Page 32 of Gua rdian of Blood and Shadow

We reached a circular clearing at the heart of the graveyard, ringed by eight marble statues of the goddess in various forms and ages, each representing a different lunar phase. The ground beneath my feet hummed with old power, making my skin prickle.

In the new moon position stood a statue of Selene as a child, her marble form barely visible in the darkness, small hands raised in what could be either surrender or defense. Something in her posture—the tension in her shoulders or the wariness in her stance—made it seem like she was ready to run away.

The waxing crescent depicted her as a young woman, half her face obscured by a cloak, one foot positioned as though preparing to slip away and hide.

The first quarter showed her with child, her stone hands cradling a swollen belly, her face a complex blend of fear and fierce protectiveness. I felt a phantom ache in my womb, remembering those months with Micah growing inside me, terrified of what the world might do to him.

The waxing gibbous portrayed Selene in a moment of quiet power. Her marble hands were outstretched, as if conducting unseen energies that rippled through the stone itself. Silver threads of moonlight seemed woven into her hair, and her eyes held a knowing that transcended mortal concerns.

The full moon statue dominated the circle—Selene at the height of her power, nude and unashamed, arms spread wide as though embracing the vastness of her true nature. Silver veins ran through the marble, catching moonlight in a way that made her seem almost alive.

The waning gibbous depicted her making a sacrifice, offering something precious with reluctant hands. The last quarter showed her between worlds, one foot planted firmly in the physical realm while the other seemed to dissolve into rippling stone. And finally, the waning crescent portrayed her return—changed, marked by her journey, but carrying a quiet determination in eyes that had witnessed worlds beyond mortal understanding.

I stared at the progression, a strange vertigo sweeping through me.

“Consorts must remain outside the circle,” Isador said, her voice cutting through the still night. She passed between two statues and beckoned me to join her with an outstretched hand. “Every High Queen who came before you is buried in this sacred ground.” She paused, then added with deliberate weight, “Except, of course, your mother.”

The reminder of my mom’s missing body sent a familiar ache through my chest. Weighed down by that reminder, I followed as bade, coming to stand beside Isador.

At the center of the circle lay a small pool of still water, maybe three feet across. Its surface was untouched by even the gentlest breeze, a perfect mirror reflecting both the nearly full moon above and my face below.

“What exactly are we doing out here?” I asked, focusing on the task rather than on old wounds.

Isador’s smile was sharp in the darkness. “Teaching you to listen.” She gestured to the ground. “Sit.”

I eyed the dew-soaked grass, hesitating for only a moment before lowering myself to the ground, hyper-aware of the ancient queens buried beneath us. The power in the earth pulsed, like a heartbeat just slightly out of sync with my own.

“Close your eyes,” Isador instructed, slowly pacing around the pool. “Reach for the bonds you share with your consorts, but don’t pull on them. Justfeelthem. Acknowledge them and set them aside. They are not our focus this night.”

I did as instructed. At first, all I sensed was the damp chill seeping through my leggings, but I pushed that aside, inconsequential. Four bright threads of connection lit up my awareness. Javier’s was like touching a live wire, electric and protective. Bastian’s felt wild and untamed, crackling with energy that could never be fully contained. Ash’s steady presence reminded me of ancient stone, weathered but unbreakable. Thane was an ocean, deep, endless, eternal.

Another cord, faint and stretching into the distance. Gavin. I couldn’t sense much of him other than that he was still alive, and even that tenuous connection provided comfort, though his absence ached like a phantom limb.

“Good,” Isador murmured. “Now reach deeper. Past the bonds, past your own power. Feel the earth beneath you, the memories in these stones, in your blood.”

Taking a deep breath, I sank my awareness into the ground like roots seeking water. At first, there was only darkness.

But then,something.

Like tuning into a distant radio station, voices began to whisper at the edges of my awareness. Not just voices—emotions, memories, fragments of lives. The power thrumming through the earth wasn’t just magic, but the collected essence of generations of queens.

Unlike the blinding surge that had nearly shattered me in the Selenarium, this power rose slowly like the tide, each pulse bringing new awareness rather than drowning me. The ritual chamber had forced power into me, but here, the magic recognized something within me, answering a call I hadn’t consciously made.

My breath caught as the first clear image formed: a woman with silver-streaked hair standing exactly where I sat, her face lifted to a blood moon. The vision shifted to another queen weeping over a fallen consort, her grief so raw it made my chest ache. More images followed, faster now—centuries of triumphs and sacrifices spinning past.

“Focus,” Isador’s voice cut through the chaos. “Don’t let the memories overwhelm you. You’re not here to absorb their existence, but to request their guidance and to learn from their experience.”

I clenched my jaw and tried to steady myself, to find some anchor point in the flood. I opened my eyes, focusing on the reflection of the moon in the pool. Throughout the clearing, the moonlight began to bend, streaming around the statues, weaving into something tangible. The clearing grew thick with power.

Through our bonds, I felt my consorts’ alarm spike. Javier lunged forward, but the woven moonlight proved to be an impenetrable barrier. The others paced, seeking a way through.

“Isador? Is this what’s supposed to happen?”

But when I searched for her within the statue circle, I found the clearing was no longer empty. Spirits crowded the space, dozens of women, their opalescent forms glowing in the strange, concentrated moonlight. Queens from every era of vampire history. I searched for Isador among them, finally finding her on the opposite side of the pool, staring around with widened eyes.

At all the queens who were staring atme.

My heart thundered against my ribs as the spirits watched me, waiting. But for what? For me?

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