Chapter 717
Chapter 716: The Thread That Snapped
The underground chamber was cold. Torches burned low in their brackets, casting more shadow than light, their flames flickering unevenly as if the air itself were reluctant to move.
Selith stood at the center of it all, her hunched frame silhouetted against the glow of a single candle on the table before her. The room stretched around her in shadows and shelves—glass jars filled with murky liquids, bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling like upside-down gardens, bone containers stacked in uneven piles.
Her focus was on the book before her.
It lay open on the table, its pages yellowed, its leather cover cracked and worn smooth in places from decades of handling. The diagrams within were still clear—circles within circles, symbols she had traced with her fingers so many times she no longer needed to look at them to know where each line belonged.
The Black Circle had been waiting for this moment for longer than most of its current members had been alive. Generations had passed down the knowledge, the rituals, the hope that one day they would prove what Selith had always known to be true.
The goddess could be overpowered.
The first priest to practice black magic had done it. Dolion had stood against the Moon Goddess herself and had not been destroyed—not truly. He had been bound, chained, buried beneath stone and rune and the weight of centuries. But he had not been erased. That meant something. That meant the goddess was not invincible.
And if Dolion could do it, so could they.
Selith smiled to herself, a thin expression that pulled at the cracks in her lips. Things were finally going to take shape. She had known from the beginning that Victoria would be the one to change their future. There was something about the woman—something relentless, something hungry—that made her the perfect instrument for what the Black Circle needed.
And Victoria’s daughter could fight for all Selith cared. Let the girl struggle. Let her believe she had a chance. The truth was that Victoria had already laid the groundwork years ago. There were markings on the girl, things she had ingested, spells woven into her hair and her blood and her very bones. The child was marked. She had been marked for longer than she probably remembered.
Once they got her back, once they broke her spirit and destroyed that pathetic pack in the North, the transference would be easy.
Selith turned a page in the book and traced her finger along a diagram of a human figure, lines radiating outward from the head and chest. Everything Victoria had done to her daughter over the years had been preparing her for this.
A sharp crack broke the silence.
And her head snapped toward the sound.
One of the herb jars on the shelf behind her had fallen. It lay on the stone floor in pieces, the liquid inside staining the ground, but it was what it held that made her pause.
Selith stared at it.
The shelf was sturdy. The jars were arranged with care. There was no draft, no tremor in the ground, nothing that could have knocked it over.
She did not believe in omens. She believed in magic, in cause and effect, in the careful manipulation of forces that others did not understand. But she also knew that things did not happen without reason.
She approached the broken jar slowly, her bare feet silent against the floor. She crouched down and picked up the piece of hair, turning it over in her crooked fingers.
Her frown deepened.
She set the hair down and rose, her joints protesting with soft cracks. She moved to another shelf and took down a small glass vial filled with black liquid. She placed the hair in it, and the black liquid swallowed it.
Then she took a piece of chalk from a drawer beneath the table and, on the shelf where the jar had been previously, she drew a circle.
It appeared simple, but it wasn’t. Three corners protruded outward, like a triangle pressed into a ring.
She placed the vial in the center.
Then hours passed.
The torches burned lower.
Victoria arrived at some point, descending the spiral staircase with the quiet confidence of someone who owned everything her shadow touched. She wore a deep green gown that night, her dark hair loose over her shoulders, her golden bracelets chiming softly with each step.
Victoria moved to the chair near the wall—the black velvet one with gold trim, the only piece of furniture in the chamber that looked like it belonged somewhere else—and sat down. She watched Selith the way one might watch a slow-moving storm. Curious but not concerned. Interested but not involved.
She had just sat down when the vial burst and black liquid poured down the shelf where it had been.
Victoria sat up straighter. The black liquid released smoke where it touched the circle.
Selith stared at the broken vial, her expression unreadable.
Victoria rose from the chair.
“What is going on p>
Selith did not answer immediately. She crouched and picked up one of the glass shards, turning it over in her fingers. The hair was still in perfect condition, though.
“The girl is trying to break free,” Selith said.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed.
“That should not be possible. That spell has been on her for years. No one knew. No one could sense it. How is it that now, suddenly, she is trying to break free p>
Selith rose and began moving. Her hunched frame was somehow faster than it looked, her hands reaching for jars, for bundles of herbs, for anything that might serve. She muttered under her breath, words that did not belong to any language Victoria recognized.
Victoria watched her for a moment, then stepped forward.
“Selith p>
Selith did not stop.
“You told me,” Victoria said, her voice hardening, “that the girl would not know. That since this spell had been in place, nothing could happen. That the child would never know p>
Selith stopped. She turned to face Victoria, her blackened lips pressed thin, her milky eyes sharp.
“I did say that,” Selith said. “And I believed it p>
“Then how does she know now p>
Selith did not answer immediately. Silence settled between them for a while before she spoke.
“Perhaps she had help. Someone who knows what to look for. Someone who understands what was done to her p>
Victoria’s jaw tightened.
“Her wolf p>
“Perhaps. We cannot be certain for sure,” Selith said to her.
Victoria shook her head, dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand.
“Oh well. It means nothing. Even if she knows, even if she tries, she cannot break free on her own. The spell is too strong. The bindings are too deep p>
Selith nodded.