Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 434

Chapter 434: Lisa: Rites

LISA

The pyres stretch across the field like fallen stars, each one a testament to another life lost. Twenty-seven flames reach toward the sky, and my heart aches for every single one. There's a sound barrier over the field, so wolves can howl and mourn.

It's haunting.

Ava stands before the first pyre, her voice steady as she speaks the names. She's grown so much. Even from my position at the back of the crowd, I can see how each name costs her, how she refuses to rush through them, even as her voice shakes.

My fingers find the familiar spot on my thigh, massaging the burning sensation that's been growing worse over the past hour. The pain makes me shift my weight, trying to find a comfortable position.

A particularly mournful howl rises above the others. Wolves of all colors lift their heads to join the lament. Their grief is raw in a way human mourning could never be, and my heart aches.

This pack has been through so much, and it's hard not to feel guilty as I remember my part in the first massacre.

Magister Orion is one of the few of us standing on two feet. Almost all the shifters are in their wolf forms as they grieve. Several of his Fae friends are clustered near him; they're all helping to maintain the sound barrier, faces impassive, despite the clear distrust they've been treated with since arriving here.

I know that feeling well.

The burning in my leg spikes, forcing me to take a half-step back. Normally, I would be surrounded by guards. Right now, they're in their wolf forms, mourning with the others, though only feet away.

None of the names Ava recites are particularly memorable to me, but my heart hurts for their families and this pack I belong to.

both from smoke and the emotions surrounding this

of pain

a rune that glows briefly before fading into the flames. It's something Magister Orion taught her, a rune he said was a

she stops. Twenty-seven times she speaks. Twenty-seven times the pack's howls rise in

my attention,

gather interest, just the darkness of night and stars in the sky. My thigh burns so much. Maybe walking will stretch

do just

of the other, taking me away from the rites, away

continue their mournful song and the Fae remain focused on their barrier

One step.

Then another.

grows stronger with each step, like an invisible rope tied around me, pulling me forward. My thigh burns, but it's different from the usual

of the other, drawn

floats through my mind, but it's hazy,

"Lisa?"

clears the fog in

thigh recedes to its usual dull throb. I blink, awareness rushing back like a

the huge Fae watching me with

says, waving a hand in my direction. The air is suddenly sweeter, clearer, and

feeling, I head toward the Magister, who pats my shoulder in an awkward cadence, too rough sometimes and barely brushing me the next. Like

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