Moonbound: The Rogue's Second Chance
Chapter 193: RESEARCH IN THE LIBRARY

Chapter 193: RESEARCH IN THE LIBRARY

The woman pushed back a strand of hair and yawned. She had lost track of time in the library. Her back had begun to protest the ordeal she was putting it through, stiff from sitting in the same position for too long. She leaned back slightly, rolling her shoulders, and gazed lazily at the page before flipping it over. The words danced on the paper, a fine hand with ink that had long dried. Every line required focus to interpret, an effort that was beginning to test her.

Everything she had known about Ironshade had always been second hand, told through whispers, gossip from other people, half-formed opinions, or the clipped tone of her brother. But she wanted more. She needed more than just the filtered truths of others.

She remembered what an elder had said at the council meeting before the Dawbreak wolves arrived. Maybe it was the quiet elder who handled Ironshade’s records and archives that had said it, if memory served her well.

He had once mentioned that Crimsonclaw and Ironshade were not strangers to each other, not truly. Their names, he’d said, had appeared side by side more than once in the older treaties buried in the archives. Something had stayed with her about that.

Serena scratched her head as she peered closer at the page. Her vision had begun to blur slightly. A dull ache throbbed just behind her eyes. Still, she pushed on, whispering the words as her finger traced a neat column of historical entries.

"The Ironshade Accord, signed in the year of the Split Moon, was one of mutual necessity, though not without mutual respect..."

She blinked. Serena gasped and pulled the book closer to herself.

The record spoke of an early agreement between Crimsonclaw and Ironshade, centuries old, predating the formal rise of the current council structure. Crimsonclaw’s climate had always been harsh, snow-laden and ruthless. The East bred a different kind of wolf: hard, disciplined, militaristic by design and necessity. Ironshade, by contrast, while similarly tough, had access to rich deposits, iron, silver, precious stones and thick forests that grew in their valleys.

The old treaties had seen Crimsonclaw send textiles, medicinal herbs, and hardened soldiers in exchange for ore and crafted weaponry. More importantly, cultural practices had been shared. Crimsonclaw’s rigid military code had influenced Ironshade’s early training rites, and in turn, Ironshade’s art of forging and spiritual rites with the land had been adopted in parts of the Eastern temples.

It surprised her how little of this had survived into common knowledge. These were not mere trading posts, they had once been partners, bonded by necessity, but also by recognition. Two wolves that had once hunted together.

"Huh," she murmured, running her finger across the paper. Her father never really spoke much about Ironshade, maybe everyone had long forgotten the treaties that were forged under the moon.

And in the margin, scrawled in a different hand, were mentions of the other two cardinal packs, Stormcrest of the South and Dawnbreak of the North.

"The four corners," the note read, "were once a crossroad. What one lacked, another offered. Stormcrest, the breath of sea and sky. Dawnbreak, the heart of learning and trade. Crimsonclaw, the iron will and upholder. Ironshade, the body and the bones of the land."

A soft breath escaped Serena’s lips. So simple, yet... so much deeper than she had imagined. She felt rather silly about this, Cullen would have loved to read on this and drone on and on about the books. Her hand raked through her hair as she straed at the books, everything was so interesting.

Her vision blurred again. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus. The candle beside her had burned low, the wax pooling into a misshapen puddle at the base. Her arms felt heavy and her mind ached from pulling itself in too many directions. But stil. just one more page, she promised herself. One more.

Then the quiet folded in around her.

The book beneath her cheek was warm from her breath. One of her hands remained stretched across the table, loosely curled, the other nestled near the edge. Her shoulders rose and fell with soft, even breaths, hair splayed across parchment.

She didn’t stir when the door creaked open behind her.

The morning light was beginning to spill faintly through the narrow window panes, casting long, golden slivers across the floor. The library was otherwise silent.

Darius stood in the doorway, his brows raised in mild surprise. He had come to clear his thoughts, too many restless dreams, too much pressure from the talks. He often found peace in this place, surrounded by the carefully arranged books and old memories.

But there she was.

It was Serena fast asleep and draped over a collection of ancient texts like some scholar who had battled knowledge until her strength gave out. Her fair brow was creased slightly, like she had fallen asleep mid-thought.

His gaze softened. He stepped quietly forward, boots silent on the stone. He paused beside her, careful not to startle her. Her fingers twitched slightly in sleep, like she was still grasping at some truth.

Darius smiled faintly and lowered himself into the seat beside her. He placed a hand under his chin and watched her curiously, he preferred the quiet and did not reach to wake her up.

Instead, he rested his elbow on the table and leaned slightly in. After a few beats of his heart, he reached out and took her hand in his. Her skin was warm. Her hand relaxed instinctively against his own.

Darius had unfortunately been attacked by one of those headaches that felt like a nail was being hammered into your head. He could barely sleep but somehow seeing her made the pain subside. They had not really talked much since the arrival of the Dawnbreak wolves, everyone was too occupied to his dismay.

Darius could see the margin notes she’d been reading. The treaties, the history. She had been trying to understand this world, his world. Darius exhaled slowly and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"Thank you," he whispered in the fading candlelight.

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