The weather is perfect, as if the goddesses planned this night just for me. I’m grateful. Even through the veil, I can make out every detail. Every leaf on every tree is crisp. I think I hear the trees humming, soft and melodic, as if singing a song only I can hear.
This has never happened before. What else will I see when I’m fully awakened?
I fix my gaze forward, and as we walk, the sacred glade comes into view. Hundreds of vólkins are gathered, just as Elder Aïna said they would be. They stand tall and proud, encircling the glade in silence. Even the pups are silent. Everyone’s waiting for me. And in the center, Theron.
He stands near the giant stone. My breath catches as I look at him. His broad chest is adorned with red circles and lines, symbols painted onto his fur. Blue roses are woven into his thick mane where they glow against his dark fur. That must have been Zephyr’s touch. It has his style. I recognize my gift to him, the lush blue rose, nestled behind his ear. A smile stretches my lips.
How handsome he looks. Like a god of nature, standing there as if the earth shaped him with careful hands. Then he turns to me, and I freeze mid-step. His eyes pierce through the distance, locking onto mine with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs. I swallow hard.
“Keep walking,” Mina whispers.
I force my legs to move, each step slow. The fabric of my dress brushes against my skin, and I’m acutely aware of how little I’m wearing. There’s nothing beneath it—no cloth to hold my breasts, no undergarments. My arousal dampens my curls, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from faltering. Oh goddesses, his gaze. It’s focused entirely on me, as if nothing else exists.
We’re still far from the glade—at least a twenty-minute walk away—but I see him. Ifeelhim. I feel his breath, his heart, his hazel eyes. I feel his fur, so thick and soft on his skin. And I know he feels me too. There is no shame in being attracted to him. This is how nature made us. How the goddesses intended us to be. Everything has a reason. Every life and every death. I arch my back and lift my chin. Why should I feel anything but pride?
I am Noël Ársa. No. I ammorethan Noël Ársa.
I am the one who will restore the balance. I am strong. I am smart. I amready.It’s not the result that defines us, not the end of the path.
It’s the journey.
The journey thatenlightens.
The candle flames around me roar higher, growing wild and violent. My fingertips burn with heat, as if I’m holding fire itself. The moon above looks down on me, and Ifeeleverything. The air, clear yet heavy, the ground beneath my feet, and the charge in the atmosphere. As we near the glade, the gathered vólkins part to let us pass.
Theron’s gaze is still fixed on me. His bratya stand at his side. A light breeze picks up, swirling fallen leaves and petals into a violent, dancing storm. Leaf spirits flit through the chaos to clear my path.
My step falters, my body sways as searing pain shoots through my forehead. It feels like it’s about to explode. Was the tea bad? Did I not drink enough water today? To my side, Mina isn’t urging me forward. None of them are. They’re all bowing.
Heat spreads through me. It’s as if my feet, my knees, my entire being is aflame. Theron takes a step closer, his expression shifting, but I lift my hand to stop him, and he does.
What is happening to me?
I close my eyes, inhale slowly, desperate for calm and to steady the storm of flames. But the pain in my foreheadgrows more insistent. Then, behind my closed lids, I don’t see darkness, but light. Vivid, blinding colors—pinks, greens, blues, and purples—paint everything in front of me. I sway, knees buckling. I almost fall, but I catch myself. My hand moves to my forehead. It isn’t smooth. A gasp escapes me. I feel strange bumps beneath my fingers.Crystals.
My nails tap lightly against them, the sound clear and true. I hear it so loudly. My eyes fly open. The tall stands around the glade are ablaze with angry fire—fire that Elder Aïna hasn’t yet lit. And I hear it.
Murmurs. Voices.
Not from the vólkins. The glade is silent. Everyone is silent. The voices come from the forest, from the shadows, from the wild. Animals? I don’t know. But they’re calling.
I turn to Theron, and what I see stops my steps. He looksdelighted. A warm smile in his eyes. What?
My gaze shifts to everyone around us. Their heads are lowered, gazes fixed firmly on the ground. Theron walks over to me, but he doesn’t say a word. We now stand a mere few steps from the glade. He lifts a paw and traces his pads gently over the crystals on my forehead through the thin veil. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I follow his gaze as it turns back toward the glade.
The entire areaglows.
The enormous stone at the center—taller even than Theron—is alive with light. Its ancient carvings pulse with energy, shining brighter and brighter. The grass around it shimmers, the blue roses at its base emit an ethereal radiance, and the air hums with power.
A loud, bone-chilling howl suddenly rises from the forest. The sound echoes around us, primal and raw, sending a shiver through my body. I whirl around, searching for its source, my heart pounding. The nýmphí kneel, their heads bowed. Thevólkins are still bowed as well, lowered to the earth. Everyone is silent.
Six figures appear before the glade, their presence taking me completely by surprise. Six beautiful women—goddesses—just as Elder Aïna once described. The six goddesses who have never appeared in human history.
And now, they stand before me.
At the forefront is Goddess Láda Veléša, the goddess of leadership and war. She is tall, commanding, and she radiates power. She looks just as Elder Aïna told me she would. Her braided hair is threaded with golden ribbon. She wears a flowing black gown adorned with red and gold embroidery depicting roses and twisting vines. Her headscarf is tied under her chin, the crescent moon embroidered at its center catching the glow of the glade. A circular halo surrounds her head, a weave of swords and vines. In her many hands, she carries her symbols. A sickle gleams in one hand, a sword glints in another. A scale rests in the third hand, a symbol of balance and judgment.
And in her fourth, she holds a small shield emblazoned with the blue rose insignia, the mark of divine protection. Her gaze locks onto mine, piercing my soul. This is the goddess who spoke to me in the darkness. I feel it.
