CHAPTER 106: INTO THE SANCTUARY.

The forest loomed ahead of Angela Rivers like a dark wall. The hand-drawn map from Carla’s notebook trembled in her hands, the red X marking "Sanctuary" burned into her mind. She’d barely slept, the glint of those silver eyes outside her window haunting her through the night.

Whoever or whatever was watching her knew she was getting closer to the truth.

But the thought of Bella, trapped in a world Angela was only beginning to comprehend, drove her forward. She wouldn’t fail her niece the way she’d failed her sister.

The air was cold, Angela parked her car at the edge of the forest. The trailhead was unmarked, just a narrow gap between towering trees, barely visible in the dawn mist. She checked her phone, no signal, as expected. The new number Marcus had given her was memorized, but she couldn’t call him now. She was alone, armed only with Carla’s journal, the map, and a flashlight. Her heart pounded tremendously, but she zipped her coat, slung her bag over her shoulder, and stepped into the forest.

The forest was unnaturally quiet. No birds sang, no wind rustled the leaves. Each step crunched loudly on the dry leaves amplifying her sense of exposure. She kept the map in one hand, her eyes darting between it and the path ahead. The trail twisted deeper, the trees growing thicker, their branches knitting together overhead until the sky was a distant memory. Angela’s paranoia, already a living thing, coiled tighter.

The map led her to a fork in the path, where a gigantic oak stood, its trunk carved with a faint crescent moon, identical to the one on Carla’s wooden box. Her breath caught. This was no coincidence. She traced the carving with her fingers, and checked the map again. The red X was close, just beyond a stream marked on the paper. She pressed forward, her boots sinking into the soft earth, her pulse a steady drum in her ears.

The stream appeared soon after, its water clear and unnervingly still, reflecting the twisted branches above. Angela crossed it carefully, stepping on slick stones, her flashlight beam cutting through the mist. On the other side, the path narrowed, the trees closing in until she felt like she was walking through a tunnel of bark and shadow. The air grew heavier, carrying a faint, metallic tang she couldn’t place. Her paranoia surged. She clutched Carla’s journal to her chest, its worn cover a reminder of why she was here.

The map led her to a clearing, where the trees parted to reveal a circle of stones, each one etched with symbols she didn’t recognize, spirals, claws, crescent moons. In the center stood a low, flat rock, like an altar, its surface stained dark with blood.

Angela gasped.

This was the Sanctuary. It had to be. But the place felt alive like the forest was breathing.

She stepped into the clearing, her flashlight beam trembling as it swept over the stones. The symbols seemed to shimmer, catching the light in different colours. She knelt by the central rock, her fingers brushing its surface. It was cold, slick, the blood felt fresh. Her stomach churned. Was this where Carla had come? Was this where her sister had fought, or died in the spirit realm Marcus had described? The thought made her chest tighten, grief and fear twisting together until she could barely breathe.

She opened Carla’s journal, flipping to the last entry she’d read: "The powder is poison, Carla. It’s killing you. Get out before it’s too late. Maren is coming for you." Below it was a new line she hadn’t noticed before, scrawled in a shakier hand: "The Sanctuary holds the truth, but it’s guarded. Trust no one." Angela’s heart pounded. Guarded by what? Or who? She scanned the clearing, her flashlight beam darting between the trees. The shadows seemed to shift, curling like smoke, but when she focused, they were still.

She set the journal down and pulled out the letters from the wooden box, rereading the one about the bloodline. "Carla, you can’t hide forever. The bloodline will call to her, and when it does, Maren will know." Bella was the key, Angela was sure of it. Her niece was a Moonblood, like Carla, and Maren wanted her dead to end the lineage.

But why? What power did the Moonbloods hold that made them such a threat? Angela’s mind raced, piecing together Marcus’s words, werewolf clans, spirit realms, ancient laws. It was insane, but the pieces fit too well to dismiss. Carla’s undiagnosed illness, her screams for Bella, Jonathan’s leather pouch, it all pointed to a truth Angela couldn’t ignore.

A twig snapped behind her,Angela froze, her flashlight beam swinging toward the sound. The trees were still, but the air felt heavier, pressing against her like a physical force. "Who’s there?" she called, her voice trembling but firm, echoing her challenge in Carla’s office the night before. No answer came, but the feel of another presence in the air grew stronger.

Her breath hitched. "Show yourself!" she demanded, her voice cracking. She backed toward the central rock, her instincts screaming to run, but her grief-fueled determination held her in place. She hadn’t come this far to flee.

A figure stepped into the clearing, tall and lean, dressed in dark clothing. Its face obscured by a hood, but their movements were fluid, predatory. Angela’s heart slammed against her ribs. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You shouldn’t be here," the figure said, their voice low, female, and laced with menace. "This place isn’t for humans."

Angela’s blood ran cold. "Maren?" she asked, the name slipping out before she could stop it.

The figure stiffened, then laughed, a sharp, chilling sound. "You’ve been talking to Marcus, haven’t you? He’s always been a thorn in my side." She stepped closer, the hood falling back to reveal a scary looking woman with cold, silver eyes. It was the woman from the photograph, the one standing beside Jonathan. Maren.

Angela’s hand tightened on the flashlight, her mind racing. "What do you want with Bella?"

Maren’s smile was a blade. "You’re asking questions you can’t handle the answers to. Just like your sister."

"Leave her alone," Angela said, her voice shaking but defiant. "She’s just a child."

"She’s a Moonblood," Maren said, her eyes glinting brighter, almost glowing. "She has become a threat."

Angela’s mind spun, Marcus’s words echoing: Maren is hunting Moonbloods, eliminating anyone who could challenge her power. "You killed Carla," she said, the accusation spilling out. "In the spirit realm. You tore her apart."

Maren’s smile didn’t waver. "She was warned. She chose to fight. And she lost."

Angela’s grief surged, hot and raw. "You’re a monster."

"I’m a survivor," Maren said, stepping closer. "The Moonbloods would have destroyed us all. Their power is chaos, uncontrolled. I bring order. Stability. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it."

Angela backed up, her heel hitting the central rock. "Including killing a teenage girl?"

Maren’s eyes narrowed. "Bella’s time is coming. I’ll be there to end her, just as I ended Carla when the time is right."

The air pulsed harder, the growl in Angela’s bones growing louder. She realized it wasn’t just Maren, the Sanctuary wasn’t just a place; it was a gateway, a bridge to the spirit realm Marcus had described. Angela’s paranoia peaked, her senses screaming that she was out of her depth, a human in a world of claws and teeth.

"You can’t stop me," Maren said, her voice almost a purr. "But you can join your sister if you insist on trying."

Angela’s flashlight beam wavered as she aimed it at Maren’s face, hoping to blind her. But Maren didn’t flinch, her eyes reflecting the light like mirrors. She moved closer, her steps silent, her presence suffocating. Angela’s hand fumbled in her bag, closing around the only weapon she’d brought, a pocketknife, useless against a werewolf but better than nothing.

Before she could pull it out, the air shimmered, and Maren’s form blurred. For a moment, Angela saw a shadow of fur and claws, before Maren snapped back into human shape. The sight was so fleeting Angela might have doubted it, but the growl in her bones was real, undeniable. Maren wasn’t just a woman. She was something deadly.

Angela’s heart raced as she realized she was trapped. The clearing was a cage she couldn’t escape. Maren was closing in, her silver eyes locked on Angela’s, her smile promising pain. Angela’s fingers tightened on the knife, her grief and fear forging a desperate resolve. She wouldn’t let Maren win. Not yet.

But then the ground trembled, a new sound cut through the growl, distant but growing closer, echoing through the trees. Maren froze, her head snapping toward the sound. Angela’s breath caught as another figure burst into the clearing, this one familiar, weathered, with gray hair and a grim expression.

"Marcus!" Angela gasped, hope flaring.

But Marcus wasn’t alone. Behind him, other shapes danced around. The air crackled with power, the Sanctuary pulsing wildly now. Maren snarled, her body tensing, ready to strike.

"Angela, run!" Marcus shouted, but before she could move, Maren lunged monstrously.