The Moonlit Path

Dawn broke gray and cold through the trees, the first pale light creeping across moss and roots. Kaelen stirred with a groan, every muscle aching. His dreams had been fire and shadow—faces he didn’t know calling his name, Elira’s eyes turning to ash.

He woke to find her crouched nearby, sharpening her dagger against a river stone. The arrow still jutted from her side, though she had bound it tightly with strips of his ruined shirt. Her silver hair caught the early light, gleaming like spun metal. She looked…untouchable, as though no wound could truly reach her.

But Kaelen remembered how she had staggered, how her hand had trembled when she pressed it to her ribs.

“You should rest,” he rasped, his throat raw.

She glanced at him, one corner of her mouth curling faintly. “So says the boy who nearly burned himself alive.”

Kaelen grimaced. He sat up slowly, the memory of last night’s firestorm clawing at him. “I didn’t mean to. It just—happened.”

Elira studied him for a long moment, then nodded as if confirming something she already knew. “That is how it begins. But if you cannot learn to control it, it will consume you. And me.”

Her words landed like a weight. He remembered the vampire’s last snarl: When he dies, so do you.

“You meant it,” he whispered. “When you said your life is tied to mine.”

She set down the stone, meeting his gaze squarely. “I swore an oath centuries ago to guard the Thorne bloodline. Magic bound me to it. When the last heir was born—when you were born—my fate was sealed.”

Kaelen shook his head, disbelief warring with the faintest glimmer of memory. “But why me? I’m no one. I couldn’t even light a candle with magic before last night.”

Her violet eyes softened, though sorrow lingered there. “You are more than you believe, Kaelen. That is what makes you dangerous—to yourself, and to everyone else.”

Before he could answer, the forest itself seemed to hold its breath. Birds scattered from the branches, and a low, rolling growl rippled through the undergrowth.

Elira was on her feet instantly, bow drawn despite the pain it cost her. “They followed.”

Kaelen’s heart lurched. “The vampires?”

“No.” Her voice dropped to a tense whisper. “Worse.”

From between the trees, shapes emerged—hulking figures with fur matted and eyes glowing silver. Their bodies shifted unnaturally, somewhere between wolf and man, claws digging furrows into the soil. One raised its head to the dawn and howled, the sound tearing through Kaelen’s bones.

Werewolves.

The pack fanned out, circling. There were at least six, maybe more in the shadows. Kaelen gripped the useless remains of his poker before realizing it had melted to slag. He had no weapon. Only the fire inside him, and that was as likely to kill Elira as their hunters.

The largest of the wolves padded forward, towering over the others. Its silver eyes locked on Kaelen.

“The blood stirs,” it growled, its voice a gravelly rumble that no beast should possess. “He belongs to the Moon.”

Kaelen’s skin prickled. “It—spoke.”

Elira didn’t lower her bow. “They are not beasts, Kaelen. They are cursed men. And they want you as much as the vampires do.”

The wolf’s lip curled, revealing teeth like ivory knives. “Come willingly, boy, and the curse will be broken. Resist, and we will drag you in chains.”

Kaelen’s pulse thundered. He wanted to laugh, to deny it, but the wolves’ eyes pinned him in place. Some part of him—the same part that had felt chains in his chest last night—recognized their claim.

“Elira,” he whispered. “Why do they all want me?”

Her answer was steady, though her bowstring trembled. “Because you are the one thing that can unmake them all. Or set them free.”

The pack surged forward.

Elira loosed her arrow, striking the lead wolf in the shoulder. It barely slowed. She grabbed Kaelen’s arm, dragging him into a sprint.

“Run!” she shouted.

And as the forest exploded with snarls and pounding paws, Kaelen’s fire clawed once more at the walls of his chest, begging to be unleashed.