."
Silence settled heavy between us.
"What did you see?" I asked quietly.
She smiled, sad and knowing. "Everything that mattered. And nothing I could change."
I understood that feeling too well.
She pushed the platter closer. "Eat, Althea. You’re going to need your strength for what’s coming."
"The war."
"Among other things." Her seeing eye fixed on with unnerving intensity.
There was sothing she was not saying. Things she knew I wanted to know.
But as if she knew a question rather not answer was coming, she spoke again.
"You are just like your mother."
I stilled, eyes going wide, apprehension searing like a brand.
But despite what she had said, she kept smiling. "She ca here, to my daughter-in-law, the entire pack apprehensive at her intrusion. Nothing good ca from outsiders—they did not like the Luna and they hated Silverfang pack. There was no warm welco, only veiled hostility."
My intrigue peaked through my pooling dread. I had no idea that my mother had a relationship with the pack or even bore a different na. I knew nothing about her.
"Then she lted all our hearts, especially Seraphina. She planted with us, she hunted with us, she slept with us." Her voice had taken on a whimsical note. Then it died and took on sothing heavy. "Then she had our children in chains and Seraphina’s head in her hand."
Her eyes found focus and locked on mine.
A soft gasp escaped .
"You look like her, you know. Sa gentle face. Sa soft voice." The tenderness bled from her expression, replaced by sothing sharp. Sothing cold. "I have faith in the moon. In the fates. In the destinies they choose to weave together."
She leaned forward.
"You being Thorne’s mate—I hope it will be a blessing to both your trampled souls. I pray the bond will heal what was broken."
Her voice dropped, taking on an edge that made my blood run cold.
"But I will never lose another ho to a Nocturne."
The na hit like a slap. Nocturne. My mother’s family na.
"I will die before I see fire set on infants again," she continued, her good eye blazing. "I would much rather put a stake through your heart myself than watch history repeat."
My breath ca shallow, panic clawing at my ribs.
"You must ta whatever evil resides within you before it corrupts." Her voice was steel now. "You are the spawn of not one monster but two—werewolf and fae, both bloodlines steeped in ruin. And I do not know if you have the strength to smother what runs through your veins."
She reached for the platter, lifting it slightly.
Beneath the bread and vegetables sat sothing small and dark.
Black berries, glistening like polished obsidian.
"Nightshade," she said simply.
My heart stopped.
"If you cannot fight for the light—" Her voice was almost gentle now. Almost kind. "—if you feel the darkness winning, if your wolf becos sothing you cannot control—"
She pushed the platter closer.
"Put yourself out of your own misery."
The words hung in the air like a noose.
"Spare us all the pain of doing it for you."
She stood, smoothing her skirts.
"Eat, child. Gather your strength. Prove wrong." She moved toward the door, then paused. "Or prove right, and spare my grandson the agony of loving sothing that will destroy him like Poppy did. I will hold you while your soul departs, I will smooth back your hair and I will sing you a lullaby."
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