Liz’s POVI stood in the middle of the clearing, waiting.The moon was beginning to rise. The trees were still. The wind didn’t move. The world felt like it was holding its breath.And then I saw him.Arthur stepped into the clearing with my body in his arms.Everything inside me went still.He didn’t rush.Each step was careful and deliberate, like he was carrying something sacred. He moved to the centre of the clearing and slowly lowered my body down onto the grass. I watched as he adjusted my hair. His fingers lingered, brushing over the curve of my cheek, his jaw tight.It was unbearable and beautiful all at once.I couldn’t stop staring. That was my body. That was me. But it didn’t feel like mine anymore. Arthur stood and stepped back. His eyes flicked up to the sky, then down to my body. The moon broke through the clouds then, full and bright, casting a silver glow across the clearing. It spilled down through the treetops and settled on us—on me.I held my breath, slowly mov
Liz’s POV“We need to get ready. Make sure we don’t miss anything,” Arthur said.His voice was steady, sure. Like he already believed this would work, and hope had already wrapped itself around him and refused to let go.I nodded and stood, falling into step beside him.But inside me, everything was trembling.Because while he spoke like this was the answer, I couldn’t stop the doubts pressing against my ribs.The story he found… it was beautiful. Poetic, even. But it didn’t speak about ghosts. It didn’t talk about what it meant to be stuck between life and death. That wolf in the story, he’d died. And his soul had stayed close, yes, but had he been forced to walk the world unseen? No.The story didn’t mention that.And part of me feared that my story didn’t match his. That maybe I was too far gone for moonlight to save.But I didn’t say that aloud.Because Arthur believed.And I needed to hold on to that belief, even if only a thread of it was mine. Because at the end of the day,
Arthur’s POVI didn’t wait.The book was clutched in my hand as I left the office, nearly tearing the door off its hinges in my rush to get to her.I could barely breathe.My boots hit the stone with purpose, each step louder than the last as I moved through the halls. I didn’t stop for anyone. Didn’t look back.I needed to see her. Now.When I reached the door, I pushed it open, hard enough that it slammed against the wall.Liz stood up from the bed, startled. Her eyes met mine instantly, wide and unsure.“I found something,” I said, voice rough with everything I was holding back.I crossed the room, not trying to hide my excitement. “This isn’t a maybe,” I said, stopping just in front of her. “It’s not another dead end.”I held the book up, opening to the worn page, the faded ink still clear enough to read. “There’s a story. A wolf… a warrior. He died, and his mate wouldn’t let him go. She waited for the full moon, and when the light touched his skin… something happened.”Liz’s li
Arthur’s POVThe sun had started to rise, but I hadn’t slept.The fire in my office had burned down to a faint flicker, and the stack of books beside me had doubled since Finn left.I rubbed my eyes and flipped another page.Inject energy into the soul tether.The words stared back at me from a dozen different notes and scraps, repeated in different ways, but none of them made it any clearer.Energy.But what kind?Magic? Blood? Moonlight?Every theory I had circled back to one truth—she was still here. That had to mean something. Some part of her soul was tethered, still clinging to this world. I shoved the book aside and grabbed another, this one older, its cover brittle and cracking, with a faded crescent stitched into the spine.Werewolves had always turned to the Moon Goddess.We draw power from the moon and its cycles. Our powers were the ancient force of night. Strength, healing, speed, all of it tied to the moon. But not resurrection. That was one thing we were never meant t
Arthur’s POVI stood on the other side of the door longer than I should have.I’d told her I had things to do, and I did, but my feet didn’t move.I just stood there, staring at the wood between us, my hand still on the handle, like I was waiting for something.A reason to go back.A reason not to.She’d smiled at me.Soft and Forgiving.But I’d seen the way her eyes avoided mine. The way her shoulders curled slightly inward, like she was trying to hold something in.I knew that look.She was pulling away. Quietly and Slowly. The way people do when they’re not sure if they’re welcome anymore.And I hadn’t stopped her.I ran a hand through my hair, jaw tight. There was so much I wanted to say. To explain. But I couldn’t seem to force the words out.I didn’t want to lie.But I wasn’t ready to tell her the truth either.That I was expected to marry soon.That both the council and my family had been pushing for it more and more with each passing month. That the pressure hadn’t let up, ev
Liz’s POVArthur didn’t say anything as we walked in silence. My mind was a mess, knotted and twisted, full of sharp edges I couldn’t smooth down.I wanted to ask what Cecilia meant. I wanted to know who he’d been expected to marry. I wanted to understand what kind of life I had stepped into by following him here.But I didn’t ask.I just walked beside him.When we reached his door, he pushed it open without a word.“Welcome home,” he said softly.I stepped inside slowly, my gaze drifting around the room. It was large but warm. Rich, heavy bookshelves. Stone walls softened by golden light. A fireplace still burning low.It felt like him.Every part of it.From behind me, his voice broke the silence again, nervous this time.“I’m sorry about Cecilia. She’s… a lot.”I turned and sat on the edge of the bed, letting my fingers sink into the blanket beneath me.“No,” I said quietly. “You have nothing to be sorry for. She seems lovely.”Arthur lingered by the door, eyes on me like he wante