Holt Wraith | Minotaur x Reader

16: The Cathedral, The Cellar

(A/N: Photo finally actually belongs to me! Also, sorry this chapter is so short. Please enjoy!)

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"She changes...always."

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You spend the day with worry twisting your stomach, and questions claw your mind into shriveled shreds. What if Matilda finds out? What if she gets angry with us?

When the sun sinks behind the mountains, revealing the glimmering stars, anxiety knots your stomach and clenches your heart. A sense of dread overcomes your shadowed form as you and Caligo sneak out of the warm cottage and into the dark night.

The only sounds come from your shallow breathing and the beast's heavy footfalls. Your heart hammers in your chest, echoing into your ears like a distant, distorted drum.

The shadowed world around you sits in a quiet, peaceful slumber, hushed and undisturbed. One small sound, and the whole land could erupt with chaos. It's as if you're walking on a string in front of an audience, and with a single misstep, you'd slip, and the entire room would fill with ear piercing screams.

An observant beast knows just when to strike, your mind recites Saoirse's teachings before adding its own anxious inquiry. It might be calm now, but is that a mere façade?

You release a deep breath and relax your shoulders. Of course not, you rationalize. It's calm because it's meant to be, because She wants it to be.

Your eyes look up on instinct, and you take in the shimmering stars. They flicker like a distant, fading candle flame, though they could never be blown out. Surprisingly, the Moon is absent, away from Her children for the time being.

"Don't trust."

Your eyes trail down, meeting the beast's white pools of moonlight. "Who?" you ask as he turns away, walking towards the forest. You jog behind to catch up with his long strides.

As the two of you enter the dense trees, he points up. "Don't trust."

When you look, you see the stretching tree branches, with starlight peeking through the dancing leaves. You jog up beside him and tilt your head at him. "The stars?"

He shakes his head, pointing to his chest, where his heart resides. "Don't trust the moon."

His deep whisper sends a chill down your spine. He didn't stumble over his words, not once, as if he's wanted to tell you.

He's never been so clear in his wording, yet so murky in his meaning. He doesn't trust the Moon? Why?

As if you voiced your inquiry aloud, he answers, "She changes...always."

Something clicks together in your mind, like the words are connected with a distant memory.

Don't trust the Moon; She's always changing.

Your gut churns. The words sound familiar to your ears but feel off in some way, as if some words are different, though the concept is the same.

Don't trust...don't trust the Moon. Don't trust...her. Don't trust.

During your silent walk through the forest, your mind replays Caligo's fragmented sentences, rearranging or changing words to trigger the memory of where you heard it before. But just like your childhood, the memory is absent.