Elizebeth POV:
I woke to the creak of the door.
Floyd loomed over me, a shadow made of muscle and malice.
"The pack has been suffering bad luck," he said. "The Oracle says the Ancestral Totem is displeased. It has cracked."
My stomach dropped. I had carved that totem. Floyd and I, back at the Academy. I had poured my White Wolf magic into it.
"Fix it," Floyd said.
"I can't," I held up my shaking hands. "I have no tools."
"Find a way."
He threw a photo on the bed.
Sunny. My twelve-year-old golden retriever. The only living thing that didn't look at me with contempt.
"Sunny is in the kennels," Floyd said. "The warriors are bored. They've been asking for a live target."
"No!" I scrambled up. "He's harmless!"
"Then fix the totem." He leaned in. "And I know where your mother is hiding in the East Sector slums. Shame if Rogues found her."
Tears streamed down my face. Monster.
"I'll do it."
He kicked a heavy sack of broken stone toward me. "Dawn. Or the dog dies."
He locked me in.
I dumped the sack. The obsidian and moonstone were shattered. No glue. No resin.
I picked up two shards. They were razor-sharp. As I pressed them together, the stone sliced my thumb.
A drop of blood hit the rock. Hiss. A faint red light pulsed.
White Wolf blood. A binding agent stronger than epoxy.
I realized what I had to do.
I picked up the next piece. I deliberately sliced my finger against the edge, smearing the blood on the joint. It fused instantly.
Piece by piece. Cut by cut.
My hands were soon a web of lacerations. The pain was blinding, mixing with the dizziness from the blood draw. But I kept going. For Sunny. For Mom.
By the time the moon set, the totem stood whole. But it wasn't black anymore. Veins of crimson ran through it, pulsing like a heartbeat.
I slumped against the wall, cradling my mangled hands.
I had saved them. But looking at the blood-streaked statue, I felt a chill. I had poured my blood into a symbol of our union. I hadn't just fixed it. I had cursed us both.
