"Where is she?" My voice was barely human, distorted by rage.
Umbra's form solidified, tall and imposing. His eyes, silver pinpricks in a face of darkness, regarded me coldly.
"The human is being cleansed. It is for your own good, Varkolak. For the good of our kind."
My shadows whipped forward, wrapping around his throat before he could react. "What do you mean, cleansed?"
He didn't struggle. "The bond between you is unnatural. We are removing it. The ritual will purge her memory of you, of us. She will return to her people, where she belongs."
Horror replaced rage. Memory purging was ancient magic, rarely used. Painful. Sometimes fatal to humans.
"Who authorized this?" I tightened my grip.
"The full Council. Unanimously." His silver eyes narrowed. "Including your father."
I released him, stepping back. My father. The Elder who'd lost everything when my mother died. Who'd raised me alone, against tradition.
"You know where they've taken her." Not a question.
Umbra straightened his shadowy form. "The Void Chamber. Deep in the mountain. But you're too late. The ritual began at moonrise."
I lunged forward, slamming him against the rock wall. "If she dies?—"
"Then she was too weak for you anyway." His voice held no emotion. "Think, Varkolak. Remember what happened to your mother. Would you wish that fate on this human girl?"
My grip faltered. Memories I'd locked away for years threatened to surface.
"Aya is stronger than you know." I released him and turned away, shadows already stretching toward the mountain's heart.
"The Chamber is guarded!" he called after me. "They will kill you before letting you interfere!"
I didn't respond. Let them try.
The ancient passages of our mountain were a labyrinth to outsiders, but a map etched in my blood. I moved through shadow, faster than physical form would allow, thinking only of Aya's face. Her smile when I brought her shells from the distant shores. Her fierce determination as she learned to hunt alongside me. Her soft voice in darkness, telling me stories of her human life.
The memory hit me as I raced through the deepest corridor—the first time she'd spoken of her parents.
"I don't really remember them," she'd admitted, her head resting on my chest. "Just feelings. Warmth. Safety."
"My mother died when I was young, too," I'd said, words I'd shared with no one.
Aya had lifted her head, those curious brown eyes searching mine. "What happened to her?"
Now, as I descended into the mountain's depths, that suppressed memory broke free.
Twenty years earlier
"Hide, Varkolak. Promise me." My mother's face was pale, her features stark with fear.
I was eight, small for a shadow creature, my abilities not fully formed. "I want to stay with you."
"Your father will come." She pushed me toward the small crevice in our cave home. "He will protect us both. But you must hide now."
Outside, voices grew louder. The Elders had come, finally making good on their threats. My mother, a beautiful, fragile, half-human, had never been accepted.
"The abomination must end," I heard Elder Koros say. "The child, too. Half-breeds weaken our bloodline."
My mother stepped outside to face them. I peered through the crack, disobeying her command to hide completely.
