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ROCK was led by Placido through the ancient ruins.
Mazelike passages had been carved out of the limestone and branched out in different directions along the way, but Placido carried on his path without getting lost. Had he traveled this route so many times that he knew it like the back of his hand? Or did his werewolf senses guide him? Either way, being forced to follow him into this maze was enough to put Rock on high alert.
Eventually, a wooden double door appeared in front of them.
Placido pushed it open with both hands, and the heavy door groaned with the effort.
A sprawling open space with high ceilings appeared. It was the only section of the ruins left like a natural cave, with several dozen small holes in the limestone ceiling. Narrow shafts of light spilled in through those holes, pouring down on the surroundings like a shimmering veil of silk. Fragrant wood incense was burning here too, and billows of smoke rose toward the ceiling, as if riding on the light.
But Rock’s full attention was directed to something altogether different from that beautiful display.
Her eyes fixed on a large, old stone statue enshrined in the back of the cavernous room.
Many years—centuries, perhaps—must have passed since it was made. The chiseled shape and features carved into the limestone had rounded and become ambiguous over time.
But Rock recognized it. The statue looked just like the one she’d bought at Lady Trilian’s shop. Like the one Guido Linus had gotten his hands on and cursed himself with.
The entire back wall had been carved out in the shape of that damned werewolf statue.
“This is…”
Placido wordlessly passed by Rock as she stared in terror at the wall. Her eyes tracked him as he walked toward the two people waiting in front of the life-size statue.
It was Lauretta and someone Rock didn’t know. The stranger was shorter and altogether smaller than Lauretta and wore the same blue wool satin faille robe. Their face was hidden under a white-painted wooden mask, revealing only their eyes and lips.
“Oh, hello, darling. I see you brought Roxy with you.” Lauretta’s voice sounded awfully chipper for the eerie atmosphere weighing over the whole room. “I was just speaking to the bishop about her.”
She looked to the petite masked person when she said that.
“Go on, Roxy. Greet the bishop,” Placido urged her.
“A-All right.”
Urge me all they want, but who in their right mind would want to speak to such a blatantly suspicious person?
Rock was wary, but Lord and Lady Alexis were watching her. She reluctantly stepped forward.
“How do you do? I’m Roxy,” she introduced herself, and the bishop slowly nodded.
“Roxy Alexis. I have already heard all about you.”
The bishop’s voice sounded so young that it took Rock by surprise. It had such an innocent tone, and the pitch was just at the level where it was impossible to tell if it was a boy or girl speaking.
“A young girl guided to your new family by the werewolf’s power. I pray that your path in life is always warm and filled with success,” the bishop said, faltering along the way, as if they were reading off a script.
It seemed only Rock was alarmed by that oddity. Both Placido and Lauretta listened with tranquil, reverent expressions.
And the bishop even had the nerve to call her Roxy Alexis.
I don’t remember ever relying on the werewolf’s power to guide me to a new family I didn’t want.
Rock’s opinion on that matter remained uncompromised and defiant.
“Now then, Roxy, I will bestow the blessing upon you,” the tiny bishop said, pointing to the area in front of the statue. “Lay there.”
They had pointed to an altar that looked like a bed carved out of stone.
Rock thought it was an altar because werewolves had been carved into its base as well. It came up to her knees and was just long enough for a person to lie across it without issue.
Obviously, Rock had no intention of obeying.
“Why?” Rock asked, not hiding the wariness from her voice.
“Didn’t you hear me?” the bishop replied in dulcet tones. “It’s to bestow the blessing upon you.”
“What is this blessing?” Rock asked her aunt and uncle since she didn’t think she’d get anywhere with the elusive bishop.
Unfortunately, it seemed they were just as confused. Lauretta gave her husband a questioning look and Placido voiced his doubts.
“We didn’t hear anything about this either, Bishop.”
“And you wouldn’t have,” the bishop said with a guileless nod. “The moonlight delivered the oracle to this altar just last night. The oracle told me to offer the statue a drop of blood from the newcomer and to bestow the blessing upon them.”
The werewolf curse would be unleashed when the statue received blood.
Knowing that, Rock blanched.
Lord and Lady Alexis also gave each other baffled looks.
“Does that mean Roxy will gain the werewolf’s power…?”
“With all due respect, Bishop, our daughter is as delicate as a flower, as I’m sure you can see. I doubt she will be of use to the Brotherhood even if she receives the werewolf blessing.”
“Do not misunderstand the blessing,” the bishop replied with absolute composure in the face of Lauretta’s confused frown and Placido’s objection. “It is not for the Brotherhood’s benefit but for hers.”
“You mean to say it is for Roxy’s own good?”
“Indeed. According to the oracle, this girl’s path in life is fraught with thorns. There is much she must fight and resist going ahead. The power of the werewolf is a blessing granted to overcome those obstacles.”
HOGWASH!
Rock resisted the urge to shout, but she couldn’t conceal her anger.
The bishop’s eyes gleamed through their mask as they took in the sight of her biting her lip.
“There’s nothing to fear, Roxy Alexis. You are about to obtain a wonderful power! It’s the power to crush every difficulty, obstacle, and enemy in your way, so you can fulfill your deepest wishes.”
Everything about the bishop’s voice, from its tone to its lilt, sounded terribly young. The way they spoke like a child clumsily reciting a poem from memory only ignited fear in Rock.
“Now…entrust yourself to the altar.”
“Hell no!”
Rock shouted out loud this time, but her feet were swept off the ground before she could make a run for it. Placido had picked her up and placed her on top of the altar.
“Uncle?!”
Placido looked down at his terrified niece with a calming smile.
“You heard the bishop. Not many people can receive this blessing. Gladly accept it.”
“What the hell are you saying?! I don’t want this shit!”
“Hell? Shit?” the bishop quietly repeated her unladylike word choice, as if they found fault with it. But they quickly shook their head and ordered Placido and Lauretta. “The ritual will be over quick. Both of you, please restrain your daughter.”
“Stop! Lemme go!”
Rock swung her arms and thrashed like her life depended on it.
But Placido pinned down her hands, preventing her from leaving the altar.
“This is a miraculous power! It is the only blessing granted to weaklings abandoned by the gods.”
The praying bishop pulled a slender dagger out of their robe pocket.
Rock became even more terrified when the needlelike tip gleamed in a shaft of sunlight.
“It’s all right. It’s just a little prick.”
The level of kindness in Placido’s soothing voice was downright eerie.
Rock wasn’t just afraid because she had witnessed the werewolf curse before.
She had a terrible feeling she wouldn’t be able to resist it right now.
She had an earnest wish buried deep within her—or rather, desires.
I want to go home. I want to reassure Father. I want to see Ebel.
I don’t want to be here!
I don’t want anything to do with something as terrifying as a curse. I wish I had the power to destroy every last thing connected to these statues that caused Ebel, Guido, and those around them to suffer so much.
If only I had the power to make it, so no one has to suffer again—
“Please! Don’t do this! I’m begging you!”