The grass is soft beneath my feet, leaves brush against my arms, the trees sway in time with the music, and I feel... whole.
Every step feels like a celebration of life itself. And here, under the thin scratch of silver of the young moon, surrounded by the vólkins, I feel like I belong.
Is this what Elder Aïna meant?
A shiver runs through me. Body, mind, and soul...
Under the crescent’s glow, the Leader shall unite and guide. A voice echoes, calm and beautiful.Her vision will pierce the shadows of doubt, as the spirits foretold. The bond of essence and soul will shape the fate of this world.
The words make me falter. They’retoo familiar.
Mother used to say the same thing.
I glance around, expecting Elder Aïna to be standing close, but the voice fades as quickly as it came. I keep moving, letting the music guide me.
The fire crackles louder, its flames shifting from orange to a bright blue. The vólkins stop, their chatter replaced with silence as their eyes widen. But I continue to dance like something is pulling me forward. A strange energy flows through me, lights my every step.
Blue roses bloom under my feet, glowing as they spread outward in a trail behind me. Gasps ripple through the crowd, and the vólkins step back, their whispers blending with the crackling fire. Elder Aïna’s gaze catches mine across the clearing. There’s pride in her expression, and something about it makes my chest swell.
I like that. Being the source of pride.
The feeling is warm, like I’ve found something I didn’t realize I was missing. The roses feel... like home.
But then the warmth fades, my vision blurs, and my legs buckle beneath me.
The last thing I see before everything goes dark is Theron’s face, his eyes wide.
“Theron? Why are you??—”
28
CLAWS, CRYSTALS, AND CHICKEN FEET
“Little light, when the world forgets its name, find the wind that sings for you, follow the leaves. They will remember me. And when you do... I’ll be blooming in the roots.”
—A.
Theron
“Noël!” I roar. My chest tightens as I see her collapse, and my body moves before I can think. I’m at her side in moments, my crystals flaring bright blue. They always glow like this when my emotions spike, but this time, the light feels blinding. She doesn’t even stir when it shines on her.
Vólkins crowd closer, their eyes wide and concerned.
“Step back!” I bark, my voice cutting through their murmurs. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might break free of my chest. My claws flex, my fangs are bared. “No one comes close!”
The vólkins obey, instead forming a wide circle. I kneel and pull Noël into my arms. Her body feels... wrong. Too limp. When her head tilts back, I catch it with my paw. Her hair fallsover my arm, her hand dangles lifelessly against the grass, and her face—goddesses, her face—is paler than I’ve ever seen it.
“Noël,” I say, as I brush the strands of her hair away.
Elder Aïna steps closer. “Goddesses, we need your guidance,” she whispers, her gaze fixed on the sacred stone.
The air weighs on me, thick with energy. A light begins to form, and a rough wind stirs the leaves, whipping around us hard enough I have to shut my eyes. If I weren’t so heavy, I’d lose my balance.
The flames of the bonfire suddenly rise wild. The heat brushes against my fur, and I feel it standing on end.
Three figures materialize before us, their presence so powerful it brings the vólkins to their knees, heads bowed low.
Vodínaya, the goddess of healing and endurance, steps forward first, her gaze vast like the ocean’s depths. Beside her is Dušava, her hair flowing like ivy, the goddess of forests and fertility. Zárya stands tall, her aura blazing with the power of light and fire.
