The Moon's Thread

VANESSA

"I've been expecting you."

The Priestess's words hung in the air between us, sending a shiver down my spine despite the warm summer breeze. I glanced at Roman, finding his jaw tight with tension. Neither of us had anticipated being expected.

How long had she known we would come? What else did she know?

"Please, enter," she said, stepping aside to welcome us into the sanctuary.

The space inside was simple yet profound—stone walls adorned with ancient pack symbols, bundles of dried herbs hanging from wooden beams, and a central hearth where a small fire crackled. The air smelled of sage and something deeper, older—like earth after rain.

"Sit," the Priestess gestured to cushions arranged near the hearth.

Roman and I settled across from each other, the fire between us casting dancing shadows across his features. His eyes never left mine, the golden-brown depths reflecting the flames.