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Ch. 1: The Night the Forest Looked Back
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2025-10-30 08:53:06The moon sat too low, like it was listening.
Kaelira Voss stood barefoot on the cold ritual stone, mist coiling around her ankles. Every eye in Vyrden Hollow Pack was on her—some expectant, most waiting for her to fail. At the edge of the clearing, Alpha Draven Corren leaned against a torch post, all shadow and command. “Run the perimeter,” he ordered. “Keep control this time, Voss.” Control. As if she hadn’t been practicing restraint her entire life. Kaelira dipped her head and stepped backward off the stone. One breath—and her body shattered into motion. Bone shifted. Skin split to silver fur. The forest rushed up to meet Ardyn, her wolf, with that intoxicating clarity that only came when the world finally made sense. We run for them again? Ardyn teased in her mind. We run for us, Kaelira answered. They darted through the trees, moonlight catching the edges of ferns. Patrol scents painted the air—pine, sweat, iron. But under it, something wrong. Blood. Young. Unclaimed. They found him half-collapsed by a rotted log: a boy no older than sixteen, one arm wrapped in wire engraved with burning sigils. “Don’t—” he gasped, seeing her eyes glow. “They’ll find me.” Kaelira shifted back, skin steaming from the cold. “You’re bleeding on pack land. That’s already a problem.” He swallowed hard. “My name’s Taren. They said this forest was safe.” “Safe from what?” “The Dominion,” he whispered. “They… experiment on wolves. With moonfire.” Kaelira’s stomach tightened. The High Lunar Dominion didn’t “experiment.” They cleansed. Footsteps snapped through the brush—pack warriors. If they found him, he’d be dead before he could finish that sentence. Kaelira pressed a finger to her lips, then dragged him behind the cedar roots. When Alpha Draven appeared, she forced her heartbeat calm. “Perimeter clear,” she lied. “Only deer sign.” He studied her too long before grunting. “Continue.” When the patrol vanished, Kaelira turned back to Taren. “You stay hidden until dawn. Then I’ll get you across the ridge.” Taren nodded, shaking. “Why help me?” Kaelira stared into the dark. “Because someone should.” A horn split the night—three sharp blasts. Border breach. Kaelira cursed and ran toward the sound. The Sigils of Velnor at the boundary stones glowed a sick blue. A figure stood on the far side of the border—tall, dark cloak, silver eyes reflecting the moon. King Zevran Kaelith. The Lycan King himself. “Your pack shelters what is mine,” Zevran said, his voice carrying through the pines. “Return the boy.” Draven stepped forward. “We shelter no one.” Zevran’s eyes cut past him—straight to Kaelira. “Then why does your blood smell like his?” Her pulse stuttered. “Maybe because I’m the only one who didn’t plan to kill him.” For an instant, the great King of Lycans looked amused. Then the ground trembled. The runes screamed white, and something dark peeled itself out of the treeline— a shape of claws and smoke that shrieked like broken metal. Taren screamed. Kaelira shifted before she knew she had moved. And the forest, for the first time, looked back.
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The tunnel narrowed until they had to walk single file. The air grew warmer the deeper they went, damp and heavy with the smell of stone that had forgotten wind. Every step echoed back as if the walls were learning the rhythm of their hearts.After what felt like hours, the passage widened. Faint blue light shimmered ahead—pale as moonlight but steadier, pulsing in long, slow waves. Kaelira raised a hand, the Mark on her wrist answering with a faint glow of its own.“Still with me?” she murmured.Zevran’s voice drifted up from behind her, low and dry. “Just enjoying the ambiance. Always wanted to vacation inside a dead god’s basement.”“Careful,” she said. “It listens.”“Good. Maybe it’ll rate my sarcasm.”She smiled despite herself and pushed forward.The tunnel opened into a cavern so vast her lamp barely touched the far walls. Bridges of petrified wood crossed pools that reflected the ceiling’s light in mirrored fragments. The air shimmered with faint
Blood of the Black Moon Ch. 48: The Cradle
The sound of the outer gate dying away left a silence too complete. Kaelira could hear her own heartbeat, and—beneath it—something deeper, slower, patient. The air pressed close, thick with dust and age. Zevran lifted the lamp from his belt; the blue-white flame trembled, throwing their shadows against a wall of carved stone.They stood at the mouth of a descending stair that curved like a throat into darkness. The walls shimmered faintly where quartz veins caught the light, making the descent seem alive.“Lovely,” Zevran muttered. “If tombs are your taste.”“It isn’t a tomb,” Kaelira said quietly. “It’s a heart.”She brushed her fingers over the nearest carving. Lines of script wound across the stone in spirals—neither council nor cult work. Older. The letters pulsed once beneath her touch before settling into a soft glow that lit the first few steps.Zevran eyed the glow warily. “Do all ancient runes flirt back?”“They respond to bloodlines.”“Good thin
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Rain hammered the Ministry roof until the walls hummed with it. The single lamp left burning threw long, distorted shadows across the maps of light that covered the table. Every so often a bolt of lightning flashed beyond the sealed window, bleaching the room white for a heartbeat before surrendering it again to gold and gray.Kaelira hadn’t moved since the councilors left. She stood before the glass maps, arms folded, eyes unfocused. The Mark glowed faintly through her glove—steady now, like it was waiting for something.Zevran watched from the corner. He’d stripped the leather from his gauntlets and was turning his dagger between his fingers, letting the edge catch the lamplight. His expression carried that particular calm he wore when his mind was moving faster than his blade ever could.“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.Kaelira’s reflection stared back at her from the glass. “That Meroth doesn’t want a weapon. He wants a key.”Zevran frowned. “To what?
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They left Verryn’s Gate at first light. The rain had cleared but left the world slick and cold, the kind of chill that crept into armor and stayed there. Market stalls were only just opening; merchants swept water from their awnings, pretending not to watch the two riders heading east.Kaelira could feel the weight of eyes even when she didn’t see them. Some glances carried gratitude, others suspicion. More than once she caught the shimmer of steel half-hidden in a doorway. No arrows loosed, no words spoken—just silent acknowledgment that she was dangerous and that everyone here knew it.Zevran rode close, cloak drawn tight. “You feel that too?”“The watching? Yes.”“Thought so.” He didn’t look around. “Frontier cities never keep secrets long. Someone’s already written our names on a report.”“To whom?”“Whichever noble wants to prove they can leash you before Eidryn does.”Kaelira sighed. “Then we ride faster.”The road east unfurled through low hill
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