Lyla
"A perfect medium? You are trying to tell me that you know when and how I was born?"
He nodded. "I followed your mother from the small shack where she gave birth to you, outside the Moon Temple, of course. Your birth woke me up, and then I followed your little journey up until she came to Blue Ridge pack, and your step-mother Luna Vanessa had to come to terms that her husband is a cheat."
"My mother was also deceived."
"I know," he nodded, "but I'm not talking about her either. Do you know what makes you extra special?"
I tried not to show curiosity. "What?"
"Your mother is a high priestess. Do you know what power she possesses? And then she passed a lot of it to you, Lyla. You don't just sing and heal with your voice. You're capable of so much more, but it's good you're not in touch with the other side of your powers. It benefits me."
"Was that why you were wary of Nymeris?"
He didn't answer. He evaded the question. "Now, I know that still forcing you to take the blood oath is a big scam. Thankfully, Nathan is here."
"You didn't tell me how you started influencing, Nathan?" I interrupted him. I wanted to buy more time.
"He made himself a willing host".
"How?"
"When his mother died, he opened up himself, and I saw the perfect opportunity. And he's such a good host," he chuckled.
I could see it now—the strange, malevolent aura hovering around Nathan's form. Yet it wasn't quite right to call it Nathan anymore.
"Xander," I whispered, the name leaving my lips as more accusation than question.
A smile spread across Nathan's face—no, Xander's face now. Nathan's features twisted into an expression that looked foreign on him, like a mask that didn't quite fit.
"Clever girl," he said, his voice a bizarre blend of Nathan's familiar tone and something older, more sinister. "I knew you'd figure it out eventually."
"Get out of him," I demanded, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "Whatever you're planning—"
"Oh, I'm not quite what you think," he interrupted, looking almost amused. "I only use Nathan as my medium. But during that cleansing ceremony, when Nathan came to wake you in the world of your mind? That's when I fully manifested in him."
My mind raced back to that strange, dreamlike state where Nathan had appeared as my savior. It had all been a trick.
"Not dominating him, mind you," he continued, casually examining Nathan's hands as if they were new tools he was learning to use. "Nathan was already struggling with so much animosity, this feeling that he was just prey in a world of predators." He chuckled. "All these things Nathan is doing? I do not influence them. Nathan's demons have always been his own. I merely gave them a nudge in the right direction."
"You're lying."
Nathan chuckled darkly, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. "You want to believe that, Lyla, because it's easier to think that someone else is pulling Nathan's strings. But I'm telling you now—the things Nathan's done, the blood he's spilled, the war he's waging—it's all him. His anger, his jealousy, his hunger for power. I only stood back and watched him spiral."
But then something changed. Nathan's eyes glowed with an eerie blue light, and suddenly, the air around us seemed charged with electricity. He came towards me with the speed of light, catching my next punch effortlessly and using the speed I'd use to rush at him to throw me across the room.
I slammed into the idea board, sending papers flying. Instinctively, I began to hum, trying to channel my moon singing power to protect myself, but the melody fell flat.
"Singing and humming won't work in here," he said with a smirk. "This room is insulated against your Moon singing ability."
I scrambled to my feet, trying a different approach. I focused my power internally, channeling it to enhance my strength rather than projecting it outward. It worked—I felt a surge of energy, allowing me to meet his next attack head-on.
We crashed together in the center of the room. I managed to land a blow that sent him flying into a bookshelf, which collapsed under the impact, showering him with ancient scrolls.
"Not bad," he grunted, rising from the debris. "But you get weaker every time you use your Moonsinger powers, even internally. Can't you feel it?"
He was right. Each surge of power I channeled left me feeling more drained. I could feel my strength waning.
I decided I would rely purely on the combat skills I'd learned. Block, strike, evade. I used the room to my advantage, keeping furniture between us, using the walls to push myself forward.
For a brief, glorious moment, I was winning. I caught Xander with a series of rapid blows that had him reeling, unable to counter my speed. His head snapped back from a particularly solid hit, and I thought—just for a second—that I might actually defeat him.
That hope died quickly. Nathan recovered, and now there was anger in his eyes. He moved to me with speed, no longer playing with me.
His fist connected with my stomach, driving the air from my lungs. Before I could recover, he landed a kick to my side that sent me sprawling.
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