The Beast's Moon Part 1

Kieran -

The wolf knew every root, every stone, every hollow in this stretch of forest. My paws found purchase on ground that would have sent a human stumbling, while my nose cataloged scents layered like pages in an ancient book—deer that had passed hours ago, the musk of a fox denning nearby, the green smell of sap bleeding from a wounded oak.

But tonight, even the familiar comfort of the hunt couldn't quiet the restlessness that had been building in my chest for weeks. The curse had its rhythms, its predictable ebbs and flows, but this was different. This felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting for something to either pull me back or push me over.

The waxing moon hung above the canopy like a silver coin, not yet full but close enough that I could feel its pull in my bones. Three more nights, and the change would be involuntary—a fact that had governed my life for more years than I cared to count. But tonight, I'd chosen this form, sought the wolf's clarity when my human thoughts had become too tangled to parse.

Alpha. Lucas's mental voice reached me across the pack bond, tinged with the particular mixture of respect and concern that made him an excellent beta and an occasionally infuriating friend. You're ranging far tonight.

I slowed to a trot, tongue lolling as I caught my breath. The pack's territory stretched for miles in every direction from the castle, but I'd pushed beyond even our usual boundaries. Dangerous, Lucas would say. Reckless.

Needed to run, I projected back, not bothering to explain the clawing need that had driven me from my chambers and into the forest. How could I explain that twenty-seven years of isolation had finally started to feel like a cage instead of a sanctuary?

The full moon approaches. His thoughts carried a warning I'd heard too many times before. You've been... unsettled.

Unsettled. Such a mild word for the way my skin had started to feel too tight, the way I'd begun pacing the castle corridors like a caged animal. The way I'd caught myself standing at windows that faced south, toward the human settlements I'd spent decades avoiding.

I shifted back to human form without ceremony, bones reforming with the familiar ache that never quite became comfortable. Naked in the moonlight, I leaned against the rough bark of a pine and tried to organize thoughts that felt scattered as autumn leaves.

"Lucas." I spoke aloud this time, knowing he'd appear within moments. The beta bond was strong enough that he could track me anywhere within the territory, but calling for him directly was faster than waiting for him to follow my scent trail.

He materialized from the shadows like smoke given form—a talent that had served him well in the forty years since he'd sworn fealty to my family. Still in wolf form, he was smaller than me but more agile, his gray coat nearly invisible against the forest floor.

Shift, I commanded, and he obeyed without question.

The transformation rippled through him with the fluid grace of someone who'd learned to embrace rather than fight the change. When it was complete, he stood before me in human form—a man of perhaps fifty, though the exact count mattered less when your lifespan was measured in centuries rather than decades.

"You're thinking too much," he said without preamble. It wasn't a question.

"The prophecy," I said, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. "It's been... persistent lately."

Lucas's expression didn't change, but I caught the way his shoulders tensed. We'd all heard the words whispered by the witch who'd bound me to this existence twenty-seven years ago. Some days they felt like cruel mockery; others, like the only hope I had left.

"When the rose is plucked by desperate hands, she will come. When the bargain is struck in blood and fear, she will stay. When love grows where hatred was sown, the beast will be free."

"Prophecies," Lucas said carefully, "have a way of fulfilling themselves. Usually not in the way we expect."

"Or want," I added.

He studied my face in the moonlight, reading expressions I thought I'd learned to hide. "You've been avoiding the pack."

It wasn't an accusation, exactly, but it wasn't wrong either. The younger wolves had started to whisper when they thought I couldn't hear—questions about my fitness to lead, about whether an alpha who spent more time in solitude than with his people could truly understand their needs.

"They're restless too," I said. "The approaching moon affects us all."

"It's not the moon, Kieran." Lucas's use of my given name instead of my title carried its own weight. "They can sense your... hunger."

Hunger. Another word that didn't quite capture the gnawing emptiness that had taken up residence in my chest. The bone-deep loneliness that made every dawn feel like a small defeat, every sunset like a reprieve from another day of existing without truly living.