Chapter 3: Whispers In The Moonlight

Maeve.

Strength surged through me like lightning in bone, cold, sharp, alive. My back arched and a gasp ripped free.

“Run.”

The voice wasn’t mine. It pulsed wildly inside my skull, loud and urgent.

“Run, Maeve. Run. Do not stop.”

My lips trembled. “Who… who is that?”

But before I could think, my body obeyed. My legs kicked the ground, my feet raw and bloody. I stumbled, then found myself sprinting into the forest.

The night blurred. Wind screamed in my ears. My breath tore through me like glass.

“Faster,” the voice urged.

“I can’t,” I whispered, choking on blood. “I can’t.”

My feet pounded the earth, slipping on roots, scraping against stone. Thorns tore at my calves. Bark slashed my arms.

“Go, Maeve. You are not safe. Not yet.”

Tears burned my eyes. My lungs were fire, my ribs knives. “I am trying. I swear I am trying.”

I leapt over a fallen log, crashed through thick brush. My toes split open on jagged rock. Every step hurt. Every breath broke.

But I did not stop. I could not.

Minutes bled into hours, or maybe time broke apart. There was only the pain, only the voice, only the need to move.

“Keep going,” the voice pressed. “Do not let them find you.”

My body trembled. My knees gave way for a moment. I staggered, then forced myself upright. “Please,” I begged, voice hoarse. “Please, just let me rest.”

No answer. Only the pounding in my skull, the voice whispering again. “Run.”

Pain speared through my leg, sharp as a blade. I cried out, stumbling forward. My vision cracked, stars bursting behind my eyes.

“No. No, please,” I gasped at the sky. “Not yet. Not now.”

The ground tilted beneath me. My body collapsed, blood and dirt smearing across my skin.

This time, I did not get back up. Darkness rushed in, heavy and final, swallowing everything.

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Light crept through the cracked walls, threading in like fingers against my skin.

My eyes opened slowly. Everything ached. Not just pain. Confusion coiled inside me, heavy and choking.

“Where…?” My voice broke, dry as ash. My throat burned when I tried again. “Where am I?”

The air was sharp with herbs. A shadow moved along the wall.

“Oh. You are awake.”

A woman stepped forward. Her sunken eyes locked on me, sharp, unblinking. Like a hawk circling prey.

I tried lifting my head, but a hiss slipped out. “Ouch.” My skull pounded, the room spun. “Who are you? Where is this place?”

“You are safe now, child,” she said. She leaned in, her fingers brushing the bruises on my hand. “I found you half dead in the woods. So I brought you here.” A thin smile touched her lips.

Safe. The word sat heavy in the air. Safe was not for me.

“Safe?” My laugh came out broken, almost bitter. “I do not even know what that means anymore.”

“You are in White Moon,” she answered simply. “Do not try moving yet. You were out for two whole days.”

White Moon. The name hit me like ice water. A place isolated. Ruled by laws that cut deeper than blades.

I had clawed my way out of one hell, only to land inside another.

My fingers twitched against the blanket. I turned my head slowly and caught my reflection in a cracked mirror.

A streak of white cut through the black of my hair.

My stomach dropped. “What… when did that happen?” I whispered.

“You are healing faster than anyone I have seen,” she said, her voice curious. “The goddess must love you. Where are you from, child?”

I swallowed hard. Love? The goddess? No. If she felt anything for me, it was hatred.

If this woman knew the truth of where I came from, she would drag me back. Back to Johan. Back to pain.

“I… I do not remember,” I whispered, my gaze on the floor.

Her silence stretched long, pressing against my chest. At last, she nodded. “It is fine. Let it return in pieces.”

I almost believed her. Almost.

“But outsiders are not allowed in White Moon,” I said, voice low, guarded. “Why did you save me?”

Her eyes softened. “What kind of mother leaves a dying child to rot for the sake of rules?”

I froze. Something inside me twisted. Trust was dangerous. I had learned that the hard way.

She touched my arm gently. “If you remain here, you will be safe. But stay out of sight, if you want to live.”

Hope clawed weakly inside me. Small. Fragile.

She left for a moment, then returned with a bowl. “Drink.”

The liquid smelled sweet, like cherries, but burned bitter against my nose.

I stared at it. “What is it?”

“Medicine. For your wounds,” she said.

My stomach twisted with hunger. My lips cracked from thirst.

“If you wanted to kill me,” I whispered, fingers curling around the bowl, “you would not have bothered saving me.”

I drank. The taste scorched my throat, but I forced it down.

I told myself I would stay a day. Just one day. But one day bled into another, then another.

I moved quietly, helped with herbs, spoke in half-truths, smiled just enough. My body healed faster with each passing night.

Until the full moon came. Its silver glow spilled through the cracks, painting the room in cold light.

It reminded me of Johan’s blade. The one that had pierced my wolf.

“There is a ceremony tomorrow,” the woman said as we sorted herbs. Her voice trembled. “The Alpha will be there, along with the elders. It is very important.”

My heart stuttered. I nodded slowly, pushing the knot in my throat down.

She bent, pulled a worn photo from beneath the table. A plant with silver leaves and glowing blossoms.

“I need this herb,” she said. “It blooms only under the full moon. But I cannot leave the Alpha’s side. Not tonight.”

Her voice dropped low. “Go at midnight. No one can see you. And do not, under any reason, go near the old stream.”

I owed her this much.

“I will get it,” I said firmly.

Her smile was faint, almost fragile. “Thank you.”

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The forest was silent except for the sound of my steps. Every branch seemed to hold its breath, every shadow stretched too long under the pale light of the moon. I shouldn’t have been out here, not at this hour, not this close to the forbidden stream—but I needed the herb, and I had no choice.

The air grew colder the deeper I went. Then I saw it: the stream, glowing faintly as though the moon itself poured into its waters. And standing there, half-shadow, half-light, was a man.

He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever seen. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, skin marked with dark tattoos that seemed to move with the water’s shimmer. His presence pressed against me like heat, and yet, he hadn’t spoken a word.

My throat went dry. My feet wanted to run, but my eyes betrayed me, clinging to every detail of him.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice was deep, rough, and far too amused.

I stiffened. “I… I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he cut in smoothly, lips twisting into something between a smile and a warning. “And I’ll let you, this once. But tell me—why are you really here, little wolf?”

I swallowed, forcing my chin up. “I need the herb.”

He studied me for a long moment before turning, gestures lazy but commanding. “Then take it. Quickly.”

I bent down, fingers brushing the cool leaves, and when I looked up—he was gone.

No footprints. No sound. Only mist curling above the stream as if the night itself had swallowed him.

My heart thundered in my chest. I clutched the herb, but the silence around me felt heavier than before, dangerous somehow.

And one thought refused to leave my mind.

Who was he? Or rather… what was he?