Chapter 4 - The Castle That Dreamed of Wolves

Lila’s POV

The woods shifted as I ventured farther inside.

What started out as familiar terrains of pines and darkness soon turned ancient and wild. Cold crept in, the air thickened; almost like the trees held memories of days before packs, power struggles, or broken promises.

I wandered on for hours, maybe even days. Hunger rumbled my stomach every now and then but grief burned hotter — Mother’s voice, Kael’s words, the crowd whispering, they all blurred into one endless echo.

Then through the fog, I saw it.

A ruined fortress — or better put the carcass of what it would've onced looked like.

Vines coiled tight around the walls, silver moss spread across cracked stone. The towering gates dangled crooked off their rusted joints, the air around shimmering slightly, almost like a mirage. I nearly missed it at first glance, almost as though the place wanted to stay hidden.

Something pulled me closer, the air prickling my skin, humming a silent warning.

Inside, the corridors sat hushed — thick with old dust, haunted by shadows. Moon light slipped in through the cracks in the windows, spilling across the ground like faint embers.

My boots echoed in the quiet, each step sounding back strange — too loud for a place this dead.

The second i stepped into the grand hall I felt it — an invisible force, gentle yet steady like the muffled pulse of an ancient power buried beneath the rock.

In the center of the room sat a stone altar.

Resting on it was a relic — a silver shard formed like a crescent moon split down the center yet still shining with light trapped within.

My pulse quickened

“Don’t touch it,” reason whispered.

Yet my wolf kept urging me - Touch it.

And so I did.

Just as I touched the relic, everything burst into light.

Agony ripped through my body burning hot like liquid fire coursing through my veins scorching and burning through every bone in it's path. I fell onto my knees hands clutching my chest as strands of glowing silver snaked across my arms like creeping ink. My whole world shook fiercely; dust, dirt and debris all spinning above me in a whirlwind of power.

Light pierced straight into me - not round or above - right through. My back bent backwards, a scream erupted from my throat as my bones shifted inside.

Fur erupted, then vanished. My claws ripped through the floor then melted into human fingers. My form flickered; breaking and reforming; human, wolf, a hybrid of the two. My body parts cracked apart, then snapped back different each time.

I couldn't stop it.

Power surged like wildfire, blistering, wild. My wolf howled inside me — not in pain, but in recognition. My body convulsed once more, spine bending, teeth sharpening into fangs, eyes burning molten white - bright as flame.

I saw flashes — visions. Wolves made of starlight bowing before a woman cloaked in moonfire. Her bright crown cracked, shards flying over bones and blood. A voice, soft, terrifying, divine - whispering through my mind.

“Daughter of Moonblood, lost to the light, found in the ruin. Rise.”

Then, darkness.

I woke up to the crackling noise of fire and the scent of herbs close by. A throbbing ache pounded behind my temples as the relic still pulsed faintly against my palm.

I wasn’t alone.

An older man sat nereby tending to the flames, his eyes a pale silver, the color of frost and forgotten wisdom. His scent didn't match that of any pack I knew. Rogue - yet calm, steady. Dangerous in that quiet certain way wolves rarely possessed.

“You’re fortune I found you when I did,” he said, voice filled with warmth. “The Moon doesn’t always spare those She touches.”

"Where am I?" My throat burned as I spoke.

He stirred a pot by the fire. “My territory. A refuge, of sorts. The rogues you were taught to fear find home here — and bleed less than most Alphas I’ve known.”

I dragged myself up, wincing as a rush of dizziness hit. "Who are you? What's your name?"

He smiled softly. “Ardan. Once, I was Alpha of the Wyrmrest Pack—before the councils burned our lands. Now I keep what’s left alive.”

My hand drifted to the mark still emitting a soft glow on my arm. "What happened to me?"

Ardan’s gaze softened, like he was looking at a memory, and not a girl. “What happened is what was always meant to. The blood in your veins isn’t just Silverfang. It’s older—Moonblooded. Your line comes from those blessed, or cursed, by the Moon Goddess Herself. Few still carry it. Fewer still survive it.”

I stared at him, my heart racing, temples throbbing in pain. "That's not possible my mother would've—"

“Your mother buried more than truth to keep her throne,” he interrupted quietly. “You were never meant to find it. But the Moon always collects what’s Hers.”

The relic still glowed in my hand, now cool to the touch. I looked down at it sitting up straight only to fall back down with a loud thud eliciting a dry groan from my throat. My head pulsed from the contact with the ground black spots clouded my vision and then everything went dark.