Page 7 of Claws for Celebration
As Moira photographed the damning entry, her hands still trembling with shock and discovery, she had the feeling that finding her grandmother's true name was only the beginning. The genealogy held more secrets, she was certain, and every instinct she possessed urged her to keep digging until she understood why Elara Shadowheart had fled her mountain home and hidden her true identity for the rest of her life.
Whatever the reason, Moira suspected it was connected to the strange sensations she'd been experiencing since arriving in Hollow Oak. The way the mountain air seemed to whisper secrets, the warmth that had spread through her when touching certain books, the growing certainty that this misty mountain town held answers to questions she'd never known to ask.
She only hoped she was strong enough to handle whatever truths lay buried in the pages of the past.
5
LUCIEN
The Council Glade sat hidden deep in the heart of Hollow Oak's ancient forest, where moonlight filtered through a canopy of oak and pine to illuminate a natural clearing that had served as a meeting place for centuries. Lucien arrived precisely at midnight, his black tactical gear helping him blend with the shadows as he made his way to the circle of standing stones that marked the sacred space.
Elder Varric was already there, his long silver braids gleaming in the moonlight as he studied a collection of carved runes spread across a flat boulder that served as the Council's table. The wolf elder's pale eyes reflected the light like mirrors, and when he looked up at Lucien's approach, his expression held the weight of knowledge accumulated over decades of supernatural politics.
"You're troubled tonight," Varric observed without preamble. "More so than usual after a day of playing human shopkeeper."
"The archivist arrived," Lucien said, settling onto one of the smaller stones that ringed the clearing. "Moira Marsh. She's discovered her connection to the Shadowheart bloodline."
"Has she now?" Varric's tone carried no surprise, only mild interest. "And how did she take that revelation?"
"About as well as you'd expect from someone who's spent her entire life believing magic doesn't exist." Lucien rubbed his jaw, where tension had been building since he'd left Moira standing in his bookstore, staring at the genealogy that had shattered her understanding of her own family. "She's shaken. Confused. Her grandmother apparently lived over two centuries and never told her the truth about their heritage."
"Elara Shadowheart was always protective of her family," Varric mused. "Perhaps too protective. Secrets have a way of revealing themselves when the time is right."
"You knew she was coming." It wasn't a question. Lucien had learned to read the subtle signs that indicated when the Council's leader was orchestrating events rather than simply responding to them.
"I suspected. The bloodline has been dormant for too long, and the signs have been pointing toward an awakening." Varric gestured to the runes scattered across the stone table. "These readings began three days ago. Magical disturbances at our borders, old wards flickering, protective spells showing strain. All coinciding with a certain archivist's journey into our mountains."
Before Lucien could respond, footsteps echoed through the trees as other Council members arrived. Maeve Cross emerged from the eastern path, her short black hair catching moonlight as she nodded to both men. The lioness shifter carried herself with the controlled aggression of someone always ready for a fight, her guard duties having honed her instincts to a razor's edge.
"Evening, boys," she said, settling beside Lucien with feline grace. "Please tell me we're not dealing with another vampiresituation. I'm still finding fang marks in my furniture from the last incursion."
"Worse," Elder Bram intoned as he joined their circle. The conservative council member looked like every stern politician Lucien had ever seen, his gray beard perfectly trimmed and his dark robes immaculate despite the forest trek. "Rogue spirits testing our perimeter defenses. They began probing yesterday evening, growing bolder with each passing hour."
Miriam Caldwell was the last to arrive, her sensible shoes making soft sounds on the forest floor as she approached their gathering. Despite her mundane appearance, she carried herself with the quiet authority of someone who understood both human and supernatural politics.
"The spirits aren't random," she reported without preamble. "I've been monitoring the disturbances from my office. They're specifically targeting areas where the old bloodline magic was strongest. The Shadowheart family's original homestead. The abandoned ritual sites. Even the section of forest where Elara's grandmother used to gather herbs."
"They're drawn to awakening power," Varric concluded. "Moira's presence is stirring magical currents that have been dormant for decades."
Lucien's panther stirred restlessly beneath his skin, reacting to the implied threat to their mate with territorial aggression. The big cat wanted to abandon this meeting, return to the bookstore where Moira's scent still lingered among the ancient tomes, and ensure her safety through direct protection.
"How much does she know?" Bram asked, his pale eyes reflecting disapproval. "Humans who stumble into our world unprepared often become liabilities."
"She knows something isn't normal about Hollow Oak," Lucien said carefully. "But she's still rationalizing thesupernatural elements she's encountered. Give her time, and she'll accept the truth."
"Time we may not have," Maeve interjected. "If these spirits are growing bolder, they'll eventually make a direct move on the town. We need to know whether Miss Marsh is going to be an asset or a target."
"Both, most likely," Varric said with the dry humor that had carried him through decades of supernatural crises. "Powerful bloodlines rarely come without complications."
The elder began arranging the runes into specific patterns, their carved surfaces glowing softly in response to his touch. "Lucien, you'll continue monitoring her magical development. Stay close, but don't force revelations she's not ready to handle. Things will come to her the more time she spends in the archives, whether she wants them to or not."
"And if the spirits escalate their probing?" Lucien asked, though his protective instincts already provided the answer.
"Then we protect her with everything we have." Varric's voice carried the finality of absolute authority. "The Shadowheart bloodline has been guardian magic for this town since its founding. It’s part of what made the Veil. If Moira inherits even a fraction of her ancestor's power, she could strengthen our defenses beyond anything we've achieved in the past century."
"Or she could lose control and tear the whole mountain apart," Bram added pessimistically.
“Isn’t that the risk with every supernatural being?” Maeve asked dryly getting a sharp laugh from Emmett, a wolf shifter standing in the corner watching the perimeter.
