Chapter Two: The Weight Of The Mark

(Zyandra’s POV)

I didn’t remember walking back to the manor — only the silence that followed me like a shadow.

The forest had gone still after the chaos, yet the echo of my heartbeat hadn’t stopped pounding in my ears. The air still smelled of smoke, pine, and something foreign that didn’t belong in Valyra — that shouldn’t belong here.

Human.

The word kept circling my thoughts like a predator stalking prey. Humans were myths, stories passed down to keep pups cautious of the wild. They were said to have destroyed the world long before the Moon blessed it with balance again. No one had seen one. Not in centuries.

And yet… I had marked one.

The corridors were empty as I entered the manor — everyone avoiding me, as they should. I was their Alpha, but even loyalty had limits when the Moon’s will was in question. The walls of stone felt colder tonight, every torch flame flickering with unease. I kept my shoulders straight and my head high, pretending I didn’t feel the weight of their fear pressing against my back.

My room was waiting for me — large, moonlit, and far too quiet. I shut the door behind me harder than I meant to, the sound echoing through the room. My reflection in the tall mirror stopped me cold.

Silver hair, tangled from the wind. Eyes glowing faintly green, still carrying the wild pulse of the ritual. I looked… different. Marked by something I didn’t understand.

I swallowed hard, rubbing the faint, burning mark on my shoulder. “No,” I whispered to the empty room. “This can’t be real. It can’t be.”

The Moon didn’t make mistakes. She never had.

So why did it feel like she just did?

I paced across the room, the echo of my boots hitting the stone floor grounding me against the chaos in my head. “A human,” I muttered. “The goddess must be mocking me. Of all creatures, she gives me that?”

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

“Zyandra?” Lydia’s soft voice came through the door, hesitant but familiar.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Lydia slipped inside, clutching a candle that cast long shadows over her face. Her golden eyes flickered — nervous, searching. She’d been my friend since we were pups, trained beside me, fought beside me. She’d seen me at my worst, but tonight even she looked uncertain.

“Everyone’s talking,” she said quietly, closing the door behind her. “The ritual… the mark… the human.”

I tensed, jaw tightening. “Then they can stop talking. I’ll deal with it.”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “Deal with it? Zy, the Elders are furious! They’re already summoning a council meeting at dawn. You marked a human under the Moon’s witness — do you understand what that means?”

I turned away, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “It means the goddess has a twisted sense of humor.”

“This isn’t funny,” Lydia whispered. “Zyandra, you’re the first female Alpha in Valyra’s history. The first to earn your title without inheritance. You’ve kept us united through famine, war, frost — you’ve done everything the Moon could ask of a leader. But this?” She hesitated, lowering her voice. “This might be the one thing she won’t forgive.”

Her words hit hard, sharper than they should’ve.

I walked to the window, looking out at the forest bathed in moonlight. “You think I don’t know that? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want a Luna. I’ve led fine without one.”

Lydia stepped closer. “Every Alpha says that until the Moon chooses for them.”

I turned sharply, meeting her eyes. “Then maybe the Moon should’ve chosen someone else. I’m not weak, Lydia. I don’t need anyone beside me to validate my strength.”

Her golden eyes softened, but she didn’t back down. “You sound like your father when he challenged the goddess’ decree. You remember how that ended.”

I did. I remembered too well — the blood on the altar, the storm that tore through the valley. The reminder made my stomach twist.

“The Moon doesn’t choose wrongly,” Lydia went on, her voice gentle. “There’s a reason she did this. Maybe the human isn’t—”

“Don’t,” I cut in sharply. “Don’t justify this.”

She flinched, but stayed. “You can’t ignore what’s been done. The bond’s already formed.”

My throat tightened. “Then tell me how to undo it.”

Her silence told me everything.

Finally, she whispered, “It can only break if he dies before the next full moon. Or… if you abandon your pack.”

A chill ran down my spine. “You know I’d never do that.”

“I know.” She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Then the first option is all that’s left.”

I turned away again, hiding the fury that flashed in my eyes.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. He had stumbled into our world — into my ritual — and now the goddess had decided he was mine? No. I refused to believe that fate could be so careless.

“Has anyone found out who he is?” I asked after a long silence.

Lydia hesitated. “No one knows. He was unconscious when you marked him. When the ritual broke, someone…” she trailed off.

I frowned. “Someone what?”

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Someone let him go.”

I turned sharply. “What?”

“They found the cage empty when the moonlight faded. No one saw him leave. No one knows who opened the gate. The guards swear they didn’t.”

A low growl rumbled in my chest before I could stop it. “Then someone within my pack disobeyed me.”

“Zy…”

I clenched my fists, forcing the wolf inside me back into silence. “Find out who.”

Lydia hesitated. “You don’t even know what he looks like clearly. You were—”

“I know what I saw,” I snapped, though even I doubted my words. The memory was blurred by moonlight and adrenaline — the silver glow, the air thick with power, the confusion in his eyes before everything had gone white.

I’d seen the flash of fear, the disbelief — and something else. Something… human.

Lydia sighed. “You should rest. The council meeting will be at first light. They’ll want answers, and you can’t face them like this.”

I nodded slowly, though rest was the last thing on my mind.

She hesitated, studying me. “Zy, I know you think you can handle this. But something like this… it’s not meant to be ignored. You should feel the bond already.”

“I feel nothing,” I lied.

Her eyes searched mine. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

But the lie barely left my lips before a sharp pain lanced through my chest. I staggered, one hand gripping the wall, a gasp tearing from my throat.

“Zyandra!” Lydia dropped the candle and rushed to my side. “What’s happening?”

The mark burned beneath my skin — a searing, electric pulse that spread like fire through my veins. I gritted my teeth, trying to stand tall, but the pain doubled, forcing me down to my knees.

“It’s—fine,” I hissed, but it wasn’t.

“The mark—” Lydia’s voice trembled. “It shouldn’t hurt like that unless—”

“The bond isn’t complete,” I choked out. “The ceremony… the Moon didn’t get her witness. The bond is unstable.”

Lydia’s eyes widened. “You mean—because he wasn’t there?”

I nodded, fighting to breathe through the fire burning beneath my skin. “The goddess demands balance. We didn’t finish. She’s… angry.”

Lydia grabbed my shoulders, panic written all over her face. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Nothing!” I snapped, shoving myself upright, though my knees nearly gave out again. “The goddess will get over it. I’m not chasing a human who doesn’t even belong in our world.”

The pain began to fade, slowly, leaving me trembling but upright. My breath came in uneven pulls, and I hated how weak I felt.

Lydia looked at me with worry, voice small. “You should tell the council. Let them decide how to handle it before the Moon—”

“I said I’ll handle it.” My tone came out colder than I intended, and Lydia’s expression faltered.

She nodded reluctantly, retrieving the candle. “I’ll… leave you to rest, then. But Zy, you can’t pretend this didn’t happen. Whatever the Moon started tonight—it won’t stop because you want it to.”

When she left, the door shut with a soft click, leaving me alone again.

The silence pressed in. My heartbeat filled the void, heavy and uneven. I stared out the window, the Moon still full and bright, watching.

The mark on my shoulder still pulsed faintly — soft but insistent, as though echoing a heartbeat that wasn’t mine.

Whoever he was, wherever he’d gone… I could feel him out there.

Human or not, he was linked to me now.

I leaned against the cold stone, whispering to the night, “You don’t belong here. And whatever you are — I’ll find a way to undo this.”

The Moon didn’t answer. She just stared down, bright and silent, as though she already knew how wrong I was.