His Forsaken Luna-Chapter 137: Children of Day (2)

The iron scent of blood lingered in the cold, damp air as I descended into the dungeon. My footsteps echoed against the stone walls, each one punctuated by the faint whispers of madness that seemed to cling to this place like a shroud. The torches lining the narrow corridor flickered, casting long, shifting shadows. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, but it did little to banish the chill.

Alaric and Beta Hakon stood by the cell, their faces grim and their postures tense. My brother carried himself with his usual commanding presence, though there was a tightness around his jaw that betrayed his frustration. Hakon stood at his side, his arms crossed and his expression dark. The two of them loomed over the prisoners, their figures framed by the weak torchlight spilling into the cell.

Inside, three figures crouched in the filth. Their forms were twisted and gaunt, their skin stretched thin over their bones. Their eyes burned with a feral intensity, and their nails had grown into black, curved claws that glinted like obsidian. Two of them muttered incoherently, their voices a chaotic jumble of words and growls. The third sat silently, watching with an eerie calm that unsettled me more than the others’ madness.

"Idalia," Alaric greeted me without turning, his voice low and steady. "We’ve been waiting."

That sentence alone made it feel even creepier in here. I stepped closer, my eyes sweeping over the prisoners. "These are the ones who attacked the palace?"

Hakon nodded, his expression grim. "Servants. Turned into Blood Wraiths. The others we decapitated."

I studied them carefully, noting the sharpness of their nails and the way their bodies seemed to vibrate with a barely contained energy. "And you’ve learned nothing from them?"

"The two are useless," Hakon growled, gesturing to the muttering pair. "Mad as rabid dogs. I tried questioning them, but they’re too far gone."

"Tried questioning them," Alaric repeated dryly, his eyes flicking to the bloodstained blade Hakon held. "He means he tortured them."

Hakon didn’t deny it. "They heal fast. Even from silver. Watch." He stepped into the cell and drove his blade into one of the Wraiths’ hearts. It let out a guttural scream before collapsing to the ground, motionless.

I grimaced at the violence. They’d always kept me separate from places such as this, but I wanted to be here.

We waited in silence, the air heavy with anticipation. Moments passed. Then, with a sudden, jarring motion, the creature’s hand shot out, its claws raking across Hakon’s forearm before he could step back. He cursed, clutching his arm as the Wraith’s body stilled once more.

"Decapitation kills them," Alaric said, his tone cold and analytical. "But nothing else?"

Hakon grimaced, examining his bleeding arm. "Am I... infected?"

Before anyone could answer, the silent Wraith spoke, his voice startlingly clear. "It is a scratch. You will not turn into... whatever we are from it."

All three of us turned to him. I tilted my head, studying him more closely. His face was familiar, though gaunt and shadowed by his transformation. Recognition clicked into place. "You were one of the cooks," I said, my voice laced with disbelief.

He nodded, his expression weary but lucid. "I was."

"You’re not like the others," I observed. "How do you know Beta Hakon won’t turn?"

He hesitated, then began to speak, his voice low and hesitant. "I remember... one of the children we saved a while ago. He came to the kitchen complaining of still being hungry... so hungry..." I swallowed like he understood the starvation. "He bit me, fed from me, and I passed out. I woke after being fed back some blood from a black-haired child.

And after that, the hunger took over. I ... attacked."

The cook looked guilty, looking down, but there was a crazed gleam in his eyes that seemed to throb occasionally.

I exchanged a glance with Alaric, whose expression had darkened. "Your reasoning is hunger?" he asked, his tone sharp.

The cook nodded. "It is... overwhelming. Unbearable."

Alaric turned to me. "Is there anything else you want to know? I think we are done here."

’The Blood Wraiths seem to be created, and some transform badly. I think this time it was on purpose because Ciro wanted the children... There are others using them to do their bidding,’ I mind link Alaric.

’Why would a child turn them when they are the ones to be taken?’ Alaric made a perfectly good point.

"They could have been a part of the plan from the beginning? I don’t know... But I did learn that too much blood can make the newborn Bloodwraiths mad,’ I explain and sigh, looking at the prisoners.

I stepped closer to the bars, fixing the cook with a piercing gaze. "The sunlight," I asked. "Does it affect you?"

He hesitated, his brow furrowing. "I do not know. I did not leave the kitchen after... after I turned, it was dark. And then the hunger came. It was too much."

I straightened, my decision made. "Put them outside at first light," I ordered, my voice steady and firm.

Alaric and Hakon both looked at me, their brows raised in surprise. "You want to test if sunlight affects them?" Alaric asked, his tone laced with scepticism.

"Yes," I replied. "If it does, we need to know. If it doesn’t, we need to prepare for a different kind of enemy."

Hakon shook his head but didn’t argue, his arm still cradled against his chest. Alaric studied me for a moment longer before nodding. "Very well."

The break of dawn found us gathered in the courtyard, the cold biting at our skin despite the layers we wore. The air was crisp and still, the world holding its breath as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon. Alaric stood beside me, his expression unreadable, while Hakon and Cohnal secured the Wraiths to wooden stakes. The cook’s calm demeanour had faltered, replaced by a quiet unease. The other two snarled and snapped, their madness unrelenting.

"This feels wrong," Hakon muttered, his voice low. It was surprising, considering his usual coldness.

"We need answers," I replied, my eyes fixed on the prisoners. "This is the only way to get them. You tortured them and decapitated the others. If sunlight affects them, then we know another way to kill the Blood Wraiths."

The sunlight reached the first Wraith, and the effect was immediate. It let out a high-pitched screech, the sound cutting through the cold morning air like a blade. Its skin began to bubble and blister, smoke rising from its body as it writhed against its restraints. The second followed soon after, its screams mingling with the first’s in a cacophony of agony.

When the sunlight reached the cook, he let out a low groan, his body shuddering as his skin began to burn. He turned his eyes to me, desperation flickering in their depths. "It... it does affect us," he choked out, his voice barely audible over the others’ screams.

The sight was horrifying, but I forced myself to watch, to commit every detail to memory. This was necessary. My wolf stood firm inside me, offering me support.

The flames consumed the Wraiths one by one, their bodies reduced to ash as the sunlight grew stronger. When it was over, the courtyard was silent save for the faint rustle of the wind.

"Well," Alaric said, breaking the silence. "That answers that."

I nodded, though my mind was already racing with questions. The cook had given us a glimpse into the nature of these creatures, but it wasn’t enough. There was still so much we didn’t know. And until we did, the palace would remain under threat.

"We’ll need to reinforce the palace defences," I said, turning to Alaric.

He nodded, his expression grim. "Agreed."

We left the courtyard, the ashes of the Blood Wraiths swirling in the morning breeze.