LOGINThe world didn’t stop shaking after the observatory.
Even as we fled Moonveil’s highest tower, the blood moon still burned behind my eyes—too close, too loud, too aware. Power crawled under my skin like living silver, surging and retreating in violent waves that stole my breath. Every step away from the city felt wrong, as if something inside me was pulling in the opposite direction.
Calling.
Theo didn’t ask where we were going. He felt it too—through the bond, through instinct sharpened by years of surviving wars meant for other wolves. When I staggered, clutching the stone railing as the city lights blurred, he was already there.
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TheoI leave before dawn breaks properly.The manor sleeps under a fragile illusion of safety—guards doubled, wards reinforced, paranoia stitched into every corridor like a second skin. Even in stillness, Moonveil feels too wound up, waiting to snap. Sofia is resting when I go, though rest is a fragile word for what she does now. Her power never truly sleeps. It coils. It listens.The bond hums low and watchful, aware of my intent even if I refuse to name it aloud.That is the cruelty of it.If I tell her, she will follow.If she follows, the Moonborn will be seen.And if she is seen, the
TheoWe don’t return to the manor as victors.We return as a warning.The forest parts for us in uneasy silence as dawn threatens the horizon, the blood moon finally dimming behind a veil of cloud. Silver Lake is miles behind us, but its echo clings to my bones—the howl, the kneeling wolves, the certainty that something ancient has been loosed into the world.Sofia walks beside me, wrapped in one of my coats, her steps steady despite the strain still threading through her body. The bond between us has changed. It no longer pulls—it listens. Waiting.Every patrol we pass lowers its head.Some drop to one knee without realizing it.That alone makes the meeting unavoidable.By the time the manor gates close behind us, sentinels are already whispering. Scouts report unusual movements along the borders. Messengers arrive breathless with news of Elders sealing territories, of Council symbols burned into trees like threats.This is no longer a rumor.This is an escalation.I call the war cou
SofiaThe world didn’t stop shaking after the observatory.Even as we fled Moonveil’s highest tower, the blood moon still burned behind my eyes—too close, too loud, too aware. Power crawled under my skin like living silver, surging and retreating in violent waves that stole my breath. Every step away from the city felt wrong, as if something inside me was pulling in the opposite direction.Calling.Theo didn’t ask where we were going. He felt it too—through the bond, through instinct sharpened by years of surviving wars meant for other wolves. When I staggered, clutching the stone railing as the city lights blurred, he was already there.
TheoI feel her before I see her.The lifebond tightens beneath my skin like a blade drawn slowly, deliberately. It is not pain—yet—but pressure, heavy and intimate, dragging emotion across my nerves until I can no longer tell where my thoughts end and hers begin. Residual anger. Wind-burned tension. A flicker of fear she hasn’t acknowledged.She’s close.Moonveil Observatory rises above the city like an ancient watcher, its massive glass dome arching toward the sky as if trying to swallow the moon whole. The stone beneath my boots is cold, etched with celestial maps older than the Council itself. This place remembers power before laws, bonds before politics.I pace the center of the chamber, palms pressing briefly to the marble table carved with lunar cycles and blood-inked prophecies. The red veins threaded through the stone glow faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.Not mine.Hers.The doors grind open.Sofia steps inside.Moonlight spills over her like a living thing—silver
SofiaThe wind up here is cruel.It tears at my coat and stings my face, carrying the metallic scent of rain, steel, and the sleepless city far below. Moonveil stretches endlessly beneath Devereaux Tower—alive with light, secrets, and watching eyes. From this height, the city feels less like a home and more like a battlefield waiting to ignite.Leo chose this place deliberately.The rooftop helipad lies abandoned, cleared under the excuse of routine maintenance. No guards. No witnesses. Still, I feel the magic threaded into the concrete—ancient Alpha wards humming softly, loyal to the Devereaux bloodline. This is his territory. His stronghold.I shouldn't be here.Theo's voice echoes in my thoughts, firm and protective. Don't meet him alone.But Leo's message wasn't a request.If you want Theo alive, come.Leo stands near the edge of the rooftop, his back to me, coat snapping violently in the wind. His posture is rigid, burdened. For the first time, he doesn't look like a Council heir
The days following the blood moon passed like a held breath.Nothing openly shattered. No Council decree arrived. No pack rebellion ignited in daylight.Yet beneath the surface, everything burned.SofiaI could still feel it.The throne. The fire. Theo is bleeding at my feet.Every time I closed my eyes, silver heat coiled through my chest, restless and volatile, as if something inside me was clawing for release. I tried to breathe through it, to anchor myself in the present—the weight of my body, the earth beneath my feet—but the power didn’t listen.I







