Page 89 of The Blood Moon Hunt

But it’s more than just floating. It’s as though I’m becoming one with the power, merging with it. The energy that was once beneath me is now coursing through me, becoming me. It’s infinite, boundless, but at the same time, it feels familiar—like something that has always been a part of me, something that I have only now unlocked.

And I know. I know this is what I was meant for.

But beneath the warmth, there’s a flicker of something darker, something waiting. I can sense it lurking in the depths of the magic, and it sends a shiver down my spine. The witches. I can feel them now, their presence swirling just beyond the surface, waiting for me to decide what comes next.

I’m not ready to face them yet, but I know they’re there, watching.

Chapter

Fifty-Two

SELENE

The world around me is different. It feels as if I’m no longer part of it, and yet, I’m more connected to it than I’ve ever been. The energy of the warlocks—the power they gave me willingly—surges within me, intertwining with my own, creating a force so immense I feel as though I could reshape reality itself.

I’m floating again, somewhere between worlds, in an altered state that blurs the line between the magic that binds me to the warlocks and the magic I’ve carried all along. Their power hums inside me, a storm waiting to be unleashed. I see everything clearly now. The witches—they are with me, their voices stronger, their presence guiding me.

"You must free us," they whisper. Their voices echo through my mind, urging me forward, their pain still palpable after centuries of being trapped by their own pain.

I reach out with my power, feeling the tendrils of magic that bind the witches’ souls. Their torment is woven into the fabric of this world, tied to the same energy the warlocks gave me. I can feel their grief in my hands now, the weight of it pressing down on me like a burden I was born to carry.

"Let us go," the witches plead.

I close my eyes and let the magic flow through me, guiding my movements. With a deep breath, I focus all my energy on the chains that bind the witches. I can feel them—the shackles, the sorrow, the centuries of injustice. And then, I pull. The magic snaps, the chains dissolve, and suddenly I feel them leave—free at last.

But their whispers remain. "You must destroy the Order," they say. "It’s the only way."

The Order. Their power feels like a looming storm on the horizon, growing stronger with each passing second. But I know something now that I didn’t before. I don’t have to destroy them the way the witches want me to. There is another way.

As I return to my earthly body, the world around me begins to materialize once again. The altar beneath me hums with energy, and I slowly become aware of my surroundings. The warlocks—Adrian, Lucien, Damien,and Ronan—are all here, their gazes fixed on me with a mix of awe and apprehension.

I can feel the panic rising from them. The shadows and the lesser warlocks are closing in fast, but I’m not afraid. I stand up from the altar, feeling the power I wield so effortlessly now, and with a flick of my hand, I cast the shadows out. The darkness recoils, as if struck by an unseen force, retreating into the depths of the forest, banished by the very energy that flows through me.

The lesser warlocks hesitate, still feral, still lost in their hunger. I turn to them, sensing the madness that has consumed them during the Hunt. Without a second thought, I send out a wave of magic, gifting each of them a sliver of my own power, just enough to quell the insatiable hunger gnawing at their minds. They blink, slowly returning to themselves, freed from the bloodlust that had turned them into beasts.

For a moment, everything feels still, almost peaceful, but then I feel it—the presence of the Order. They descend upon the clearing, their power radiating like a suffocating heat. I can feel their eyes on me, hungry, desperate. They want to take me, to use me as a tool to break their curse, just as they’ve used others before me. The witches’ voices whisper in my ear again, urging me to end them here and now.

"Destroy them," they say, their voices sharp, almost vengeful. "End this once and for all."

I look at the warlocks around me, the ones who’ve bound their power to mine, who trusted me with their strength. Adrian, Lucien, Damien, and Ronan—all of them watching me, waiting. I could end it now. I could destroy the Order and finish what the witches couldn’t. But I don’t. Something inside me resists.

There’s another way.

I reach out with my magic, feeling the essence of the Order. Their power is immense, but I can sense the source—the remnants of witch’s power buried deep within them, the very power they consumed centuries ago. It’s not theirs. It never was. And now, it’s mine.

I begin to pull.

The energy flows from the Order like a river, rushing into me. I feel the weight of their power, their centuries of greed and cruelty, but I don’t take it for myself. Instead, I strip them of it, leaving them as nothing more than mortal men. Their immortality fades, their magic vanishes, and they are reduced to what they once were: ordinary, powerless men.

Panic spreads through their ranks as they realize what’s happening. They turn, scrambling to escape, no longer the masters of the Hunt, but prey themselves.

I watch them run, my heart racing. It’s over. They’re gone.

I turn back to the warlocks. Adrian, Lucien, Damien, and Ronan. Their eyes are wide, disbelief and awe mingling on their faces. I step down from the altar andmove toward them, feeling the magic still coursing through me.

I know what I must do.

One by one, I meet their eyes, feeling the weight of each connection, each bond that has formed between us.

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