CHAPTER 4 — THE BLOOD MOON PACT

The rain fell harder as Ayla followed Kian down the alleyway, her breath fogging in the cold. The night tasted of metal and electricity—sharp, alive, and watching. Every sound echoed: the drip of water from the rooftops, the rhythm of their boots against the pavement, the quiet thunder of her heartbeat.

  The mark on her arm hadn’t dimmed. It pulsed beneath her sleeve like it had its own pulse, responding to the moon that hung above them—red as a fresh wound.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, shivering.

  “Out of sight,” Kian said without looking back. “There’s a place near the river—a warded space. They can’t track you there.”

  “They?” she echoed. “The wolves? The… Shadow Clan, or whatever you called them?”

  Kian nodded, jaw tight. “They’re not wolves anymore. They’re something worse—hunters bound by inked runes and blood oaths. Their power comes from corruption.”

  “And mine?”

  He glanced at her then, eyes reflecting the moon’s glow. “Yours comes from what they lost. The pure form of the runes—the original ink. You’re not just marked, Ayla. You are the mark.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him how insane that sounded—but then her arm flared again, sending a ripple of warmth up her spine. The tattoos on Kian’s neck glowed faintly in response, like matching frequencies finding one another.

  She stopped walking. “What is that?”

  He turned fully, rain dripping down his sharp features. “It’s the bond between us. When I asked for that sigil earlier tonight, I wasn’t just getting a tattoo. I was sealing a link. That’s how the Runed Luna’s magic recognizes its protector.”

  Her stomach dropped. “Protector? I didn’t agree to that.”

  “No,” he said softly, “but fate rarely asks for permission.”

  Ayla glared at him, though her chest was tightening for reasons she didn’t understand. “You could’ve warned me.”

  He stepped closer. The air between them trembled, thick with static and something older than words. “If I had warned you, you wouldn’t have believed me.”

  Their eyes locked—hers filled with stormlight, his with silver fire. For a heartbeat, the chaos around them fell away. The world shrank to the rhythm of the rain and the pulse beneath her skin, steady and synced with his.

  Then, a low rumble shook the street.

  The air rippled, and the scent of iron returned—faint but growing stronger. Kian tensed. “They’re still tracking us. Move!”

  They broke into a run. The city blurred around them—graffiti-streaked walls, broken street lamps, the shimmer of puddles reflecting the blood-red moon. Ayla’s breath came in short bursts, every nerve alive with adrenaline and magic.

  They reached the edge of the river where an abandoned bridge arched over dark water. Beneath it stood a small brick tunnel half-hidden by vines. Kian pulled a chain of silver keys from his pocket, whispering something under his breath. The air shimmered as he unlocked the invisible.

  A door appeared where there was only stone.

  “Inside,” he urged.

  Ayla hesitated. “You really expect me to just walk into some magic tunnel with a guy who bleeds moonlight?”

  Kian smirked faintly. “Would you rather wait for what’s hunting you?”

  She sighed and stepped through.

  The tunnel beyond was warm, lit by dim lanterns that glowed with liquid light. Sigils were carved into the walls—lines and circles that seemed to shift if she stared too long.

  “What is this place?” she whispered.

  “The old wards,” Kian said. “Built before the clans split. Only the true-blooded can open it now.”

  “True-blooded,” she murmured. “So that’s what I am?”

  He nodded slowly. “You carry the original rune’s essence—the Alpha Sigil. That’s why your tattoos move. You were chosen by the ink long before you picked up a needle.”

  Her laugh was shaky, disbelieving. “You talk like destiny’s a contract I never read.”

  “In a way,” he said, “it is.”

  They reached a small chamber at the tunnel’s heart. A table sat in the center, covered in ancient scrolls and crystal vials filled with shimmering black liquid. The air pulsed with low magic.

  Kian closed the door and faced her. “If we’re going to survive what’s coming, we need to complete the Blood Moon Pact.”

  “The what?”

  “It’s the binding ritual between the Runed Luna and her protector. It strengthens the bond, hides your scent from the hunters. Without it, they’ll find you again within the hour.”

  Her pulse quickened. “You mean another spell? Another tattoo?”

  His gaze softened. “Something like that.” He unbuttoned his sleeve, revealing the mark she’d inked earlier—still glowing faintly. “It’s already begun.”

  Ayla’s breath caught. She could feel it too—the magnetic pull, the invisible thread tying them together. “And if I refuse?”

  He hesitated, then stepped closer, his voice almost a whisper. “Then they’ll kill you before the next moonrise.”

  Silence stretched between them. The lanterns flickered. Rain echoed faintly from above.

  Ayla swallowed hard. “What do I have to do?”

  “Let the ink choose,” he said.

  He took her hand gently, guiding it to his chest. Beneath her palm, his heart beat steady, grounding. “Close your eyes.”

  She did. The world shifted again—the smell of ink, the taste of rain, the hum of unseen energy filled her senses. Warmth bloomed beneath her fingers, spreading through her veins. Her mark burned, but not in pain—it felt alive, expanding, reaching for something just beyond understanding.

  When she opened her eyes, a new symbol had appeared over her heart and his—two crescents interlocked, glowing faintly with crimson light.

  Kian exhaled slowly. “It’s done.”

  Ayla looked down at their joined marks, awe and fear colliding in her chest. “What happens now?”

  He met her gaze with quiet intensity. “Now, we run. The pact hides you—but it also paints a target on me.”

  Before she could respond, the walls of the tunnel trembled. The lanterns flickered, their flames bending toward the door.

  A faint growl echoed from the passageway.

  Ayla’s voice trembled. “They found us already?”

  Kian’s eyes flashed silver. He drew his blade. “No… this isn’t them.”

  The growl deepened, rolling like thunder through the stones. The sigils on the walls began to flare red, one by one, bleeding light.

  Ayla stepped back, heart racing. “Then who—?”

  Kian turned toward the door, jaw tightening. “Something older.”

  The final lantern went out.