6

The image refused to leave her mind. A crimson moon. A silver crown. A woman’s voice calling her home. Serafina stood frozen before the glass display, her heartbeat refusing to slow.

“What kingdom?” She asked quietly.

Martha followed her gaze to the ancient book. For a long moment, the older woman remained silent. Then she sighed slowly.

“A kingdom most wolves no longer speak about.”

“Why?”

“Because remembering it is so dangerous.”

Serafina frowned. “A book can’t be that dangerous, Martha.”

“No, but ther truth inside it can.” Martha looked at her.

Before Serafina could ask another question, another voice interrupted. “Martha.”

Both women turned. Darius stood in the doorway. His expression was unreadable.

“The council is waiting.”

Martha bowed her head. “Yes, Alpha.”

As she walked away, Darius’s eyes shifted toward Serafina. “You touched the display.”

“It was just glass.”

“But it reacted.”

Serafina stiffened. “You saw that?”

“I did.”

Silence stretched between them. Finally, Darius crossed the room and unlocked the glass case with a small silver key hanging from his belt. He carefully lifted the old book into his hands. Dust danced through the sunlight. The leather cover was cracked with age, yet the crimson moon emossed on its front still gleamed faintly.

Serafina couldn’t look away. “What is it?”

“A history book.”

“You don’t seem convinced.”

“I’m not.” He placed the book on a nearby table. “This isn’t the original one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The original book disappeared decades ago.”

“So... this is just a copy?”

“One of the few remaining actually.”

He opened the book slowly. Most of its pages had faded with time. Some had been torn away entirely. Others were covered with stains that looked disturbingly like dried blood. Serafina felt an odd ache in her chest. As though she had seen this book before. But still, it feels impossible for her. Darius turned several pages.

“This kingdom was called Blood Moon.”

The name echoed strangely in Serafina’s mind. Blood Moon. She frowned a little.

“I’ve never heard of it before.”

“I’m not surprised. Their history was erased.”

“By whom?”

Darius closed the book. “No one knows for certain. But the stories all end the same way. They were betrayed.”

A strange sadness washed over Serafina. “Did everyone die?” She whispered.

Darius looked at her. “So the stories say.”

Her chest tightened. For a brief second, she imagined flames consuming a castle. Warriors screaming. A child screaming. Then the vision disappeared before she could grasp it. She pressed a hand against her temple once again. These headaches and flashes. What was happening to her right now?

“You should rest.”

Serafina immediately shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“No.” Darius watched her carefully. “This is teh third time.”

She looked at him in confussion. “What?”

“You’ve experienced these episodes three times since arriving.”

She hadn’t noticed at all, but he had. That realization unsettled her.

“You’ve been watching me.”

“I have.” He nodded.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I need answers.”

“So do I.” She whispered.

Later that afternoon, the rain had finally stopped. Dark clouds drifted away, revealing a pale blue sky.

Martha suggested a walk through the gardens. “The fresh air might help.”

Serafina reluctantly agreed. The gardens behind the Alpha House were unlike anything she’d ever seen. Colorful flowers bloomed beside narrow stone paths. Tall willow trees swayed gently in the breeze. Butterflies fluttered  lazily from flower to flower.

“It’s beautiful.” The word escaped before she realized she’d spoken.

Martha smiled. “It is, right?”

“I’ve never seen flowers like these.”

“You’ve never been in a garden before?”

Serafina shook her head. “We weren’t allowed to waste land on flowers. Because everything in Shadow Fang had a purpose.”

“And flowers didn’t?”

“They couldn’t feed warriors.”

Martha looked genuinely saddened. “Sometimes beauty has a purpose too.”

Serafina didn’t answer, because she wasn’t sure she believed that. As they continued walking, a small voice called out.

“Miss!”

Serafina turned. The little boy she’d seen in the courtyard several days earlier stood several feet away, cluthing a wooden toy wolf. He looked no older than six years old. His mother quickly hurried after him.

“Evan! I told you not to bother her!”

The boy named Evan ignored her. He walked straight toward Serafina.

“Why did you look so sad, Miss?” The simple words caught her completely off guard.

Serafina blinked. She look so shocked. “What?”

“You always look sad.”

His mother turned pale. “I’m so sorry! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

She quickly bowed toward Serafina and Martha. “He... he doesn’t know any better.”

“It’s alright.” Martha gently reassured her.

The little boy tilted his head. “My daddy says you hurt people.”

Serafina lowered her eyes. “Your father’s right.”

“But, you don’t even look scary.” The boy smiled innocently.

Something inside Serafina cracked. Not painfully but quietly hurt her. She had been called many things in her life. Monster, assassin, and failure. Never, not scary. Before she could respond, the boy held out his wooden wolf.

“You can have him.”

His mother gasped. “Evan, you love that toy.”

Hus shrugged. “I think... she needs him more than I do mother.”

Serafina stared at the tiny carved wolf. No one had ever given her a gift before. Her fingers trembled as she accepted it.

“Thank you...”

The boy grinned. “You’re welcome.”

His mother led him away moments later. Serafina remained standing there, clutching the little wooden wolf in both hands. Martha watched quietly.

“Did you never received a gift before?”

Serafina slowly shook her head. “No. Never.”

From the balcony above, Darius had witnessed everything. Beta Kael stepped beside him.

“So? What do you think about her now?”

Darius kept watching Serafina below. She was still staring at the lottle wooden wolf as though it were the most precious thing she’d ever owned.

“That’s not how killers react.”

Kael folded his arms. “Maybe she’s just pretending.”

Darius was silent. Then he answered quietly. “No. I don’t think she’s pretending.”

His instincts told him otherwise. Because for one brief moment, the expressions on Serafina’s face hadn’t belonged to an assassin. It had belonged to a little girl who had spent her entire life waiting for someone to show her kindness.

And somehow, that realization angered him more than every crime she had ever committed. Whoever had turned her into a weapon, had first stolen her chance to be a child.