Page 9 of Wolf Queen Ruin
“Felix is a shifter, in case you didn’t know, and he doesn’t just catalog shifter history,” I explained as I pulled out the first volume with gloved hands.“He preserves it.After the Great Purge, when vampires declared war on us and so many records were destroyed, collections like this became our only connection to our origins.”
Damien’s shoulders tensed.“The systematic destruction of shifter historical documents is one of supernatural history’s greatest tragedies.”
He handled an ancient scroll with unexpected reverence, his fingers tracing the preservation runes with something like regret.
“You sound personally affected,” I said.“But you’re not a shifter.”
His electric-blue eyes met mine, and for a moment I glimpsed something wounded in them before his expression smoothed over.“History lost is everyone’s loss, regardless of species.Knowledge destroyed can never be truly recovered.”
“That’s…surprisingly enlightened.”
“I’m full of surprises,” he replied with a faint smile.“Shall we begin our research?”
I opened the oldest volume with careful hands, the gloves cool against my skin.
The pages smelled of time and magic, that distinctive scent of knowledge preserved beyond its natural lifespan.The text was written in proto-Lycan.
For the next several hours, we worked in relative silence, each developing our own approach.I flipped through texts rapidly, scanning for keywords and following intuitive connections between different sources.Damien worked methodically through one document at a time.
“This would go faster if you weren’t treating each page like it might contain the secrets of the universe,” I finally said, after he’d spent ten full minutes on a single paragraph.
He looked up, genuine enjoyment lighting his features.“Perhaps it does.Each page is a conversation with someone long gone.”
I stared at him, momentarily speechless.“So you’ve always been a nerd, or…?”
“You’re the one who invited me here, so who’s really the nerd?”
“I’m not waxing poetic while drooling, but yes, books put a little extra sparkle in my dumpster fire.”
With a devastating smile that I had no right staring at, he turned the book so I could see and pointed to a faded illustration.“This passage speaks of the Wolf Queen’s hiding places, created to protect her most valuable creations from those who would misuse them.These symbols indicate trials designed to test the character of those seeking her treasures.Not merely puzzles, but moral challenges.”
Deadly mystical traps.My favorite.
“Great,” I muttered.“Another tomb raiding job with bonus murder puzzles.Just what I was hoping for.”
Damien raised an eyebrow, but his eyes crinkled at the corners.“I thought this was precisely the type of challenge you specialized in?”
“Oh, it is.Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it while doing it spectacularly well.”I squinted at the text surrounding the illustration.“Wait, this says something about ‘the Queen’s judgment falls hardest on those of tainted blood.’What does that mean?”
“I believe it refers to intent,” Damien explained, his expression sobering.“The Wolf Queen was known for her ability to sense deception and malice.Her protective magic would respond to the seeker’s purpose, harshly to those seeking power for its own sake, but guiding those seeking healing.”
“So the traps get extra murder-y if you’re there for the wrong reasons?”I frowned.“What counts as the ‘right’ reasons, then?”
“Healing,” he said simply.“The Wolf Queen created the Shadow Fang primarily as a healing tool, though legends also speak of its power as a weapon.”
“And you’re after it for healing only, right?Not the weapon part?”
Pain, raw and human, hardened his expression.“As I said before, yes.”
“Yes to which part?”
Before he could form a response, my stomach growled loud enough that Damien actually looked startled.
My whole face flushed as I bowed my head toward the table I sat at.“Sorry.Jesus.How embarrassing.”
“No need to apologize,” he said with an unexpected hint of humor.“Perhaps a break would help.You’ve been working for nearly five hours without stopping.”
I stretched, feeling my spine pop in several satisfying places.“Five hours?No wonder my eyeballs feel like they’ve been rolled in sand.”
