Page 36 of King of Moon and Claws

Serife had gathered everything she needed to start a scrying session, a special method of casting a second sight onto the battlefield. It was something Elora had certainly heard of but never saw it in action.

She turned from the abyss of darkness and went to Serife, who pointed at the windows just before Elora pulled up a chair.

“Get those curtains, will you?” she asked. “The room needs to be as dark as possible for the most accurate image to appear.”

Elora did as she asked, closing the curtains to the outside world. She followed the flickering candlelight back to the table and sat next to Serife already taking deep breaths with her eyes shut.

She gazed at the setup, which consisted of a navy blue glass bowl, three lit candles, and a quartz crystal shimmering at the center of the bowl. The bowl itself was filled with rainwater, which Serife had remarked had a higher cleansing potential than spring or tap.

“Now, I want you to close your eyes with me,” Serife said. “Breathe deeply and think about Bastian. Not just the physical, tangible elements of your relationship, but the intangible. Something you cannot touch but only feel.”

Elora did as she was asked and closed her eyes.

She didn’t realize how hard her pulse was beating until she began to focus inward. Her heart felt like a mad bird, tossing itself against the cages of her ribs. For a moment, she thought it might burst out of her chest until she felt precisely what Serife had been describing. The eternal bond.

She saw Bastian in her mind the way he was in the hot springs. How hungry those emerald eyes were for her naked body, but the hunger transcended lust. The way his gritty hands felt as he comforted her in the garden. The vulnerability of the moment he shared his sacred space of the mystical forest beyond the garden walls.

Elora had him. He was in her, a precious jewel settled into her on a cellular level. Then, sensing the connection, Serife told her to cast her gaze into the bowl.

“Look down with soft eyes and tell me what you see.”

Elora did as she was told, reeling from the trance, and was nearly undone from shock.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

Sheer carnage presented itself on the battlefield. Both vampire and wolf alike were slaughtering each other, all in the name of some vague war. Elora wandered with her third eye through the throngs of paranormals, many bathed in blood, shrieking in agony or anticipation of sweet death. Her heart was a kettledrum in her chest.

But finally, she found him. And Elora was alarmed.

“Bastian!” she said aloud.

Serife, who was peering into the bowl with Elora, reached out to grasp her forearm.

“He can’t hear you, honey. Scrying only works visually.”

Elora wished she was a shifter. If she were, she could run out there and fight alongside the king. But that likely wouldn’t do any good. The connection she had found in her mind felt altered, watching him act so violent and so angry.

Then it dawned on her.

“I spoke to him telepathically before,” Elora said, watching as Bastian continued his callous attacks. “Do you think I could do that now?”

Serife smiled. It was a sweet one, and Elora knew her answer.

“You tell me, darling. As I said before, you are far more powerful than you could ever dream of being. So dream, then.”

Elora returned her gaze to the bowl where Bastian seemed to be searching for something. She took a few deep breaths and found their connection again with the ease of walking a familiar and beloved hiking trail.

Bastian?

She saw him stop in his tracks in the scrying bowl. The emerald eyes shined like headlights in the gloomy storm, searching for the disembodied voice of his mate.

Elora? I thought you were leaving.

His voice in her mind was sharp and harsh. It was him, but it didn’t sound like him. More like an evil twin that she wasn’t interested in meeting.

Elora implored him to stop what he was doing and to listen to her. She realized that he had been scanning the clashing of vampires and wolves when a pair of glowing red eyes cut through the black like a knife through flesh. Vasilis, taunting him.

“Fuck,” Elora muttered.

---