CHAPTER TWO

The soft hush of winter’s breath filtered through the barely open window. Snowflakes gathered along the sill, delicate and silent, like mourners gathering in reverence. Rhea sat beside the bed, her hand resting over the withered fingers of the only woman who had ever given her unconditional love—her mother.

Liora Stormclaw, once the vibrant Luna of the Bloodmoon Pack, now looked like a faded echo of her former self. Her once-rich auburn hair now hung in brittle strands, her skin translucent and marked with the passage of too many years burdened by too many silences. Yet her eyes—those gray-blue eyes—still held the fierce fire Rhea remembered from childhood.

“You shouldn’t be up,” Rhea said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her mother’s face.

“I’ve spent too many years lying down,” Liora replied, her voice hoarse but steady. “Let me sit… just a little longer.”

Rhea helped her shift on the pillows, arranging the covers gently. Outside, the wind howled, but inside the room there was only the hum of the hearth and the heavy weight of impending loss.

“I heard what Garrick has done,” Liora said.

Rhea stiffened. “Of course you did. The whole pack will know soon.”

Liora exhaled, the breath shaky. “Branor Ironfang,” she muttered. “He was a brute even as a boy. His father sent him to train here once. He broke another pup’s ribs just to assert dominance.”

“That’s the man I’m to marry.” Rhea’s voice was flat, hollow.

Liora’s hand tightened faintly over hers. “I failed you.”

“No,” Rhea whispered, shaking her head. “You never—”

“I did,” her mother interrupted. “Not in love, perhaps. But in protection. I stood by Garrick for too long, hoping I could temper him. Hoping you’d be spared the worst of it.”

Rhea’s throat ached. “He’s never raised a hand to me.”

“No. But he’s caged you in every other way,” Liora said bitterly. “I thought if I followed tradition, obeyed the path of a Luna, I could survive it. But I see now—I simply faded beneath it.”

She turned her head slightly, her gaze locking with Rhea’s. “I don’t want that for you. Promise me you won’t let this world turn you into a ghost.”

Rhea blinked, tears stinging. “What choice do I have?”

Liora coughed, a dry rasp, and Rhea reached quickly for the glass of water beside the bed. Her mother sipped from it slowly, then gestured toward the small wooden box on the nightstand.

“Open it.”

Rhea hesitated. She had seen that box her entire life but had never been allowed to touch it. Her mother kept it locked and close. Now it sat unlocked and waiting.

She opened the lid.

Inside, nestled in dark velvet, lay a brooch—no, a crest. A symbol she didn’t recognize. It bore the image of a wolf entwined with a moon, its eyes twin rubies. The metal shimmered faintly with a strange energy, ancient and unknowable.

“What is this?”

Liora’s lips curved into a weak smile. “Your birthright.”

Rhea’s brows drew together. “I don’t understand. This isn’t the Bloodmoon crest.”

“No,” Liora said. “Because your blood carries more than the Bloodmoon line. It carries something older. Wilder.”

Rhea stared down at the crest, heart pounding. “Tell me.”

Liora took a slow breath, summoning strength she barely had left. “My family… we were once part of a forgotten pack, one that no longer claims territory in these lands. The Moonshadow pack.”

Rhea frowned. “That’s a legend.”

“So the stories say. That they vanished. That they were too wild, too tied to the old ways. But the truth is—they went into hiding. Not out of fear, but to protect their bloodline. Because they carried something rare. The gift of Moonfire.”

Rhea felt the words lodge in her chest. She had heard tales of Moonfire wolves—beings said to hold ancient magic in their veins, tied directly to the moon goddess herself.

Liora reached for her hand again, her grip firmer now. “My mother passed it to me. I was not strong enough to bear it. The gift doesn’t always awaken. But you… from the moment you were born, I knew. There’s something inside you. Power. Light. And it will burn brighter than you know.”

Rhea’s throat closed around a thousand unspoken questions. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because Garrick would have tried to exploit it,” Liora said. “Or crush it. And I couldn’t risk that. I kept it secret to protect you. But now… he means to give you away. To a monster. And I won’t let my daughter walk into another prison.”

Rhea looked down at the crest again, her fingers curling around it.

“There’s a place,” Liora continued, her voice fading slightly. “Hidden in the southern forest. A ruined temple… the last place my people gathered. The magic there might recognize you. Might awaken something more.”

Rhea’s breath caught. “You want me to run.”

“I want you to be free.”

Silence fell between them, thick with memory, fear, and unspoken resolve.

Then Liora whispered, “Promise me.”

Rhea blinked, tears spilling down her cheeks as she leaned forward and kissed her mother’s forehead.

“I promise.”

Her mother smiled, the tension easing from her face.

“Good girl,” she murmured. “My fierce wolf… You were never meant to be tamed.”

---

She died three days later.

The entire pack mourned, but none truly grieved like Rhea did. Not the warriors who bowed their heads, not the Elders who muttered about tradition. Only Rhea had known the real woman behind the Luna’s mask—the one who laughed at poetry, who sang lullabies when no one was listening, who whispered stories of old wolves and hidden worlds into her daughter’s dreams.

The day after the funeral, Rhea sat in the dark of her room, the crest clutched in her hand. She no longer cried. There were no tears left.

Her mother had given her something greater than sorrow.

Hope.

And now, it was time to decide what to do with it.