“Look at me!” Cadel barks.
I have no choice but to turn back to him, lift my head, and meet his gaze head-on.
“How dare you—”
“What if I loved you, too?”
My shoulders curl as if to protect me from a vicious blow. “Don’t be mean,” I say and turn away quickly, breathing hard.
“How is loving you mean?” Cadel says in amusement. He’s right behind me, the heat of his body pressing into mine.
“You’re a god.”
“And you are—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. I’m struck suddenly by a memory, something so strong and so real I’m almost transported right into it.
My mother is making crescent moon cookies. She uses a metal cup to shape them and then, like she does every time, she sticks one on the door.
“This is so that they know we’re safe.”
“Safe?”
“Mm, where you see the moon, you are safe.”
She gave me the cookies to share, and I took them out and gave them away, but there was always one cookie that was glued to our front door all my life. She would replace it every few weeks, and then I would do it, too.
“The crescent moon is safe,” I murmur, my eyes widening. “The crescent moon is safe!” I shout at them.
I walk fast down the street, and now I can see them everywhere. In the back of my mind, I’ve been noticing it, but I didn’t make the connection. But they are on every building. Carved into the sides of walls, drawn on the road. In paint, carved, scratched, built.
“It’s everywhere!” I say in wonder.
There are old crescents and new. Some look hundreds of years old. Some look like they were made recently.
“What is it, Kaida?” Mordecai asks, running his fingers over one.
“My mother’s stories. Legion was right. She was trying to tell me something.”
I don’t know why, but it feels like she’s still here, and that gives me hope. I follow the crescent moon to a metal door that has so many carved on it that it almost has no space.
Mum was right. I push open the door and slip down the stairs.
The alphas follow. There’s light down here, from above, not much but enough to see the huge mural on the back of the wall.
The Luna Goddess in all her glory. Somehow, this painting is still here, surviving in a world where it should be dust and gone. The roof hasn’t got a hole; it’s a way to view the moon, I realise.
It’s a large circular chamber with two chairs. They are both broken. On the floor is a massive silver and white gold moon that has been inlaid into the bricks.
I can’t see anything else, but I know there has to be something. I walk around the room, following the drawings and depictions of this goddess. She’s got white and black hair, a stern face, and is wearing silver robes. In all the designs, she’s got a sword in her hand that glows like moonlight.
Only when I’ve made a full circuit do I stop and glance at the alphas, trying to mask my frustration. Jarek is leaning against the wall, watching us. He’s got his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Are you going to help?” I grumble.
“My help would not be help. At least not yet, but I can tell you that the air in this room is weird. It’s cooler.”
“Not helpful, Jarek,” Mordecai snaps.
