Chapter 639: The Pages That Remembered the Moon

Chapter 638: The Pages That Remembered the Moon

Sophia’s hands moved slowly over the pages of the book, her fingertips gliding across the worn surface as though the parchment might react if she pressed too hard.

The book did not feel like the others she had read before.

It felt... different.

There was a quiet weight to it, not in how heavy it was physically, but in the way it seemed to pull her attention deeper the longer she held it open, as though it recognized her in some silent, unseen way.

Her gaze lingered on the illustration of the wolf.

It was drawn in dark, deliberate strokes, its form both graceful and commanding, its fur almost blending into the shadows around it. The creature’s eyes, however, were unmistakable—sharp, ancient, and aware in a way that made something inside her chest tighten without reason.

And there, centered between its brows, was the crescent mark.

Sophia’s fingers slowed against the page.

She didn’t realize she had stopped breathing until her lungs gently reminded her.

Something about the wolf called to her.

Her wolf stirred faintly inside her, not speaking in words, but in something softer—an instinctive recognition that made her pause even further.

Her fingers traced the edge of the drawing once more before she forced herself to turn the page.

The paper shifted with a soft rustle.

And she froze.

The next illustration held her completely still.

It was not a wolf this time.

It was two figures.

A man and a woman, both kneeling side by side, their backs turned toward her as though they were facing something far beyond the frame of the page itself.

On their backs were marks.

Sophia’s breath caught as her eyes traced them.

The woman bore a mark that spread across her back like flowing lunar light, a crescent at its center surrounded by intricate, radiant patterns that seemed to ripple even in ink. It was vast, elegant, almost alive in its design, as though it had been painted not by hand but by something far more intentional.

The man beside her carried a similar mark, though shaped differently—sharper in structure, yet unmistakably connected to hers, as though the two designs were pieces of the same celestial language.

Sophia’s fingers hovered over the page.

She didn’t touch it at first.

She only looked.

Just below the illustration, names were written in fading ink.

The woman was named Selene.

The man... Dolion.

Her brows knit slightly as she read it again, as though repetition might change what she was seeing.

Selene.

Dolion.

Selene was the Moon Goddess.

Sophia was confused, so she turned the page and continued reading, and there she found who Dolion was and who Noctis was.

Dolion had been the husband of the goddess, and Noctis... his wolf.

That was the last thing she read before sleep took over.

And when she woke up... she was no longer in her room but in a cave.

Cold air pressed against her skin. Stone remained beneath her body where she now lay.

The faint scent of damp earth and something metallic filled her senses, grounding her into a place she did not recognize at first.

Her breath caught sharply as her eyes snapped open.

She was bound.

Her wrists and ankles were restrained against a cold, unyielding surface. Panic surged through her in a violent wave, stealing the air from her lungs as she tugged instinctively against the restraints.

No response.

Only tightening pressure.

"Please—" her voice broke before it could fully form. "Please, stop—someone—"

Her throat burned as the words left her, raw and fractured.

Her voice echoed into the cave, but no answer came.

Only the sound of chanting. Soft and inhumane.

She turned her head weakly and noticed a woman standing before her... Morwen, she would later introduce herself as.

Her face was half-hidden in shadow, her hands steady as she worked with something sharp and glinting under torchlight.

Sophia didn’t need to understand the language of the chant to know what it was.

It felt wrong.

Deeply wrong.

Dark magic pressed against the edges of her senses, heavy and suffocating, as though the air itself resisted it and failed.

Pain came next.

Each cut carved into her skin stole another piece of her breath, another fragment of her strength.

She screamed until her voice broke.

Until it no longer carried sound, only desperation.

"Mum—!" she cried out, the word tearing from her instinct more than her mind.

"Mum, please!"

The word echoed again and again into emptiness.

Morwen did not stop.

She only continued as though Sophia were nothing more than part of a ritual already decided.

Time lost meaning after that until her mother arrived.

Sophia’s head lifted weakly, hope igniting in her chest so sharply it hurt.

Relief flooded her so quickly it nearly made her collapse in on itself as her mother... Victoria walked in.

She stepped into the firelight, her expression calm, composed, almost irritated—as though the sound of Sophia’s suffering was an inconvenience rather than a concern.

"Mum..." Sophia whispered, her voice trembling with relief. "Mum, help me..."

Victoria did not look at her.

"Is it done yet?" she asked instead.

Morwen exhaled sharply. "Almost."

"Mum?" she whispered again, smaller this time. "What’s going on...?"

Victoria finally looked at her.

Not with concern or love but with something closer to disgust.

"I told you," Victoria said flatly, "you were always too loud."

Sophia’s chest tightened.

"I can do better," she cried, desperation breaking through again. "I can try harder—just please—"

Victoria’s expression hardened.

"You’ve already failed enough."

Something inside Sophia cracked.

Then the cave erupted into chaos.

Morwen gasped suddenly, staggering backward, her chant breaking mid-syllable as blood surfaced at her lips.

Victoria’s head snapped toward her sharply. "What did you do?"

Morwen collapsed.

The ritual faltered.

And Sophia—barely conscious, barely aware—was dragged away.

And that was all the opportunity she needed.

A stolen knife.

A struggle.

A life taken in fear and survival.

And then she ran, warriors ordered by Victoria going after her until she heard a voice telling her to go north.

And north she went, though not without injury. Snow fell around her, her vision blurry, blood dripping from parts of her body, and finally she reached a shrine.

She did not know if she was supposed to be there, but something about it called to her, just like the wolf in the book, and she finally got to the altar. The moon shone bright, and she remembered her last thought being how beautiful the snow was and that it looked familiar.

And then everything went blank.

This too, she would forget.

But now... she remembered everything.