Silver Skin

49

Blame the blameless
~
Rexton
~

Soulless.

Hardened.

What they wanted for him, Rexton saw within everyone else in this castle of devils and demons. Vacant eyes, empty smiles and brutal intentions.

Rexton could see no soul within Ravyn's moonlit eyes even as they sparked with knowledge only he knew.

It was quite the talent, to know everything. The minor, the major details and it could only be told if the oracle allowed it.

Ravyn abused the powers of the moon, and the gifts that came with it. The foresight, prophecy-telling, communication to the unknown and moon-gifted abilities that stretched high and beyond.

For a vampire.

Being around the dead came with the cost of losing a part of yourself.

"Does Adriana have something over you?" Rexton asked, hearing the slow and balanced heartbeat of the oracle that didn't pick up or falter. A smooth rhythm.

Ravyn elegantly shrugged and twiddled his thumbs over each other. "No one has anything over me, not even the moon."

Rexton blinked.

Not even the moon.

"What kind of oracle are you?"

The lycanthropy curse was a supernatural system
that was forever interlinked.

Rexton knew that much.

Whoever cursed Rexton's family and turned their pack — whatever it was, it gifted humans with the sight to guide lycans. Oracles.

If the curse-maker couldn't be here to guide, oracles could be.

If the curse-maker couldn't humane the lycans, to control the curse and why it was bestowed upon them, mates could.

Ravyn didn't guide lycans, he didn't unite mates together and he didn't aid packs in times of need.

An oracle was a source an Alpha didn't know they needed. They were the vine of knowledge no one could comprehend. They were close to a celestial being walking the earth.

"We are told we must serve the moon, but I serve blood." Ravyn explained simply with a shrug.

He was prickled with pride and there was nothing more to understand.

"You serve Lilith," Rexton gathered.

"Shouldn't we all?"

Ravyn began to walk away, but not before he took his leave with a parting sentence, a foresight to be unravelled. "I have an inkling ... that a lot of blood will be spilled. Enjoy the remainder of your night, hybrid."

Rexton was left at a standstill, and Ravyn strolled off down the hall.

Safety wouldn't come to his family, would it?

Rexton wanted to crawl back to his bed chambers and finally give himself the sleep he deserved. He hadn't slept in hours, hadn't eaten or drank a droplet of anything. He was too warped in his head, thoughts drowning him to the shoulders of what would become of his family, his brothers, his nephew and of him.

His head was barely floating above the liquid that turned him into what he was. Blood of Lilith.

But he couldn't sleep. Not yet. Because if he did, he might as well be back in his tomb in the cave.

The rest of Cole's scent drifted pass the throne room, where Lycus was imprisoned and down another set of staircases that reached the steel door of the dungeons.