Crescent (Book 1)

+ 20 +

Food tastes like tar in my mouth. I only eat because I won't have the energy to keep moving if I don't. Saren is the one to bring food to my room, and she insisted she stay until I ate all of it. I'm in no condition to fight it.

Sitting on the edge of my bed with a tray in my lap, I force down mouthfuls of hot porridge as Saren plops down by the fireplace. My mind is too tired for questions, too exhausted to focus on anything but the same mechanical movements: Scoop, lift, chew, swallow. Repeat.

"Has anyone told you of the old gods yet?" Saren wonders aloud. She plays with the sharp edge of a slender blade as she sits with one knee crossed over her opposite leg. Her head is tilted back on the sofa, admiring the paintings scrawled across the ceiling. The golden moon phases cover every room, but in mine, ancient lettering decorates the mantle. I still don't know what it says.

She starts again: "There are seven gods. One for each of the largest moons: Ganymede, Oberon, Triton, Titan, Europa, and the largest: Callisto. Of course, one for the great goddess, the true moon in our sky. The goddess Selene. Luna." I raise my head at that. Rhiannon mentioned them at the party. She's silent for a long moment, and I force myself to continue eating. Scoop, lift, chew, swallow, repeat.

"No one knows how the gods came to be. Just that the gods created nature. They created man, they created wolf. And, with the greed of men, the gods created the first witch... Age-old protectors of harmony, balance. Do you know what happened after the creation of man, wolf, and witch, Brenna?"

I don't. My entire life has been a muddled mess of lies. Fairy tales and children's stories. I think of the words Ceth said to me: "She had an affair with another man, Brenna." I don't want to believe him... I shake my head silently, still too tired to form my mouth around words.

"War," she answers, and the word clangs through me as my eyes settle on the darkness outside my window. "It became known as the Siege of Hunger. The three groups struggled for power. The war went on for decades, each side slowly climbing to the top at one point or another. But, as the witches helped create balance, they could also create imbalance. They created famine, sickness. They won the war and took power."

When I look up, I find that the gilded paintings float across the dark blue ceiling like images come to life. Magic makes the runes flash like metal in firelight. I watch in awe as the moons orbit around each other.

"The witches ruled for an eternity. But, the great goddess, ashamed by the horror of what they'd done, created nature's first true hybrid, to bring balance back to the world."

"Werewolf," I say into the room. I could laugh at the childishness of it. I know enough from what Moira has told me to guess what comes next. "I suppose we brought that balance and light back into the world?"

Saren- for the first time since I met her- smiles, twisting her blade across her knuckles. "You know of the War of the Risen Realms then... The six realms rose from the chaos. Humans were banished to the two most polar edges of the land- the mortal territories- and we have ruled the six great realms ever since."

Strange how much a story changes based on who's telling it. There's a finality to her words as if history is destined to continue on exactly as it has for centuries now- where High Lords rule over realms completely unknown to mortals. As if war and famine, disease and hunger are gone now.

My mind wanders to the woman chained in the room below the castle. "What happened to the witches?"

She shrugs, sheathing her blade again as she stands. The runes dance back into their places, and my gaze drops to watch her. "They were wiped out. Only a few true bloodlines still exist. Their power exists within nature. Within each of the realms."

That's how the realms have magic. "How-"

"That's enough for tonight," she snaps. The tray that was in my lap disappears as she crosses the room.

"Why did you take me to visit the witch yesterday?" I blurt, and Saren pauses before turning over her shoulder to look at me. "You said it yourself: she doesn't take to visitors kindly... So why take me at all?"

Her dark eyes pin me in place as effectively as if she'd thrown her dagger. "Do you consider yourself good at lying?" I say nothing, merely watching, waiting for her to continue. "When December comes, do you have what it takes to look every Lord and Lady in the eye and lie?" My throat is tight at her words, the question taunting me: Do you have what it takes? "I'll see you at dawn tomorrow, Brenna."