CHAPTER 13

Aria's POV.

Kael was trying to say something as the wind outside howled like a wounded beast, rattling the shutters of the small healer’s cabin we’d hidden in. I held my daughter very tight and close, her tiny form wrapped tightly in a soft blanket. She was barely a few days old, but I could feel the energy pulsing from her even in sleep—like a heartbeat that wasn’t just hers, and I felt something greater in her.

The moon hung heavy in the sky tonight—full and bright. A silver eye watching us from above. The Blood Moon had passed, but this one… this moon was no less strange.

“Sleep, little star,” I whispered, rocking her gently. “Mama’s here.”

And then it happened.

A glow, soft at first, shimmered beneath her blanket. I pulled it back slowly.

There, on her shoulder, just below her collarbone—the mark.

I had seen it before, the night she was born. But now, in the moonlight, it came alive. The crescent shape burned with pale silver light, and lines of ancient runes spread like tiny rivers across her skin, pulsing.

A sudden wave of warmth burst out from her, like a soft breath of wind.

The lantern flickered, and the walls trembled.

And far beyond the forest, I knew… someone else would feel it.

Someone like Magnus.

My breath caught in my throat. “No,” I whispered. “Not now…”

I clutched her tighter, shielding the glow with the blanket. The mark slowly dimmed, like it had never been there. But something had changed. I could feel it in my bones.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door.

My heart jumped. I moved quickly, standing between the door and the crib. But then I heard the voice.

“Aria, it's me. Elias.”

There was a sense of relief in me. I opened the door gently.

Elias stepped in, and sat on the couch, his eyes wide, breath misting in the cold night air. He looked shaken. “Did… did something happen here?” His gaze swept the room, landing on the crib.

I nodded. “The mark. It glowed. The moonlight—” I paused. “It sent out something. A pulse.”

“I felt it,” he said, and his voice tight. “So did the forest.”

He pulled back his cloak and set down a bundle. Inside was a silver bowl, polished smooth like moon-glass, and herbs I didn’t recognize.

“I’m doing moon-reading. Now. We have to know what she carries.”

I wanted to argue. To protect her. But something deep inside me whispered: *let him*. I remain silent.

We sat by the fire. Elias ground the herbs into a fine and smooth powder, then he mixed them into the water, and whispered old words—ones older than the pack, older than the mountains. As he chanted, the bowl shimmered, and light rose from the water in slow spirals.

A figure formed in the steam. I saw a woman with flowing hair, burning eyes, and a crown of silver thorns.

“The Luna Sovereign,” Elias said under his breath. “A child blessed by the old gods.”

The steam spun, danced—and then cracked into pieces.

The bowl shattered in Elias’s hands.

He sat back, breath stolen. “This… This changes everything.”

I could barely speak. “What does it mean?”

“She’s not just special, Aria. She’s protected. The old magic is awake again. That pulse—it was a warning. A boundary. Anyone who means her harm… won’t be able to reach her now.”

My knees gave way and I dropped into the chair behind me, holding my daughter very tight. “Magnus…”

Elias looked at me. “He can’t reach her. Not now. Not while the moon blesses her.”

But I wasn’t so sure.

Because I could feel something else, too.

A strange prickling behind my eyes. Like a thread pulling me toward someone else’s heartbeat. Someone else’s pain. Someone’s… fear.

I blinked and looked at Elias.

He was anxious—but more than that, I could feel what he was *thinking*. The cold pressure of worry pressed against my chest. And then I felt the wolf in the trees outside—a young one, limping, lost, and afraid.

“What’s happening to me?” I whispered.

Elias didn’t answer. He stared at me, pale. “Your powers,” he said finally. “They’re growing.”

He took a step toward me, then paused. “Aria, you need to be careful. If your mind opens too fast, it might break.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off my daughter.

She looked up at me then—her wide gray eyes filled with something ancient.

Like she already knew what was coming.

Far away, in the heart of the Ironspine Mountains, Magnus stood inside the royal library.

Dust coated everything. No one had walked here in years. He’d broken the seal himself—one of the last doors forbidden to him, even as Alpha.

He unrolled another scroll.

Old ink, black as night, scrawled across animal skin.

“The moon shall bear a daughter, wrapped in flame and betrayal. She will rise under crimson skies, and the gods will kneel again.”

Magnus’s hands trembled. He knew now—Aria’s child wasn’t just powerful. She was a prophet.

He closed his eyes. “Why her?” he whispered. “Why not mine?”

He slammed his fist against the wall, rage flooding through him.

But then he noticed something. A small note at the bottom of the scroll.

“The fire-born child can only be claimed by blood… or by the one who breaks fate.”

Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’ll break fate.”

He didn’t see the figure hiding in the shadows of the library—a woman cloaked in midnight.

Watching, and Waiting.

Back in the forest, the moon moved higher above the trees, bathing everything in silver.

Elias had fallen asleep because of the fire. I sat alone, cradling my daughter, trying to breathe through the storm of thoughts and powers inside me.

That’s when I felt it.

A flicker.

Outside.

I stood up slowly, careful not to wake Elias, and took some steps to the window.

I heard a sound in the trees.

I crept to the door, suddenly and pushed open just a crack.

Cold wind blew in, carrying a scent I didn’t recognize.

But there—on the ground—was a scrap of blue fabric.

I stepped outside and picked it up. My breath caught.

It was torn from my daughter’s blanket. And it was wet—with blood. Before I could call out, I heard it.

Footsteps.

Snapping twigs.

And a voice, low and rasping, whispering from the darkness.

“Found you…”

I turned—too slow.

A hand reached out of the shadows.

Black-gloved.

Clawed.

And then—