MasukThe scent of blood hit before the first scream. Metallic and raw, it sliced through the air like a warning bell seconds before the chaos began.
Rogues.
I didn’t need Celeste’s training to recognize the savagery of their auras as a pack of them stormed the neutral clearing, their snarls splitting through the murmurs of political chatter and soft music. For a heartbeat, the world froze. Then, like a dam breaking, panic erupted.
People screamed and scattered. Elders scrambled for safety. Warriors threw off cloaks and shifted mid-stride. I stood still, rooted by the familiar, paralyzing sense of being cornered, of danger creeping toward me while I remained unseen until I saw them.
Two children. Trapped beneath a broken merchant table, eyes wide with terror. A rogue snarled, lunging toward them like a bullet.
I moved.
This time there was no hesitation. No doubt.
Silver exploded over my skin as I shifted halfway hybrid form arms coated in fur, claws sharp and deadly, eyes glowing amber.
I slammed into the rogue mid-air, sending him sprawling. His breath left in a choked hiss as we rolled, locked in vicious combat. My claws found purchase in his shoulder, ripping, my teeth snapping inches from his throat.
“Luna!” someone shouted I didn’t know who.
The rogue kicked me back, but my training took over. I twisted, letting the momentum carry me into a crouch, then launched again. My fist connected with his jaw, a satisfying crack echoing through the chaos. He slumped to the ground, unconscious or worse.
The children stared up at me, speechless.
“Run,” I barked, voice deeper, laced with Alpha command.
They obeyed.
I turned, scanning the field. Dozens of rogues, more than I’d ever seen. Some were already locked in battle with warriors from every pack. Others hunted the weak and untrained, tearing through the crowd. My pulse thundered. I could run, slip away in the panic and stay hidden like Celeste warned.
But then I saw him again.
Kai Nightshade.
He was a blur of motion, every strike calculated. His massive form tore through enemies with raw power and precise control. He shielded the vulnerable with his body, snarling commands to organize the scattered fighters. A warrior Alpha.
And that was when I made my choice.
Not to flight.
but to keep Fighting.
I leapt into the fray, slicing through two rogues before they reached a wounded merchant. My strength felt endless, fury fueling every movement. Every claw swipe, every bone-snapping blow, burned away Marcus’s betrayal, cleansing my soul in combat.
A rogue lunged at my blind side, and I braced for impact but it never came. Instead, Kai’s massive wolf tackled him mid-air, teeth sinking into the rogue’s neck with lethal precision. He landed beside me, his coat soaked in blood and eyes locked on mine.
We fought back-to-back without a word.
Our movements synchronized as if choreographed by instinct. He slashed low, I went high. When I faltered, his flank shielded me. When he stumbled, I was already covering his six. It was terrifying how natural it felt.
And then it happened.
A rogue charged me. I turned, too slow, breath catching but instead of attacking, he froze mid-step, pupils dilating, limbs shaking. I felt it ripple out of me, like a shockwave of silent command.
Stop.
The rogue whimpered, crumpling to his knees.
I blinked.
Had I…?
Around me, three other rogues hesitated. Confused. Lost. Their aggression wavered under my gaze. My heart pounded as realization dawned.
Celeste had said I held a sliver of the Moon Goddess’s authority. Royal blood, born to command.
This was it.
My voice came out sharp and thunderous. “Stand down!”
Some obeyed. Others fled. Those who resisted were cut down by warriors catching on to the shift.
When the last rogue fell, silence blanketed the clearing. My breaths came in gasps, my body humming with energy. Dozens of eyes turned toward me.
Recognition.
Fear.
Awe.
And then…questions.
Who was I?
I straightened, blood dripping from my claws. “Anyone else need help?” I asked, trying to sound normal.
But the spell was broken. I stepped back, slipping into the crowd before the stares could morph into accusations.
Kai followed.
“You’re not what you seem,” he said quietly once we reached the trees.
I glanced at him. His shirt was torn, blood painted across his ribs, but his eyes…his eyes were soft.
“No,” I admitted. “I’m not.”
We stood in silence, the smell of ash and iron clinging to the air.
“I don’t know your name,” he added, “but I want to.”
I opened my mouth, but the sound of heavy footsteps stopped me cold.
Reinforcements.
The Silver Moon warriors.
Marcus.
I knew his scent before I saw his face. Pine smoke, betrayal, and heartbreak. I turned toward the commotion just as the Silver Moon patrol broke through the trees, led by the man who had once shattered my soul.
Marcus Steele.
His wolf was close to the surface, eyes glowing, lips curled back in a snarl as he scanned the aftermath. Then his posture faltered, a frown pulling at his brow.
He sniffed the air.
Again.
I backed further into the shadows.
His wolf reacted first howling low, confused and searching. His eyes darted around, landing on the bloodstained ground. His bond recognized me.
But his eyes did not.
My hair was shorter, now midnight black. My face was sharper. Stronger. My scent was cloaked, masked with the herbs Celeste brewed. He looked right at me and blinked…then turned his head, doubt settling on his features.
Behind him, Victoria appeared, draped in her usual vanity and venom.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice grating.
“Nothing,” Marcus murmured, but his stance remained rigid, alert. “I thought” His voice broke off.
Kai stepped forward slightly, not aggressively, but enough to place his body between Marcus and me.
Protective.
Territorial.
Victoria’s gaze narrowed.
Kai’s voice was cool. “You're late.”
Marcus looked him over, something tense pulsing between the two Alphas.
“Traffic,” he said curtly.
“Shame,” Kai replied. “You missed all the fun.”
Their words were mild, but the undercurrent was electric. Male dominance, pack rivalry, and something else possessiveness?
I turned to leave, not interested in Marcus’s regret or Victoria’s poisonous glares. My emotions were raw, the battle still pounding through my veins.
As Kai fell into step beside me, I let out a slow breath.
Then
“Wait.”
The word wasn’t loud. Barely a whisper. But I heard it.
I turned my head slightly.
Marcus stood still, brows furrowed, mouth open.
His eyes locked on mine.
Not my face.
My eyes.
Amber-gold. The only trait I’d never been able to hide.
“Luna?” he breathed.
My heart stopped. For a second, I almost answered.
But then I turned, slipped deeper into the shadows with Kai.
Leaving Marcus standing in the ruins of his own choices, whispering the name of the girl he threw away.
I might’ve slipped past Marcus for now but secrets like mine don’t stay buried for long. Not when rogue attacks keep closing in, and whispers start circling about a silver she-wolf who can command with nothing but a look.
And Kai?
He’s watching me closer every day.
I can feel it.
He’s already decided. He’s going to find out exactly who I am.
And when he does… everything changes.
(Two Hundred Years Later)The child asked the question all children eventually asked."Was Luna real?"The Keeper of Stories, an old woman whose silver hair caught the light from Kai's Tree just so smiled and set down her pen. The library around them hummed with the quiet energy of thousands of volumes, each one containing fragments of truth passed down through generations. But none were as worn as the book she had been transcribing, its pages filled with Luna's own hand."Real as the tree that shelters us," the Keeper said, gesturing to the window where ancient branches spread wide, their bark still glowing faintly with celestial light. "Real as the stones you walk on. Real as the air you breathe.""All of that is true," the Keeper replied, and at the child's confused expression, she laughed softly. "Come. Let me show you something."She led the girl through corridors lined with portraits, some painted, a few captured in the newer art of light-drawing that the scholars had recently p
I sat beneath Kai's Tree, my back resting against bark that had grown smooth and familiar over years of coming here to think and remember and simply be. My fingers traced the glowing patterns that pulsed beneath the surface, following veins of light that mapped his essence like rivers on an illuminated manuscript. The tree hummed with his presence, not metaphorically but literally, I could feel the vibration in my bones, could sense his consciousness distributed through wood and leaf and root.My children rested beside me very grown now, their faces carrying the lines that come from years lived fully rather than merely endured. Their eyes held echoes of all we had survived together: the curse and the wars, the transformations and reconciliations, the long slow work of healing that never truly ended but which had brought us here, to this moment of profound peace.Seraphina sat to my right, Alexander was to my left, solid as stone but gentler than he had once been, having learned that t
The air was still that evening in a way that felt intentional rather than accidental: no wind disturbing the leaves, no birdsong breaking the silence, just the rhythmic sound of chisels against stone that rang like heartbeats across the garden. The students of the Sanctuary knelt in concentric circles around the monument.The monument had grown over the years since its founding, expanding organically as more names needed recording. Rows upon rows of letters etched into pale marble that seemed to glow faintly in certain lights, circling the sacred tree that had grown from Kai's seed and which still pulsed with his lingering presence. The tree had become massive now, its branches spreading wide enough to shelter dozens beneath its canopy.I stood at the edge of the gathering. I watched as each child stepped forward in turn when their name was called, approaching the stone with expressions that ranged from solemn to fearful to quietly determined.I stepped forward into the circle where t
They sang about me now, and the songs had taken on lives of their own. Not in Hollowshade alone, where memory was still fresh and people could point to actual places where specific events had occurred. But across the realms in distant kingdoms and hidden valleys, in places I had never visited and among peoples who knew me only through reputation.Some called me the Flame Queen, the one who burned kingdoms for love and watched the ashes scatter without remorse. Their songs painted me as a force of nature, passionate and destructive as wildfire, consuming everything in my path while claiming it was for protection. They weren't entirely wrong, but they missed the quiet desperation, the slow corruption, the thousand small choices that accumulated into catastrophe.Others whispered about the Moon Curse, the creature who devoured her own soul and nearly took the world with her. These stories emphasized transformation over intention, focused on the wolf rather than the woman, made me into a
The air smelled of rain and forgiveness, that particular scent that comes after a storm has passed and the earth is washing itself clean. I walked barefoot through the glade where so much had happened, my feet finding the same paths I had run as wolf, where claws had torn earth and blood had stained stones. Each step sank into ground that was soft and welcoming, earth that once rejected me as contaminated but which now welcomed me home like a mother embracing a wayward child.This was where I screamed as my body remade itself, bones breaking and reforming, humanity bleeding away as the wolf emerged. Where I became the monster my children would have to fight, the nightmare that would haunt them for years.The memory burned, immediate and visceral despite the years that had passed. But it no longer owned me the way it once had, no longer defined every thought and feeling, no longer dictated who I was allowed to become.I lay down on my side, lowering myself slowly until my cheek pressed
Lanterns swayed from the trees like luminous fruit, woven with moonflowers and silver threads that caught starlight and transformed it into something softer, more intimate.It was the first Festival of the Mothers since peace had truly returned, since the last threats had been defeated and the slow work of healing had progressed far enough that people felt safe celebrating rather than merely surviving. I stood at the center of the courtyard, barefoot upon the stone circle.They had asked me to light the first flame, to stand as representative of all mothers who had struggled and failed and somehow continued anyway. The invitation had come from the council of village elders, presented with careful formality, giving me every opportunity to decline if the honor felt too heavy or the symbolism too fraught.It felt strange after everything I had done, after all the ways I had failed at the very role I was now being asked to represent to be honored in this way. The whispers still followed m







