“It’s an old demonic prophecy that goes back to the time when hell anointed its first princes. I don’t know all the details, but it’s got something to do with a belief that the royal lines of the demons and the dark fae actually share a common original ancestor, and that their lines were meant to one day reunite and reclaim what they believe is their right to rule over all realms.”
“Demons and delusions of grandeur always go hand in hand, don’t they?”
“That they do. Anyway, this ‘Moon Blessed’ was said to be the one who would ultimately bring about the reunion and lead the newly joined forces to glory—something like that. Let me see if I can find the exact verse. I’ve got some notes here somewhere—came across bits and pieces of it when I was preparing a joint lecture with the Vatican on the so-called legends of hell’s royal lines.”
She boots up her laptop and tabs through her files, finally finding what she’s looking for. “Here we go. Most of it is gibberish, but here’s the bit about the child, specifically.”
A child conceived ’neath moon so bright
Born of the union of darkness and light
Blessed is the babe who inherits the crown
Blessed is the blood that brings the world down
With every line she reads, my heart sinks deeper. According to her mother, West was conceived under a bright fae moon. The union of darkness and light could easily represent her witch mother and dark fae father. She’s got his noble blood, which isn’t the same thing as royalty, but is pretty damn close—close enough that a single error in translation could make it possible that she’s the one.
And if her rune is truly a royal claim…
No. I can’t accept it. I won’t. This conspiracy of dark fae and demons… No. That’s not the life West deserves. It’s not the life she wants.
“What about the Peacebringer?” I ask, desperate for a loophole. “Is there another prophecy?”
Tatiana shakes her head. “Peacebringer is just another name for the Moon Blessed. The child of the prophecy will bring peace—that’s the idea.”
“Demons and fae bringing peace? That makes no sense.”
“Not peace for mankind, Rook. Their idea of peace is to completely obliterate humanity and anyone who stands in their way of the ultimate goal—the reclamation of what they believe is rightfully theirs. Theirs to rule. To claim.”
“To own,” I say, the image of West’s rune burning behind my eyes.
Tatiana nods. “But… it’s a prophecy, translated many times by many different people, lost and cobbled together again, re-translated… We don’t know all the details.” She thumbs through the pages of one of her journals, her eyes taking on a faraway glaze. “Prophecy, legend, myth, lies, history, facts, fables… Steeped in time like tea leaves. Eventually, it all begins to taste the same, doesn’t it?”
“Do you think it’s real? Regardless of the translations, do you believe this Moon Blessed is a real person destined to unite the demons and dark fae?”
She smiles kindly, her eyes twinkling. “As real as a gargoyle or an ancient vampire-witch.”
Despite the warmth in her eyes, a chill seeps into my bones.
The legends may be wildly exaggerated or completely mistranslated or both, but there’s always a kernel of truth buried in them.
And the fact remains… Westisdark fae, and her birth coincides with the start of Hunter’s treatments. Belinda Eckhardt all but named her. And everything in her mother’s diaries points to her being the one.
It would explain Zorakkov’s eagerness to claim her, particularly if the prophecy had something to do with joining the lines through marriage. The shadow mage society seemed desperate to see her wed Zorakkov as well, but as humans, they would be obliterated by the joining of the dark bloodlines. Wouldn’t they?
And what does the Cerridwen Codex have to do with this? Why is Westlyn the only one able to read it?
Again, my mind is firing on all cylinders, trying to fill in the missing pieces and form the connections and just… protect the woman I love.
We finish our tea in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. When my perimeter spell is ready, Tatiana bottles it up for me and walks me to the door, her hand curled around the crook of my arm.
“Smash this bottle anywhere on the property, and the spell will activate. It’s good for two years, then you’ll need to come see me again for a refresher.”
“You did that on purpose,” I tease. “You just wanted an excuse to get me over here again.”
“A lady never tells, Rook.”
Stepping onto the porch, I call up my human glamour and turn to her with a smile. “Thank you, as always, for your council. And for your friendship.”
