The Luna's Bodyguard [a mature werewolf romance]

Ch 32: The Path

AURORA

Like any castle worth its limestone, the Dornoch Keep had a secret passageway. Or rather, it had a secret warren, full of interconnecting tunnels that the witches used to travel from room to room without being noticed.

The current tunnel led deep into the earth. "Trust me," Isla said, harrying me along. "It's safer for you down here. Word has it the Witted One is looking for you."

I ducked under a protruding root. "The Witted One?"

"The woman in black you saw in the throne room," she explained, pushing firmly between my shoulder blades. "Addison Sinclair, the Crown Prince's Hedgewitch. She taught herself everything she knows, so her magic is selfish and warped. She does not walk the True Path."

"And you fear her," I said, frowning at Isla's hushed tone, even though there were tonnes of stone and earth separating us from the keep.

"Because it's the sensible thing to do," she said, leading me through a nondescript wooden door.

It led to a cavernous underground lake, still and polished as the surface of a mirror. Eerie blue witch lights bobbed in the thick mist that shrouded the water like a veil, preventing me from seeing more than a few feet in front of me. An empty gondola bobbed by the shore, and Isla led me to it, holding my hand so I could step inside.

"Aren't you getting in?" I asked, when she made no move to join me.

"Those who cross rarely come back," she said, tossing me a scrap of cloth. A blindfold, I realised with a hint of trepidation. "Put that on and don't take it off, no matter what you hear."

I went to get up, but the boat was already moving, and it rocked dangerously in the perfectly calm waters. "You're only warning me now?" I hissed, snatching up the blindfold.

"This is the Path," she said, a hint of an apology in her tone. "We all must walk it."

I wanted to point out that a spooky boat ride wasn't exactly walking, but the fog was already swallowing her voice, deadening all but the slow ripple of water parting around the hull. I scrambled to tie the fabric around my eyes. The cloth was stiff and scratchy, like denim that had been left out in the rain and then dried.

No sooner than it settled than the singing started; it sounded like someone's soul was leaking, by far the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard.

Then another voice joined. They split into off-shooting threads of harmony, dissonant and yet sweet. The cloth around my eyes dampened. The itch that resulted was almost unbearable; I wanted to rip the blindfold off my face and bask in the choir's glory, but a voice in my memory barked at me not to be stupid. To pull my hands inside the bus window before they got chopped off by a passing car.

Ophelia would kill me if I took it off, I told myself, gritting my teeth against the waves of compulsion rocking through my body. My fingers twitched. I dug them into my thighs, feeling the bite of my nails through all the layers of chiffon.

It felt like I was locked in that battle for an eternity, and yet I arrived at my destination all at once. The prow of the boat scraped against stone, and I felt my way blindly onto the shore, chipping my nails and wobbling like a drunkard as I stepped overboard.

The singing was louder, now. I could make out two distinct voices, one young and one mature, but both hearty and full of primal longing. The seamless noises separated as I wandered closer, forming syllables. Words. A word, repeating over and over again.

Aurora. Aurora. Aurora.

"Who are you?" I cried out, whirling on the source of the sound.

"You know who we are," the older one rasped.

Dread sluiced down my spine. "Was it you who sent me all those books?"

"No, child. You sent them."

"I don't understand," I said, frustration erring into my tone.

Something long and smooth brushed my cheek, feeling oddly polished and curved, like an enormous talon. The tip snagged on the blindfold's cord and sliced clean through it, as effortlessly as if it was a single gossamer thread from a spider's web.

I scrunched my eyes shut as the cloth fell away, cool air stirring my flyaway hairs, making them curl against my cheeks. I didn't understand how there was a breeze so far down below the ground.

"Yes you do," scolded the ancient voice. "Open your eyes, child. Remember."

And suddenly, I did.

Thoughts? Theories?
Sorry for the short chapter! Work has been crazy, but I have a spicy one coming up next.
Hope you enjoy!