The elders' hall of the Red Moon pack was carved from the mountain itself, its stone walls dripping with condensation, its ceiling lost in shadow, and a fire pit in the center that had been burning for so long no one remembered who had first lit it.
The heat was oppressive, thick with the smell of wet fur and old blood and something older, something that had soaked into the rock over centuries of rituals and secrets.
Timothy sat on a wooden bench before the semicircle of elders, his back straight, his hands resting on his knees. He had been here before.
Not often. Never willingly. But he needed answers.
But the Red Moon pack knew the Hollow Table better than anyone, and right now, that knowledge was the only thing that mattered.
There were five elders. Three men, two women.
The oldest among them, a woman named Greer, whose face was a map of wrinkles and whose eyes had gone pale with age, sat in the center, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on Timothy with an intensity that made his skin prickle.
"You come to us on the eve of the solstice, young Alpha," Greer said.
Her voice was soft and weathered, like stones worn smooth by a river. "Are you here to ask about the Hollow Table?"
Timothy inclined his head. "I do."
"The table is not a thing to be asked about lightly."
"I am aware."
Greer studied him for a long moment. The other elders shifted and whispered among themselves, but Greer held up one gnarled hand, and they fell silent.
"Brave. Tell us what you need," she said.
Timothy took a breath. The fire crackled. The wind howled against the stone walls.
"One of ours had a vision," Timothy said.
"He saw the Hollow Table. He saw a young man—another wolf—strapped to it. Silver chains. Hands pressing against his chest. Not to heal." He paused. "To peel."
The elders went very still.
Greer's pale eyes narrowed. "Who had this vision? Is it a wolf?"
Timothy hesitated. "His name is Sebastian."
Greer's expression did not change, but something in her voice sharpened. "Hm. From which kind? Is he a wolf? How old?"
"No," Timothy said. "He is not."
"What is he, then? This Sebastian who sees visions of the Hollow Table?"
Timothy met her gaze. "He is a vampire. A vampire who mated with one of the wolves from La Ber."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the fire seemed to hold its breath.
Greer leaned forward. "A vampire. Mated to a wolf."
"Yes."
"And this wolf—the one who is mated to a vampire—he is the one who is missing? The one you believe is strapped to the Hollow Table?"
"Yes, his name is Lucas Red," Timothy said.
"He has been missing for days. We have been looking for him. We want to bring him home."
Greer sat back. Her expression was unreadable, but something in her posture shifted. Then, almost too soft to hear, she murmured:
"Ah. So it begins again. What is it with you, La Ber wolves, imprinting on vampires? Haven't you learned from what happened to Rohan?"
Timothy frowned. "Elder?"
Greer waved a hand. "Nothing. Continue."
But her eyes had changed.
There was something in them now, the look of someone who had seen this before. Who knew exactly what came next.
"The Hollow Table shows what it wants to show," Greer said.
"It does not show the future. It does not show the past. It shows the wounds already inside you, dressed in whatever skin will hurt the most. Your vampire saw the Table because the Table is already inside him, already feeding on him."
Before Timothy could respond, the door to the hall opened.
Zachary stood in the doorway, snow dusting his shoulders, his cheeks flushed with cold. He was breathing hard, his eyes wide with urgency.
"Elders," Zachary said, bowing his head.
"Forgive the interruption. I have news."
Greer's voice was sharp. "This is not the time, Zachary."
"It's about the wolf," Zachary said, stepping inside. "The one Elijah told me about. The one Aida brought to Tanesab."
Timothy went very still.
Zachary's gaze landed on him. His brow furrowed. "Timothy? What are you doing here?"
Timothy stood, his heart pounding. "I am looking for a wolf. One of mine. Missing from La Ber."
Timothy's breath caught. He pulled the folded drawing from his pocket and held it up. "This wolf. Do you know him?"
Zachary stepped closer, looked at the drawing, and nodded. "Wait, hold on. What's his name?"
Timothy's hands trembled. "Lucas Red. He had been missing for days. His imprint had a vision about the Hollow Table; hence, we are here to look for answers."
"Lucas," Zachary said. "Light brown fur. Young. Scared," he paused. "Oh. Oh."
Timothy watched his expression change from confusion to recognition. "What? Do you know where he could be?"
"Tanesab," he repeated. "He's in Tanesab."
The words landed like stones in deep water. Timothy felt them sink into his chest.
"If I am not mistaken, my brother mentioned that he was staying with Rohan because they carry the same burden. The kid arrived there with Aida a few days ago. All sad and lonely and looking like a kicked puppy.
Timothy frowned. "Rohan? As in Rohan Medger?"
Zachary turned to him. "You know Rohan?"
Timothy's eyes flickered. "Yeah, I knew him. He was Lucas' uncle who had been gone missing for years after his mate got ambushed by other wolves during their travels, I think."
"Huh, so, what are you going to do now?"
She looked at Timothy. "Go. Find your wolf. Bring him home."
Timothy did not wait to be told twice. He walked out of the hall, into the snow, with Zachary at his side.
And somewhere in Tanesab, in a cabin at the edge of the village, Lucas was writhing in pain as he questioned the moon if this was the reason why he was born.