Chapter 125

Anton glances down at me for a moment before turning his eyes back to the carvings on the wall, a frown taking his lips. “What are you talking about, June?”

“Tony,” I whisper, a little bit of a frustrated growl in my word as I wrap my hands around his arm, pressing myself close to his side. “Is any of this…familiar to you?”

“It’s just symbols, Juniper,” Anton says, gesturing towards it. “You’re getting something out of this?”

I tug him closer to the wall, lifting my hand to trace alongside the story. “It’s the story of this boy,” I say, my words fast and a little breathless. “The Crescent Moon one –“

“Yeah, I got that far,” Anton murmurs, I think a little frustrated.

“And here he is,” I say, “being…conceived, I think.”

My fingers move down to the next image, which is a woman with a Lily in one hand standing with a man. She reaches out to him, a glowing ball in her hand, and he reaches out to her as well, handing her what looks like a fruit – an apple perhaps, or a pear.

“June,” Anton murmurs, looking down at me, his frown deepening. “I mean, if you think an image of a man and a woman trading fruit is sexual, then…I think we’re going to need to have a talk –“

“It’s a metaphor, you idiot,” I growl, smacking him on the chest.

“Well, why does he have a symbol of Atalaxia on his chest?” Anton asks with a sigh, pointing to the engraving. My eyes widen when I see that he’s right. “How old are these carvings? This seems…I don’t know, June, is all of this a trick? If this temple as old as I think it is, and Atalaxia is no more than five hundred years old, then how –“

But I just smack his chest again. “Anton, that doesn’t even matter,” I snap, pointing to the next scene on the wall. “Look!”

Anton shifts his eyes to the next image, which is of the woman taking the ball of light – the fruit now safely ensconced inside of it – and appearing on the shore of a beautiful beach where a castle raises high above. She hands the ball of light to a woman there, who cries with joy.

“So?” Anton says, sighing with frustration – though I don’t know if it’s with me, or with himself for not getting it, or with the drawings for being so obscure. “So she’s good at trade – what’s so important about this –“

“The details, Tony!” I insist, shifting my finger to the sea beyond the beach, where seals bob in the water, playing and peering at the Goddess who has come to bless their shores.

“Oh,” Anton whispers, bending down a little to look closer. He glances over his shoulder, looking for Laila, before turning his eyes back. “Yeah, I…I guess that’s…god, Juniper, what are the chances of that?”

“It’s the story,” I say, my words breathy and fascinated as I move to the next image, which is a woman on the same beach, a little baby in her arms. “The Selkie Prince,” I say, starting to get excited now.

I bend now, wanting to see the rest of the story, which is low on the wall. Anton crouches too, more interested now, looking as closely as I am.

My heart drops when I see that in the next image the Goddess returns and takes the child from the woman. The woman cries again, her face full of grief, even as she hands the child back.

“Oh, that’s so sad,” I murmur, pressing a hand to my chest.

But Anton doesn’t agree with me.

I turn, surprised at his lack of response, to see him looking ashen.

My eyes go wide. “What is it?”

He just stares at the wall.

I snap my head back to it, my eyes moving quickly over the rest of the story –

The Goddess in the next image, with the child in her arms, handing her over to a Priestess – one whose clothing I recognize from our own word, dressed in garments that mark her as dedicated to the Moon Goddess, my grandmother.

My eyes flash over the next images, not getting it. It’s pretty simple – the boy grows up, and he learns to fish, and he swims in a lake, and he gets tall, and then in the final panel he’s dressed as a soldier – quite tall and lean.

My wolf goes still.

“It’s…her,” Anton whispers.

I turn my eyes back to him, worried now. “Who?”

He leans forward, lifting a hand and pressing his fingertip to the image of the boy fishing – standing on the banks of a river, a stubborn frown on his face, tugging at his rod. But Anton points not to the boy; instead, to the Priestess behind him.

“Her,” he whispers, his finger tracing over the veil that marks her as a nun – the highest level of dedication.

“Please,” I whisper, my eyes locked on the image. “Help me understand.”

“It’s…her,” Anton whispers before he sinks to his knees, moving his face closer to stare at the image. “She’s…mine. My nun – my teacher. She raised me. Taught me how to keep my temper. We’d go…fucking fishing, just like this, just the two of us, so she could teach me patience. And we’d talk the whole time. I didn’t know it as a kid, I thought she was just bothering me, but it was her own special brand of therapy. She taught me…so much.”

Tears fill his eyes and I suck in a breath, turning my eyes back to the image, certainty sinking into my soul as I look again at the last image of the young man.

Tall, lanky. Assertive. His face is imprecise – the carving is so small – but the way his hair flops into his face, and the confident way he stands…

“Holy shit, Tony…” I whisper, reaching out, finding his hand, slipping my palm against his. His hand tightens immediately, holding mine fast. “It’s…”

“Me,” he whispers.

“You’re the crescent moon,” I murmur, squeezing his hand back.

“I…shit, June, I think I really am the Selkie Prince,” he says, turning wide and baffled eyes to mine.

I nod slowly, holding his gaze, both of us un-blinking. “And…um. I mean. I think that the Goddess of Life is your mom.”

Slowly he turns his head back to the wall, his eyes moving up to the first image where she holds out the glowing orb to the man with the Atalaxian crest. “Shiiiit,” he whispers, falling back on his ass.

I squeak a little and climb onto his lap, taking his face between my hands and turning it so his eyes find mine. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

“I – I’m – June, does this mean I’m a demigod?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, shaking my head.

“Do you think it’s real?” he asks, his voice shaking. “Is this – is this some kind of cosmic prank?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, my eyes flashing back to the other panels on the wall. One for the boy with the scythe, and another for the full-moon boy, and then – is that another panel? Beyond? I can’t quite see.

“Oh, it’s no prank,” says a voice, low and rich and ringing with power.

Both Anton and I go very still at the sound of it. We both intuit, immediately, that it is…not a mortal voice.

“I see that you’ve discovered our little secret,” the voice continues.

Slowly, we both turn our heads to see the woman standing a few feet away, where she definitely was not standing a moment ago. She sighs and crosses her arms, her movements so elegant and sure that they…they almost can’t be real.

“Sooner than I had planned or wanted, I admit,” she says, smiling a little, looking down into Anton’s face. “Your little Moon Pup is more dogged than I gave her credit for.”

We both just…continue to stare.

At the Goddess of Life. Standing there, before us. She glows with a steady golden light, her rich brown hair falling soft over her shoulders, every single inch of her just…perfect. Perfect and warm and steady and true.

My lips part in awe.

“Well?” she says, raising an eyebrow and holding her hands out towards her son. “I’ve been waiting for a long time to meet you, Anton. Come and say hello to your mother.”

Anton shifts and I squeak, scooting gracelessly from his lap so that he can stand. To my shock, he turns his eyes away from his goddess mother for a moment to smile at me, to laugh a little and hold out his hand as he stands up, clearly intending for me to come with him. I hesitate for a second, because, I mean – this is a very intimate moment – she can greet her son for a second alone before he brings his girlfriend along –

“June,” Anton says, laughing, still holding out his hand. “Please.”

I reach for him, knowing that my boy so rarely asks anything of me. But if he wants me at his side, then there’s nowhere else I’d be.

I slip my hand again against his and let him pull me to my feet.

Together we turn towards the Goddess and step forward.

“My Lady,” Anton murmurs, dipping his head before her. “It is…an honor.” He squeezes my hand, trembling a little. But I smile, loving him a great deal, because even if I can feel his anxiety and his trepidation…not an ounce of him shows it.

The Goddess of Life steps forward, her hands extended, ready to greet her son.