Chapter 340: When Stone Watches Back

Eldric stared at Sophia as if she might fracture if he breathed too loudly.

She stood near the altar, shoulders tense, chest rising and falling too quickly, as though the shrine had stolen the air from her lungs and forgotten to give it back. The pale stone behind her had gone quiet again—no hum, no pulse—just cold silence, as if nothing had happened at all.

But Eldric knew better.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Sophia straightened abruptly instead.

The movement was too fast. Her knees buckled, and she swayed, vision swimming. Eldric stepped forward instinctively, hands outstretched.

"Sophia—"

"I’m fine." Her voice was sharp, brittle. She shook her head, pulling away before his fingers could close around her arm. "Just—give me a second."

She inhaled deeply, once, twice, forcing the air down into her lungs until the ringing in her ears dulled to something manageable. Her hands trembled, but she curled them into fists, grounding herself in the ache of her nails biting into her palms.

Eldric watched her closely, worry flickering across his face. "You don’t look—"

"I said I’m fine." She steadied herself, then looked at him fully, eyes still too wide, too bright. "I’ll... I’ll talk to you later."

"I don’t understand. We have to finish what we started here," Eldric told her.

"I know, okay? I do, but I just—" She swallowed, her voice quieter now. "I need to think, Eldric. I need to get my thoughts straight."

Eldric stared at her. As much as he wanted her to continue with what they were doing, he also understood that she needed time. What she had seen must be messing with her mind, and she must be trying to come to terms with it. She likely had more questions than answers right now.

Her steps were uneven at first, then faster—almost too fast—boots crunching against frost-dusted ground as she left the shrine behind. She didn’t look back.

Eldric remained where he was, staring after her long after she disappeared from view.

---

Sophia didn’t slow down until the pack gates came into view.

Her thoughts were chaos, colliding and folding in on themselves, refusing to settle into anything coherent. That gaze—those eyes—refused to leave her mind.

Was it a Trihydra? she asked herself. The eyes were familiar. She had seen them once before, but they had belonged to a Trihydra. Maybe that was it. Or maybe it was different, and if it was, then who did—no. She stopped herself, shaking her head. Rather than who, she should be asking what those eyes belonged to.

And why did this feel different too? It was like the beast—or whatever it was—had been watching her this time. Paying close attention to her. Like it was closer.

She shook her head sharply, as if she could dislodge the image that way. And while that troubled her, something else disturbed her too—the words written on the shrine.

They had not been empty. They were raw and emotional in a way that made her chest ache, like whoever wrote them had been in pain.

She had no idea if it was a prayer, a lament, or a foretelling.

Or all three at once.

Her pace quickened.

If she could just understand the Moon Goddess better—if she could learn who Luna’mera truly was beyond stories and half-remembered hymns—maybe the words would finally make sense.

If she could understand why someone would write something like that on the altar...

The thought struck her mid-step.

The book.

Her heart jumped.

She had taken a book from the library—one she had meant to read and then forgotten entirely. It was about the Moon Goddess. She had started it but hadn’t gone far because she’d fallen asleep.

That was the night she had dreamed about Zena, around the festival period. She wasn’t even surprised she had forgotten the book. She had been so caught up with Orion and the festival—no. She shook her head. That was a lie. She had been so caught up with Orion. That was the truth.

She hadn’t even been that focused on the festival.

But that didn’t matter now.

Her steps turned into a near run.

She barely avoided colliding with a wolf rounding the path ahead of her, its gray fur dusted with frost.

"Oh—sorry!" Sophia blurted automatically, sidestepping.

The wolf shifted smoothly into human form, brows furrowing, but she was already past him, barely registering his presence. She didn’t even notice the two figures now staring at her with frowns plastered on their faces.

Behind her, Joren slowed, turning to Dren, who had stopped beside him.

"That’s Sophia, isn’t it?" Joren asked, frowning.

Dren inhaled subtly, scenting the air. "Yeah," he said. "I’d recognize her scent anywhere."

"She didn’t even see us."

"No," Dren murmured. "Which means something is wrong. Sophia isn’t the type to ignore us when she sees us. That’s not possible."

"Should we follow her?" Joren asked, but then noticed Dren was already walking ahead.

Joren rolled his eyes. "Of course. You didn’t think I wouldn’t want to go too?"

Dren turned to him. "If you want to, then move fast and stop talking."

Joren sighed, then closed the distance between them.

Meanwhile, Sophia didn’t hear them. She kept moving, as fast as her short legs would allow, toward her destination.

She pushed open the door to her home and rushed inside, already scanning the room with frantic eyes.

"Okay," she muttered. "Think. Think."

The last time she’d seen the book had been during the festival. She remembered setting it down on her bed after falling asleep while reading.

But then she remembered the time Orion had helped her clean her home. He must have moved the book somewhere else.

She moved quickly, pulling books down from the shelf, stacking them haphazardly on the floor. Papers slid off the table as she searched beneath them. She checked the chair, under it, behind it.

Nothing.

Her breathing grew shallow.

"No, no, no..."

She dropped to her knees and lifted the edge of her bed, checking underneath. Nothing. She flipped the mattress over—still nothing. Everything was spotless.

She rushed into the barely furnished kitchen, opening cabinets that held nothing but basic supplies, checking anyway as desperation overrode logic.

Nothing.

Her chest tightened painfully.