~Laia~
Somehow being with the Masks felt better than in this hollow place.
My entire being is still focused on that closed door behind me. I stand there with unseeing eyes, my brain trying to imagine what he looks like as he walks away. Will he take off his mask soon or does he wear it in his own pack a lot?
High Priestess Selara, just as he called her, clears her throat bringing my attention back
"Welcome to the Faceless Pack. Take a seat."
Her voice is high-pitched, ringing through the chamber like the walls are made to resound her every word.
Two girls appear, both with long white braids, moving like shadows as they gesture for us to sit. My butt hits the cold stone floor, my eyes glued to whatever strange ritual Selara is stirring up.
Her hands move over a bowl, steady and precise, as she divides a dark concoction into twelve silver cups. My stomach knots when I count them, twelve. Always twelve.
"Drink," Selara says, her gaze piercing. "This is no ordinary water. It binds you. Swears your loyalty to this Pack. You already know this, the Twelve are ours. And from this moment, you will be part of the Faceless Pack. To serve. To protect. To obey. Now... drink, and seal your oath."
One by one, we rise and drink from the cups, the bitter concoction burning down our throats. We repeat the oaths after her, our voices a chorus.
When it's done, Selara doesn't dismiss us. I could tell she's got more to say. Great. Maybe she'll just skip to the point or, I don't know, drop a hint about what the Lysander-delulu relic could be. Maybe, just maybe she'll have my attention then.
She continues, "As you have sworn your oath, it is until death. Words spoken in this temple abide with you. They are not to be whispered. Not to be gossiped about. You are being watched..."
A shiver runs down my spine. I must say, whoever this lady is, she's scarier than the witch of any bedtime story I've ever heard.
"The Twelve. The sacred Twelve..." her voice is a laughter. I am surprised she doesn't cackle.
"Every decade... the morning moon bleeds. Every decade... the Twelve are chosen. And every decade... the Moon Relic cries."
Wait. Hold up. Did I just hear that right? My chest tightens, curiosity instantly activated. Forget fear, my interest is officially piqued.
Her moves are ethereal as she slowly walks up to us. One by one, she bows, her ancient eyes locking with each of us in turn. First... Second... Third... My heart kicks faster with every pause. I'm the tenth in the row.
"You are all needed," she says. "You are all important. In time, you will each be assigned tasks. My advice? Don't get greedy. Don't get pompous. Those who rise too high... often fall the hardest."
She's finally on me, her ancient eyes meeting mine. Is it just me or did she just flinch? Is there anything scary about my face? About my eyes?
Her hands meet mine, taking my hands in hers, the same way she has done with the others... Her touch is surprisingly warm. My breath stutters, chest tight, as though the air has been stolen right out of me.
Then, at last, she moves on to the next. Relief washes over me like a wave.
Oh, thank the Goddess.
Finally, she's done. Rising once more, Selara's robes whisper across the floor.
"Like I said, you will each be assigned to different tasks. Get settled, and feel welcome."
The two white-haired girls return, this time with other pack members trailing behind them. One by one, they're paired with us.
A girl approaches me, brunette hair, high cheekbones, about my height. She beams, cheeks stretching wide.
"Hi, I'm Zia."
"Laia," I answer, trying to return the smile.
Her eyes light up. "Woah... our names kinda sound alike."
I let out a soft laugh at her attempt of creating a joke, I'll need all the friends I can make here..
"You're assigned to scrub the ancient floors," she says cheerfully. "I'll show you around. Trust me, you'll love it here."
I eye her suspiciously. She's either going to ask me to scrub the toilets for her next, or play some "funny" joke on me soon, while her friends cackle from the shadows. At least my old pack assholes never bothered Liam, I made sure of that.
"Thank you" feels like the safest response... I don't know. That's just what my brain comes up with.
We walk through the pack grounds, Zia pointing at this and that, her mouth running non-stop. She talks and talks and talks... and honestly? I like it. She doesn't even care if I reply, and that saves me from awkward small talk.
One minute, I'm walking. Next, my steps freeze.
My eyes lock on that familiar masked guy, I could pick him out from a thousand faces. Funny how I've memorized everything about him. His eyes are on me too, a few paces away. His mask is off.
"Oh, come on, Laia. What are you staring at?" Zia calls.
I tear my gaze away and see her up ahead. Looking at my feet, I hurry to catch up with her.
How long is this staring competition going to last before I break?
Uncomfortable, unfamiliar heat licks up my spine with every step, and sweaty tendrils of hair stick to my neck. It's freaking middle of the winter. I pull on my collar, nudging some cold air under my sweater, and sigh in relief. Heat, heat everywhere... Must be that weird drink the so-called priestess gave us. I should have dumped it.
Zia gives me a long look, very unlike her chattery self. I cough, self-conscious under her scrutiny. "Lead the way."
In the distance I hear a male voice, a voice that shouldn't become so familiar to me, issuing orders on unpacking the cargo ship we all arrived on.
