Page 61 of Antiletum (The Nocturne #1)

By the time the landscape begins to change beneath me—plains, knolls, forests, and minor mountains transitioning to behemoths capped with snow—I’m spent. Lost to the overwhelming scent of pine. I can’t remember the last time I flew this long, this hard, staying as my owl for so long. Days on end .

I generally avoid going for extended periods without a shift. Unless I’m stuck for various reasons. Perilous injuries. Or (years ago) malnutrition and desperation to survive an Omnitas winter.

The tiny house I seek, hidden in the mountains within the Vulpes borders, is a sight of pure salvation.

I shift when it’s in view, nearly tumbling to the ground. A shiver wracks my spine, temperatures much cooler in the high altitude compared to Omnitas. White mist shrouds my lips on an exhale. Instead of donning my clothes, I stroll to the house. Not bothering to knock, I waltz right in.

Expectations not at all met, there’s no one inside.

Xavien, a high ranking member of Suredeis from Vulpes is, indeed, not sitting at the table, whittling away at some hunk of wood. Where he has been since shortly before my father died, waiting for me and my wife.

With a frown, I glance around the rustic space.

“Wonderful,” I breathe. I’m too tired for this.

Ears strained, I listen for sounds that don’t belong. Nothing presents.

Still, Xavien’s absence is concerning. He’s been holed away since his very meticulously faked death.

Biding his time like the rest of us. After the full magnitude of precariousness regarding the Heartstones was brought to light, a sizable group of offerings was smuggled out here to Xavien.

Ready to be fed to the Vulpes Heartstone when it joins the Noctua on this side of life once again.

Until we can raise the final in Panthera , breaking the bind of vinculum and Ellden clocks.

Not to mention, he would have been able to hand guide me directly to the den the Vulpes Heartstone is tucked away in where the first sly, clever fox was born .

Abandoning the desolate house, I make my way to the caves behind it. Checking to see if the first round of sacrifices have also disappeared. Winding through the narrow strips of emptiness cut through rock, a stench starts to hit me: the rot of dead bodies.

It isn’t quite so cold in the insulated caves to stifle the reek of decay. Doesn’t take long before I stumble upon a heap of corpses. From the look of things, they may have succumbed to cannibalism when their jailer quit coming to feed them.

My mouth waters at the cloying scent of death. The surge of necromancy scratching at my skin. Deos , I want my wife. Want her hand in mine, bringing our magic together.

In my rush to leave, I didn’t tuck away a few precautionary antiletum tablets like I usually carry around for moments such as this.

“Fucking fuck!”

They were right there, hidden away in my safe at Greystone. Easily accessible.

Turning on my heel, enraged, I leave the cave.

So much for rest. Urgency is guiding me, just knowing that everything is amiss.

It takes a lot of effort at the mouth of the cave to shift again and fly into the wind.

But time is not on my side. Weaving through trees, I watch for markers I was informed of by my brother and Rainah, a map of the landscape leading me to the den.

I have to circle back a few times, given how weakened and out of sorts I am.

But as the sun begins to dip behind the jutting shards of mountain stabbing into the sky, I find it.

A burbling brook sighs nearby, fed by the water source I told Delaney about when we were young.

Amidst a bunch of autumn flowers, springing up as the season creeps closer, I see it: a small hole, haloed in brambles, disappearing into the ground.

Undisturbed .

A sliver of relief warms my bones.

I shift again, swatting the flora away to get a closer look. The hole is just large enough for me to climb through. Delaney won’t have an issue at all. Darkness invites me into its chasm, brambles tearing at my naked skin as I crawl into the hole, disappearing in the ground.

Good thing I’m born to see in the dark.

My eyes take no time to adjust, making out the shapes around me.

The den is a small cavern, barely tall enough for me to stand.

Head stooped, I take a slow step deeper.

Even though the opening was untouched, the air down here doesn’t feel right.

Strange magic coats the den, layered against the damp scent of loam.

Stale. Like it’s been floating around in this thin air for some time.

If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say around the same amount of time Xavien’s home has been empty.

All the relief I experienced only seconds ago evaporates as I go further into the den, my bare feet scraping against uneven ground.

An ominous Ellden clock hangs from the wall. One of the three original. Smaller than the one tied to the Noctua Heartstone, but vicious and hateful all the same.

Dark spots stain the outer edge of a bowl in the den floor.

Much like what had appeared on the Noctua Heartstone’s perimeter.

I touch one, hot and gnarled like burned flesh, ancient, astute magic clinging to my fingers.

It’s like a surgeon had cut out a heart and cauterized arteries, keeping host and organ both from completely expiring.

It occurs to me that the stains on the stone in the Strigi Forest are attributed to whatever happened here more than the upset of balance. Dread settles in my stomach as I rush back to the mouth of the den. Giving myself enough of a vantage point to more intently take in the scene .

A large crater sits in the center of the den, completely void of the Vulpes Heartstone that once resided here.