The Mark Of The Moon

The pounding on the cottage door grew louder.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

“Coven Authority!” a voice barked from outside. “Open the door immediately!”

Clover’s heart hammered in her chest.

She looked from the door to her grandmother, who stood perfectly still, her face pale but determined.

“Listen to me carefully,” Agnes whispered. “No matter what happens, you must not tell them your name.”

“My name?” Clover asked, confused.

“It’s more powerful than you know.”

Another deafening knock rattled the cottage.

“We’re coming in!”

Agnes straightened her shoulders and walked to the door before Clover could stop her.

The door swung open.

Five figures stood outside, cloaked in dark gray robes embroidered with silver runes. Their faces were hidden beneath deep hoods, but each carried a staff carved with ancient symbols.

The tallest stepped forward.

“We detected Moon magic.”

Agnes gave a small laugh.

“Moon magic? In this little village? You must have traveled a long way for a fairy tale.”

The man’s gaze swept past her and landed on Clover.

His eyes narrowed.

“There.”

He pointed directly at her.

“The girl.”

Clover instinctively stepped back.

“What is your name?” he demanded.

She remembered Agnes’s warning and stayed silent.

The man raised his staff.

A pale blue light spread across the room, circling Clover like a living ribbon.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the silver clover-shaped mark on her wrist began to glow.

The room fell silent.

One of the hunters whispered, almost in fear, “The seal…”

Another took a nervous step backward.

“It can’t be.”

The leader’s voice became cold.

“Seize her.”

The hunters surged forward.

Before they could reach her, Agnes slammed the end of her walking stick against the wooden floor.

The cottage exploded with light.

Ancient symbols burst across the walls, glowing brighter than the sun.

The hunters cried out as they were thrown backward through the open doorway.

Outside, the ground trembled.

Trees bent as though bowing to an unseen force.

Clover stared at her grandmother in disbelief.

“You… you’re a witch.”

Agnes smiled sadly.

“I was.”

“You lied to me.”

“I protected you.”

The magical barrier around the cottage flickered.

Agnes’s smile disappeared.

“It won’t hold them for long.”

“What do we do?”

“You run.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“You must.”

Agnes hurried to an old wooden chest hidden beneath the staircase. From inside, she removed a small leather pouch and a silver pendant shaped like a four-leaf clover.

The same pendant from Clover’s dreams.

“I’ve kept this safe for twenty-two years,” Agnes said as she fastened it around Clover’s neck.

“The day you wore it again… I knew your past had finally caught up with you.”

Tears welled in Clover’s eyes.

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“I know.”

Agnes cupped her face with trembling hands.

“But you don’t need all the answers tonight.”

“You only need one.”

“What is it?”

“You were never ordinary.”

A thunderous crack split the air.

The glowing barrier shattered into countless shards of light.

The hunters had broken through.

“Take the girl!” their leader shouted.

Before Clover could react, Agnes thrust her toward the back door.

“Run into Blackwood Forest.”

“But—”

“Go!”

Reluctantly, Clover ran.

Branches whipped against her face as she sprinted into the darkness, tears blurring her vision.

Behind her, she heard spells exploding.

Wood splintering.

Voices shouting.

Then…

Silence.

She stopped.

Her breathing was ragged.

A terrible feeling settled in her chest.

“Grandma?”

No answer.

The forest seemed to swallow her voice.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed behind her.

She turned sharply.

The hunters.

They had found her.

“There she is!”

Clover backed away until her shoulders struck the rough trunk of an ancient oak.

There was nowhere left to run.

The lead hunter lifted his staff.

“By order of the High Coven, surrender.”

Clover closed her eyes.

Fear threatened to consume her.

Then she heard another sound.

A low growl.

It rolled through the forest like distant thunder.

The hunters froze.

The growl came again.

Closer.

From the shadows, enormous wolves emerged one by one, their eyes glowing gold beneath the moonlight.

At their head stood the largest wolf Clover had ever seen.

His black fur shimmered like midnight, and his amber eyes locked onto hers with unsettling intensity.

The hunters raised their staffs.

“The Shadow Pack…”

The massive wolf stepped in front of Clover.

Protecting her.

In a flash of silver light, the wolf transformed.

Where the beast had stood now stood a tall man dressed in black, his dark hair falling over piercing golden eyes.

He looked at Clover for a long, silent moment.

Then he turned to the hunters.

His voice was calm, but carried the weight of absolute authority.

“The girl…”

He stepped forward, power radiating from him.

“…belongs to me.”

The forest held its breath.