"I've seen this crest before," Lucien muttered, holding the parchment between his gloved fingers as if it might bite.
Rhett paced behind him, jaw clenched, his boots scuffing the marble of the estate's council chamber. The stained-glass windows above cast fractured beams across the floor, turning Lucien's greying hair shades of crimson and violet.
"Where?" Rhett demanded, stopping abruptly.
"In the old trial records. The scrolls locked beneath the blood archive. I was a boy. Barely initiated into the order. The Elders kept the history sealed, what little was left of it. The Hollowfang Symbol was always marked with warnings. Forbidden. Taboo. Not just enemies, abominations."
Rhett took the paper from him and studied it again.
The crest was jagged, inked in a swirl of black and gold. A wolf's mouth open wide, devouring a crescent moon. A sun cracked in two behind it. Around the edges, small runes curled inward, like claws or teeth.
