Draven
“Whatever she says, don’t take it too seriously, alright?” I murmur to Kassira as we approach the Moon Temple nestled near the palace. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll find a way.”
She just huffs in that infuriatingly endearing way, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the arched entrance. “Come on, Your Majesty. Stop stalling.”
The doors creak open as we step inside, and the High Priestess is already waiting — right in the center of the temple, like she’s been pacing for hours.
“Welcome, my sweet darlings!” she chirps, voice far too cheery for the kind of doom-and-gloom prophecy talk we’re probably about to hear. Her colorful robes shimmer like sunlight on water as she turns and glides deeper inside. “Come, come! To the Seeking Room. We’ll have all the peace and privacy we need there.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. Just floats ahead.
We follow in silence. Kassira’s hand stays wrapped in mine, warm and grounding, and for a moment I forget how much pressure is sitting on my shoulders. She’s been doing this more and more — touching me casually, letting her fingers graze mine, smiling at me freely. Like maybe… I’m not entirely ruined in her eyes.
It’s enough to keep my hope alive.
The Seeking Room is cozy, dimly lit by filtered moonlight streaming through high stained glass windows. We sink onto the soft cushions around a low table that’s cluttered with sweets, berries, and delicate pastries.
The High Priestess lowers herself to the cushions with all the grace of a hundred-year-old swan and beams at us. Her gaze settles on Kassira.
“You two shine so brightly together,” she says, voice dipped in awe. “You’re practically bathed in light.”
Kass snorts. “That’s weird,” she mutters, jerking her thumb toward me. “Since this big guy over here doesn’t have a Mate Spark. Or so you told him.”
The Priestess just smiles, unbothered. “Your shine doesn’t come from the Spark,” she says, tilting her head like she’s listening to music only she can hear. “It’s the Moon Goddess. She’s blessing your bond. Offering favor to your mating.”
A blessing to our mating? I forget how to breathe for a second.
“High Priestess, plea—” Kassira starts, but the priestess lifts a hand, gently cutting her off.
“Please,” she says with a warm smile, “call me Camara. The High Priestess title gets exhausting after a while, and sometimes, it’s nice to just be a person again.”
Kass blinks. I jump in.
“Yes, well, Camara,” I say, shifting forward. “We have a situation. A serious one. And we’re hoping you might have answers… or at least a direction.”
Her gaze turns to me, softening with something close to sadness. “Your Mate Spark,” she says, already knowing. “When I heard you’d found your true mate, I was so happy. But if the bond exists and I still couldn’t sense your Spark back then… then it’s not gone. It’s hidden. And that kind of concealment?” She shakes her head, voice dropping. “It’s not normal. It must be magic. The kind that works in shadows and leaves no trace.”
Kass snorts and crosses her arms like she’s two seconds from throwing something across the room. “It’s not just dark magic,” she says sharply. “He’s a hellhound. Ahellhound, Camara.” She leans forward like she’s about to drop a bomb. “And I know you know what that means. Apparently, the High Priestesses have been keeping that little bedtime story under lock and key.”
Camara’s eyes widen, but Kass doesn’t stop.
“And to make matters worse, the magic hiding his Spark is some very old and powerful controlling magic. It shows as a red, glowing leash around the hellhound’s neck.And this leash? It’s covered in markings I’ve never seen before. And I’ve read everything. Every documented magical symbol, sigil, rune, curse pattern. These? Nothing matches. And it’s controlling him. It blocked our bond. It manipulates his memory — he forgets me if we’re apart too long.” Her voice cracks. “So yeah. We need some damn help. No more secrets.”
“A hellhound…” Camara whispers, eyes wide with wonder. “That knowledge… it’s only passed from High Priestess to High Priestess when we take our oath. Not even the Pack Priestesses are told.” Her eyes lock on me like I’m about to explode into a shift right at this moment. “How did you find out?”
“Kass found it,” I say, nodding toward her. “A fragmented entry from an old journal, buried deep in the Forbidden Archives. It talked about seven hellhounds who went to war with the gods to demand souls of their own. And won.”
Camara closes her eyes and exhales slowly. “Yes,” she breathes. “It’s true. The Moon Goddess herself gave them their Sparks. But their bonds… they were not like ours, like normal shifter bonds. Not woven from moonlight, not fragile.” She opens her eyes again, face tight with reverence and unease. “They were forged in hellfire. And that’s why they can’t be broken. Not truly.”
Her stare lingers on me for a few long seconds, like I’m the weirdest thing she’s ever seen. “I can’t believe I’m sitting across from a hellhound,” she murmurs. “I never thought I’d ever see one.”
Well, neither did I, Camara. Neither did I.
“Did you confirm it?” she asks, turning sharply to Kassira. “That he’s really a hellhound? What does his other form look like?”
“Dark. Giant. Massive wings, claws like swords, scales under the fur, and stubborn as all hell,” Kass says, arms crossed.
“Yeah,” Camara whispers, eyes wide. “That sounds like a hellhound, alright.” Her gaze shifts to me. “Draven, I assume you couldn’t shift because of the magic?”
