Chapter #3 - The Wolves of the Lumenwild

We walked until the world itself began to blur.

The forest wasn’t just alive here and it was awake. Every step hummed beneath my feet, the ground breathing in rhythm with something ancient and unseen. The air shimmered faintly, silver dust rising whenever we disturbed the moss. Even the trees seemed to lean toward us, their branches curving like arms reaching out to listen.

I stayed close to Cael. Not because I trusted him and not yet but because he looked like the only thing in this place that obeyed gravity.

The others moved ahead in silence, shadows against the glowing undergrowth.

Kian whistled under his breath, all restless energy. The violet-eyed one, Auren but I’d learned his name when Kian said it half in jest and walked with the stillness of someone who had learned patience by bleeding for it. And the last, the dark one they called Nyx, moved like smoke, his presence heavy enough to silence even Kian’s jokes after a while.

When I stumbled over a root, Cael’s hand shot out, catching me by the elbow. His grip was firm, grounding. “Careful,” he murmured.

“I’m trying,” I said, breathing hard. “The ground’s moving.”

“It does that here.”

Of course it did.

After what felt like an eternity, the forest opened into a valley bathed in the light of both moons. At the far end, carved into the face of a cliff, stood what I thought was a ruin but a stone towers and arches draped in vines but until one of the towers exhaled light.

The glow pulsed once, then steadied, revealing carvings across the stone and wolves, moons, and spiral constellations that seemed to shift if I stared too long.

“The Sanctum,” Cael said.

Kian stretched his arms with a grin. “Home sweet haunted home.”

Nyx said nothing, but his eyes was black and endless and flicked toward the treeline behind us. “They’re still hunting her scent.”

Auren’s gaze landed on me again. “Then we shouldn’t linger.”

They led me toward the entrance with a vast archway lined with symbols that pulsed faintly in time with the mark under my collarbone. As soon as I stepped through, the mark warmed, then cooled, settling into a steady rhythm.

Inside, the air smelled of pine, rain, and something older was like iron and starlight.

The walls were alive with soft veins of light running through the stone, as though the entire place had been carved from moonlight. Wolves moved through the shadows and some real, fur glinting gold and silver, others spectral, their shapes flickering at the edge of sight.

Everywhere, I felt eyes on me. Watching. Measuring.

Cael turned to face me. “The Sanctum recognizes the mark. It won’t harm you.”

“Good to know,” I said. “Because I was just starting to think the walls might eat me.”

Kian laughed, leaning against a pillar. “They only do that if they don’t like you.”

“Enough,” Cael snapped.

Kian raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’ve gotten worse since the last moonrise, Alpha.”

That word again which was Alpha. It clung to him, heavy as armor.

Before I could ask what it meant, the floor beneath us lit up. Circles of light spiraled outward, forming a pattern beneath my feet with a crescent enclosed by twelve stars. The mark on my chest flared in answer.

Nyx stepped forward, his voice a low rumble. “It’s true then. The Moonfire isn’t dormant anymore.”

Auren tilted his head. “Not just awakened. Chosen.”

“Chosen for what?” I asked.

No one answered right away.

Finally, Cael met my gaze. “To finish what was started when the veil was torn.”

I stared at him. “You keep saying that like it’s supposed to mean something.”

“It will,” Auren said softly. “When the Moon calls you by your true name.”

“I already have a name.”

“Do you?” Kian’s tone was almost kind this time, a glimmer of sympathy hiding behind the smirk. “Names have power here. Sometimes, they’re just borrowed.”

I didn’t have time to respond but the mark burned again, hotter this time. A rush of energy flooded through me, bright and wild. The veins of light in the walls flared, matching my pulse.

The wolves and the real ones had lifted their heads and began to howl in unison.

The sound was mournful and ancient, vibrating through bone.

Cael stepped closer, his face half-lit by the glow. “You feel that?”

I nodded, trembling. “It’s like the ground’s breathing through me.”

“That’s the bond forming,” he said quietly. “Between you and the Lumenwild.”

“I didn’t choose to bond with anything.”

His expression softened, just for a heartbeat. “No one ever does. The wild chooses back.”

The air shimmered again, the light dimming to a gentle hum. The wolves quieted.

Auren placed a hand against the wall, eyes half-closed. “The mark is stabilizing. She won’t burn out tonight.”

“That’s… good?” I asked.

“Depends who you ask,” Kian muttered. “Half the pack will want to worship you. The other half will want to kill you before the prophecy wakes.”

“Prophecy?” I said, exasperated. “Okay, what prophecy? Someone start making sense before I start screaming.”

Cael’s gaze held mine, steady and burning. “The last time the Moon marked a human, the veil broke and the worlds almost merged. The Riftborn came through in endless numbers. Half the Lumenwild burned.”

“And now it’s happening again,” Nyx said, voice low. “Because she carries the Moonfire.”

I looked down at the glowing mark and the symbol that had ruined my night and possibly the universe. “So what, you think I’m supposed to fix it?”

Cael didn’t answer immediately.

Then, quietly, “No. I think you’re the reason it can be fixed at all.”

The silence that followed was heavy and the kind that meant nothing would ever be the same.

Kian broke it with a crooked smile. “Well, Elara, looks like you’ve got yourself a destiny.”

“Fantastic,” I said dryly. “Can I give it back?”

He chuckled. “Not how that works, Moonfire.”

Behind him, Auren turned toward the far door. “The Elders will want to see her at dawn.”

Cael nodded. “Then she rests until then.”

Nyx’s shadow stretched across the floor, swallowing the light as he moved. “Rest won’t change what’s coming.”

I caught Cael’s eye before he turned away. There was something in his expression but not pity, not fear, something older. Recognition, maybe.

As he walked off, I pressed my hand over the mark. It pulsed once, warm and alive, and for a moment I thought I heard that same voice again, the one from the lake.

Come home.

Only this time, it didn’t sound like a call.

It sounded like a warning.