Chapter 17- The Monastery

“This was the monastery?” Mikael asked. “The hell happened to it? I swear Alpha Claymore got a letter from them just before we left.”

“He did,” Eli confirmed.

“So what…” Mikael said, stepping forward. He immediately stepped back, and Peggy felt the wave of nausea surge through him. “The hell?”

“Are you ok?” Peggy asked, looking worried.

“I’m ok, I just, give me a minute,” Mikael said, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his face ashen.

“Nieve must have pressed on, past this point, to get that sick…” Eli said, watching Mikael’s reaction.

“Think this is magic or poison?” Peggy asked, still keeping an eye on Mikael.

“My guess? Both. It only seems to be when we cross a certain threshold, and it’s a strong, possibly emetic effect,” Eli said.

“It’s bullshit, whatever it is,” Mikael growled.

“Let me try…” Peggy said, stepping over where Mikael had been.

“Wait-” he said, reaching out… But Peggy was fine. She glanced around, waiting for any effect.

“Nothing…” she murmured.

“So this is just to keep werewolves away,” Eli mused, rubbing their chin. “Which is not how magic around a werewolf monastery should work.”

“That is a bit odd,” Peggy said. “And I don’t feel any, like, poison effects, so it’s not like pure wolfsbane.”

“Cover your mouth and nose anyway, just in case,” Eli said. Peggy nodded, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and wrapping it around her mouth and nose, tying it at the back.

“I’ll try to be in and out quickly,” she said.

“Yell if you need us,” Eli said with a nod. Mikael watched anxiously.

“I’ll be ok,” she said to Mikael, trying to placate him. It didn’t seem to work as, even as she walked away, she could hear him pacing behind her.

Peggy started investigating the grounds around the stone building first. The grass was slightly unkempt, and the small vegetable patch at the back had been left to become bug food. A large pumpkin at the back of the patch seemed to already be turning to mulch.

How long did it take for pumpkins to rot? Weeks? Months? Either way, the overpowering sweet smell of rot was perfuming the whole garden. Peggy grimaced and stepped back, walking around further to where the apiaries were. She knew other monasteries were known for looking after bees. She knocked on a hive. Nothing. Taking a deep breath, she opened it.

No bees.

No honey.

Just a light dusting of powdered sugar, likely from the monks checking for parasites.

But…

She glanced back at the vegetable patch. How was the powdered sugar still here in the time it took for a pumpkin the size of a small child to rot?

She shook her head and replaced the lid of the apiary. Peggy needed to look inside.

Stepping toward the back door of the monastery, she touched the wooden door, and it rotted off the hinges, falling to the floor…

“Well then…” she murmured, stunned.

Stepping inside, she found she was at the back of the kitchens. She could see through crumbling archways the refectory. She tried to creep through the room, the tiled flooring amplifying her steps uncomfortably.

She eventually stepped into the chapel. What had once been a serene room of worship was now sundered and scattered. The roof had a large hole in it, the walls had been blown out, and the windows were shattered. The only thing that seemed untouched was a statue of the moon goddess in the middle of the space.

The grey stone had withstood the wind and rain that entered through the hole in the roof with minimal weathering. The moon goddess was stood, her right foot flat on the floor, her left ankle pressed to the front of her right ankle, her left knee facing the left. Her right hand was palm up, giving or receiving something. Her left hand was raised, palm down, as if ordering or leading someone. Around her, her hair, veil, and clothes blew wildly, her canine eyes and ears focused forward, her wolf tail relaxed behind her. Whoever had carved this had put great reverence into it, especially as even the intricate diadem and ornate halo-like crown were rendered in stunning detail. The longer Peggy looked at the statue, the more she was sure she could see colours on the stone that weren’t grey. Soft blues, lilac, and platinum…

She shook her head. It was surely just a trick of the light.

Glancing around at the damage, she paused.

The bricks weren’t in the chapel itself.

If an attack had come from the outside, surely the bricks should have fallen inside the chapel? But no, they had been blown out, into the slightly too long grass. The wood of the roof, by contrast, had fallen into pews and around the statue. If Peggy didn’t know any better, she would have thought the statue had fallen through the roof somehow, but there were no cracks in the tiles under the statue. It had been here longer than the damage had.

As Peggy stepped forward, she heard a subtle click. She looked down.

Runes.

On their own, that wouldn’t have been an issue.

But now they were lighting up.

Pale blue light slowly spread along the lines of the runes and the interconnected ritualistic symbology on the floor.

Peggy’s heart thudded, and her breath caught. She didn’t know much about magic, but this didn’t feel safe. She went to move her foot, but as she did, images of explosions and her body splattered across the chapel walls filled her mind.

“Peggy!” she heard Mikael shout distantly.

Peggy suddenly felt as if she were stood on a landmine.

And if she moved…