"I see," the seer croaked, voice like sandpaper on stone. "Oh, I see clear now what was clouded before."
"What do you see?" the central council member demanded.
The seer's hood turned toward me, then back to the council. "The union is too powerful. Blood and shadow. Light and dark. The balance tips."
My stomach clenched. "What does that mean?"
The seer ignored me, continuing to address the council. "The joining must be prevented. The lines must not cross. The child must not be."
Child?
My hand flew to my stomach. Was it possible? We'd only been together one night, but with magic involved, who knew?
"There will be no child," the central shadow declared. "The unbinding ritual will see to that."
"Unbinding?" I stepped forward, fear giving way to anger. "You can't separate us. Varkolak chose me. I chose him."
"Your choice is irrelevant," said another council member. "The shadows have survived millennia through careful pairing. We do not allow random unions, especially not with humans."
"It wasn't random. I saw the ancient drawings in the mountain caves," I argued. "My DNA?—"
"Was interesting," the shadow cut me off. "A curiosity. An experiment. Those drawings mean nothing. A passing fancy perhaps by one who lusted for that which he couldn't have."
The seer shuffled closer to the council, voice dropping to a whisper I strained to hear.
"...ancient ritual in the purification caves... three nights under the black moon... separation of essence..."
They were planning to tear us apart. To undo whatever bond had formed between us during our night together.
"No," I said, loud enough to echo off the stone walls. "I won't let you."
The central shadow rose, towering over me. "You have no say in this matter. You will be confined until preparations are complete."
Two shadows materialized beside me, gripping my arms with surprising strength.
"Take her to the holding chambers," the central council member ordered. "And find Varkolak. He must be prepared."
"He'll never agree to this!" I shouted as they dragged me toward a side passage.
The last thing I heard was the seer's raspy laugh. "Agreement is unnecessary. The ritual requires only bodies, not consent."
They locked me in a small, windowless room with nothing but a narrow pallet and a water jug. Hours passed, maybe. Without light, time stretched and compressed like taffy.
I paced, thinking of what I'd overheard. The unbinding ritual. The purification caves. Three nights under the black moon.
I needed to know more. Needed to stop them.
Pressing my ear to the door, I listened for guards. Nothing. Either they were extremely quiet, or they believed the door was enough to hold me.
They were wrong.
Growing up in the human colony, I'd learned to pick locks by the time I was ten. Food storage hid behind locked doors, but hungry kids are resourceful. I pulled a thin metal pin from my tangled hair, always prepared, my one vanity, and set to work on the ancient lock.
It took longer than I'd hoped, but eventually, the mechanism clicked. I eased the door open, peering into a dim hallway. Empty.
I slipped out, keeping close to the wall. Where would they keep information about rituals? About matches and pairings?
Following the curve of the hallway, I found myself in a vast chamber filled with scrolls and books. The tribal archives. Perfect.
