Moonstruck

𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓮 | Burning Bane

Draped across the pages of a book that had been left open upon a desk in the library sat a square blue silk scarf. It was the color of calm seas, of the sky on a clear summer day, of eyes that would become the muse behind multitudes of love songs and poems—all but for a single splotch of dried blood in the dead center.

Ellie recognized the book upon which the scarf lay: Modern Werewolf History: The Post-Dijon Era and the Rise of Anti-Lycanthropism. She had seen Mateo reading it for the past several days. During her late-night reading sessions in the library, she had often run into him, and he would spend hours telling her what he'd learned about the evolution of lycanthropic medicine over the centuries or the socioeconomic relations between werewolf packs and human-dominated governments. They had often chatted until the wee hours of dawn.

At least, that was before they'd discovered Mateo was missing.

Seth picked up the scarf and gingerly unfolded it. The blood-stain's crimson coloration, having seeped into the blue silk, created an almost perfect circle of maroon—a morbid yet arresting work of art. Shafts of sunlight streaming through the library windows speared through the scarf and recreated its colors upon the floor: a dark red-violet dot against a background of brilliant blue.

It almost looked like a flag.

"I've seen this color—this particular shade before," Seth said. "Azure. Someone from the Azure Pack must have done this. They broke in here, took away Mateo, and left this" —he held up the scarf, shaking it slightly as if it had done something to personally offend him— "here to taunt us."

Squinting, Ellie peered closer at the scarf. Suddenly, she spotted two tiny cursive letters—a monogram—stitched into a corner with spiderweb-thin silver thread. She pointed. "S. B. Those must be the initials of the werewolf who took him."

"S. B..." Seth narrowed his eyes. "Silvia Bain."

"Who?"

"It has to be her." Seth clenched his hand into a nail-digging fist, crumpling the scarf—bloodstain and all—into a tight ball of silky wrath. It was almost as if the sky had collapsed into a black hole beneath his fingers. "She's the strongest fighter of the Azure Pack. Mateo is no slouch—only she could've taken him so easily."

Ellie looked around them. The heavy wooden chair in front of the desk had been knocked over. It lay there with its legs in the air like a small rodent that had died flat on its back, permanently petrified with helpless fright.

Besides a few stray specks of blood on the floor around the chair, there were no other signs of a struggle. Mateo had evidently put up a fight, but he'd stood no chance against this Silvia Bain, whoever she was.

Ellie bent down and righted the chair. "Where would she take him?"

"Somewhere he can easily be found, but not reached," Seth said, now beginning to pace between the rows of reading tables. "That's why he was taken in the first place—to serve as bait for us. He'll be imprisoned in the dungeons beneath the House of Bleu Celeste. In Lazuli."

Lazuli. The target of their invasion plan. "Should we send a rescue party, then?"

"No." Seth went back to the book Mateo had left open and closed it with surprising gentleness. Despite the mildness of the day, Ellie felt a sudden chill shoot up her spine. "We'll proceed with the invasion: attack Lazuli and take their House by storm."
Ellie hesitated. And then she said, so softly that she could almost fancy she'd only thought the words, "Are you sure that's the right thing to do?"
Seth turned away from her. He had a steely, almost inhumane glint in his gray eyes; in the short time Ellie had known him, he had never looked angrier—or more feral. "I'll do what I must."