“No.” I scraped the toe of my boot along the floor and left another smear, which was about all the acknowledgment the previous owner of the blood deserved. “Listen, I’m sorry about the mess, but I was summoned here kind of last-minute and I didn’t really have time to… I mean… Should I bathe before I meet her?” I dragged the back of my hand across my forehead, skin gritty with dirt and sweat and probably more blood. “Maybe do a purifying juice cleanse or… something?”
With a serene smile, the novitiate lowered her hood and said, “The Goddess Melantha does not require purity of body. Only purity of intent.”
She looked younger than I expected—only a teenager—and she wasn’t a witch. Just a regular human girl. I wondered what she’d done to end up a servant in the realm of the Dark Goddess, a place you couldn’t even access without being summoned by the deity herself, then portaled in by her magick. Ruined or not, this temple was more than just a holy place—it existed in a liminal space all its own, nothing but stars and darkness as far as the eye could see.
Didn’t the girl have parents? Friends?Someonemissing her on the other side?
A sharp pain lanced my heart, but I breathed through it. I had no idea how long the girl had been here, but this was merely day one for me, and I had a long road ahead. I needed to stay grounded. Committed.
“How will she know my intentions are pure?” I asked. “Is there a test?”
“Fear not, Daughter of Darkwinter. I’m certain Her Holiness will be quite impressed with your offering.”
Ignoring the Darkwinter bit, I forced a smile and scratched the back of my neck, sneaking a covert whiff of my armpit.
Let’s hope her Holiness is impressed with Eau de Urban Warfare, because that’s about all I’m offering at the moment…
“Come. She’s expecting you.” Still wearing a look of pure serenity, she continued on through a doorway at the back of the temple sanctuary, gesturing for me to follow.
The antechamber was small and intimate, much less imposing than the main temple. The warm glow of hundreds of candles flickered across plain mud walls and a low ceiling, the ground nothing but bare earth. My boots sank into it with every step, and as the scents of candle wax and dirt washed over me, I let out a sigh of relief.
This room, at least, had remained untouched by whatever monster had gone batshit crazy in the sanctuary.
My eyes adjusted to the candlelight, my gaze drifting to the stone altar in the center of the room—a large slab covered in fresh flowers and bowls of fruit, ringed by votive candles in red glass orbs.
Offerings, I assumed. For the…
Oh, shit.
I gasped as I finally spotted the boy, no more than ten or eleven, lying in repose on the altar. His skin was milk-white, the robe they’d dressed him in much too large, as if it was borrowed in haste from someone much older.
Someone much closer to death than this child should’ve been.
“How did he pass?” I whispered.
“He didn’t.” The novitiate frowned. “Melantha’s son is very much alive.”
“Herson?” I couldn’t hide my shock. The Dark Goddess was tens of thousands of years old—probably older. Lots of witches prayed to her, worshipped her, wrote volumes about her history and magick. I’d never once heard of a child. “How long has he been like this?”
“Six months.” She sighed, running her fingers through the sweep of dark hair across his forehead. “He was cursed by a dark fae warlord called Keradoc. A vicious monster who punishes children for the sins of their parents.”
An icy shiver ran down my spine. Dark fae were powerful, but Melantha was a darkgoddess.Thedark goddess. How could a fae warlord have gotten anywherenearher child? And what sin could she have committed to provoke such terrible retribution?
“He’s alive,” the novitiate continued, “but his soul is trapped in moonglass.” She retrieved a small wooden chest from the offerings at his side, opening it to reveal a glass-like sphere as delicate as a soap bubble. At her gentle touch, it glowed with a bright, pearlescent sheen. “It’s made from pure moonlight, cast with dark fae magick that’s been banned for thousands of years.”
“Because it’s a prison,” I said, disgust churning inside. It wasn’t the first time I’d encountered moonglass. According to legend, the very first fae created it by deceiving the moon into lending the fae her light, then forging the magickal globes to trap the souls of their enemies. Eventually, they’d release those souls into the most hostile fae realms, sentencing them to an eternity of torment. “How did this happen?”
She met my eyes, but her serene smile was gone, replaced now with a look of grim determination. “What matters, Daughter of Darkwinter, is that you alone can free him.”
“Me? But… how?”
“Breaking the curse requires the blood of the one who cast it.”
“Keradoc. Of course.” I blew out a breath, the tightness in my muscles loosening as the pieces clicked into place. I was a blood witch—a damned good one at that. Melantha needed me to do some sort of spell to help the child. “So, when do we start?”
“You will travel to his realm as soon as possible,” she replied. “Once you’ve extracted the blood, you’ll return to the Temple of the Dark Moon to perform the spell with Melantha, breaking the curse and—”
“Wait. Did you just…” I blinked at her, my mind racing to keep up. “You don’t have his blood? Then how can I do the spell?”
