Chapter 12: The Luna Revelation

(Penny’s POV)

The glade fell behind us as we slipped back into the forest, the stone shelter vanishing like a dream I wasn’t sure I’d had. Genesis moved ahead of me, sure-footed, silent, every step deliberate. The gray fur cloak he’d draped over my shoulders was heavy, warm, insulating me from the night chill that had started to seep through the trees. It smelled like him, pine, earth, and that faint, wild musk that made my pulse skip every time I caught it.

We didn’t speak at first. The only sounds were our footsteps crunching on fallen leaves, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the distant howls that seemed to echo approval rather than threat. His pack. They knew he’d succeeded in the ambush. They knew he’d brought back… whatever I was.

I kept my eyes on his back—broad shoulders under a fresh shirt he’d grabbed from the shelter, bandages hidden now but still there. He shouldn’t have been moving like this. Not after the fight. Not after carrying me. But alphas didn’t complain. Or at least, the one I’d written didn’t.

After what felt like an hour, maybe more, time blurred in the endless dark, we crested a low ridge. The trees thinned, and suddenly the landscape opened up.

A valley stretched below us, bathed in moonlight. A river snaked through the center, silver and winding. On its banks, a settlement—larger than the villages I’d seen. Stone and wood buildings clustered around a central keep that rose like a jagged tooth from the earth. Torches flickered along walls and paths. Figures moved, wolves patrolling, humans tending fires. It looked… fortified. Ancient. Like something out of a medieval fantasy, but with the sharp edge of reality.

“Silverfang Hold,” Genesis said quietly, stopping beside me. “My home.”

I stared down at it. “It’s beautiful.”

He glanced at me. “It’s dying.”

The words hung between us.

I turned to him. “What?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gestured for me to follow him down a narrow path that switchbacked toward the valley floor.

We descended in silence. As we got closer, details sharpened: guards at the gates, human and wolf, nodding to Genesis as we passed. A few curious glances at me, whispers I couldn’t catch. The air smelled of woodsmoke, baking bread, and fur.

He led me to the keep, a massive stone structure with high arched doors and windows glowing with candlelight. Inside, the halls were wide, floors worn smooth by generations of feet. Tapestries hung on the walls, faded scenes of wolves under full moons, battles long past.

We climbed a spiral stair to a chamber high up. It was simple: a large bed piled with furs, a hearth with a crackling fire, a wooden table scattered with maps and scrolls. A window overlooked the valley.

Genesis closed the door behind us. The latch clicked like a decision.

“Sit,” he said, nodding to a chair by the fire.

I did, grateful for the warmth licking at my chilled skin. The crimson dress felt absurd now, like a costume I’d worn too long. The fur cloak slipped from my shoulders; I caught it before it fell.

He poured two cups of something from a pitcher, dark red liquid that steamed faintly. Wine? Mulled something. He handed me one, then sat across from me on the edge of the bed.

“Drink. It’ll steady you.”

I took a sip. Spiced wine, warm, tart, with hints of clove and berry. It slid down easy, blooming heat in my chest.

He watched me for a moment, then set his own cup aside untouched.

“You need to know what you’ve walked into.”

I met his gaze. “I think I already do. But tell me anyway.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers laced. Firelight danced across his face, highlighting the scar on his cheek.

“This world… our world… is ruled by two clans. Silverfang and Crimson Claw. We’ve warred for centuries. Territory. Resources. Bloodlines.”

I nodded. I’d written it that way, endless conflict to build tension.

“But it’s more than that now,” he continued. “We’re dying. Both clans. No true mates. No Lunas. Without them, our blood weakens. Pups are born sickly, if at all. Alphas grow feral, uncontrolled shifts, madness under the moon. The packs fracture.”

His voice was low, steady, but I heard the edge. The weight.

“Lunas are rare,” he said. “Born with the power to bond. To balance the beast. To strengthen the line. The last one died a generation ago. Prophecies spoke of another,the last hope. A stranger from beyond. One who carries no scent of our world but smells of destiny.”

He looked at me then, really looked. Eyes storm-gray, intense.

“You.”

I set the cup down hard. Wine sloshed over the rim.

“No.”

“Yes.”

I stood, too fast. The room spun a little. “I’m not a Luna. I’m not your prophecy. I’m a nurse from Weyburn who writes stories to escape her boring life. I don’t belong here.”

He rose too, slower, careful. “You smell like one. Kael knew it. My pack sensed it in the ambush. Even I…” He trailed off, jaw clenching.

“Even you what?”

He stepped closer. Close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes.

“When I woke in that cave, your scent was everywhere. Human, but more. It pulled at me. Calmed the beast. Healed faster than I should have.”

“That was the meds,” I protested weakly.

“No.” His voice was soft now. Rough. “It was you.”

I backed up a step. Hit the wall. “This is insane. I want to go home. My apartment. My job. My real life.”

He didn’t crowd me. Just stood there, expression unreadable.

“You can’t. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you leave, the clans fall. The wars rage until nothing’s left. And Kael, the Crimson alpha, won’t stop hunting you. Neither will the king.”

“The king,” I echoed. “Who is he?”

“My father.”

The words hit like a slap.

“Your… father?”

He nodded. “Ruler of both clans in name. But the rift is deep. He seeks a Luna to unite us. To sire an heir who can hold it all.”

“And he’d claim me? His son’s… whatever I am?”

Genesis’s eyes flashed silver. “He’d try.”

I slid down the wall, knees giving out. Sat on the cool stone floor, dress and fur pooling around me.

“This can’t be real.”

He crouched in front of me, same as in the glade. Reached out, hesitated, then cupped my chin gently. Tilted my face up.

“It is. And you’re in it.”

Tears burned my eyes. I blinked them back.

“I don’t want to be.”

“I know.”

His thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped anyway.

We stayed like that for a long moment, fire crackling, world outside howling softly.

Then he stood. Offered his hand again.

“Rest tonight. Tomorrow… we’ll figure out the rest.”

I took his hand. Let him pull me up.

He led me to the bed. Pulled back the furs.

I climbed in without arguing. Exhaustion hit like a wave.

He turned to leave.

“Genesis?”

He paused at the door.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

He looked back. Something soft in his eyes—gone in a blink.

“Sleep, Penny.”

The door clicked shut.

I lay there in the massive bed, staring at the canopy overhead.

Luna.

Prophecy.

Last hope.

The words swirled like smoke.

And underneath it all, a traitorous warmth in my chest.

Because part of me, the part that had written this world, wondered what it would be like.

To be claimed.

To be wanted.

To stay.

But the rest of me, the real me, just wanted home.

And as sleep pulled me under, I whispered to the empty room:

“Find a way back. Before it’s too late.”