The Red Moon (3)

Seraphina's POV

My reasoning was simple: though the heads of the Moonbane family were prodigious, possessing unmatched talents, they were also prone to dying young. My grandmother, the former head of the family, had died at the age of thirty-five.

Thirty-five. It was such a young age, even by human standards. From what I had learned, the advancements in human medicine had pushed their average lifespan to seventy or even eighty years. For a wolf as powerful as my grandmother to die at thirty-five seemed... wrong. Unnatural. And yet, this was the fate that awaited every head of the family. It was part of our legacy—a legacy both glorious and cursed.

But fortune had smiled on the Moonbane family, for every time one head passed away, a new pair of twins had already been born to carry on the family’s honor. By the time my grandmother died, my mother had been strong enough to assume leadership. Now, at sixteen, Stephen and I were already supposed to be learning to manage family affairs, preparing ourselves to take over, as tradition demanded.

But we weren't. Instead, we spent our days indulging in whatever whims we pleased. It wasn't for lack of willingness on my part—at least, not initially. No, my body had betrayed me.

Since the age of twelve, when I had once been able to defeat most warriors, my health had taken a strange and drastic turn. My body grew weaker, and though I could still feel the immense power coursing through me, every time I attempted to tap into it, something went horribly wrong. My heart would race uncontrollably, my blood pressure—an odd term I learned from human medicine—would spike to dangerous levels, and soon after, my transformation into my wolf form would abruptly stop. I’d be left gasping for breath, my body shutting down, forcing me into bed for three months, sometimes more.

Helena had tried to soothe my fears, explaining that my power was growing too rapidly for my physical form to keep up. “Once you’ve fully matured, Suri, your body will catch up. Everything will balance out,” she had assured me, using the nickname that only she and Stephen were allowed to call me by.

But her words did little to calm my frustration. Losing the ability to wield my strength felt like losing a part of myself. What was worse was watching Stephen grow stronger and more capable with each passing day. His powers rivaled mine, yet he suffered no ill effects from using them. There was no struggle for him. He flourished while I wilted.

During the early days of my illness, I was filled with a bitterness I had never known before. Each day spent confined to my bed only served to deepen my resentment. I lashed out at everyone—Helena, Stephen—even though they had done nothing to deserve it. I hated the world and everything in it, including the people I loved most.

Helena, patient as always, would bear the brunt of my angry words with calm understanding. No matter how cruel I became, she never wavered in her gentleness. She would sit by my bedside, stroking my hair, whispering words of comfort that I didn’t want to hear. Stephen, too, would visit every day, his presence steady and reliable as always. He never let my venomous outbursts get to him. In time, their kindness wore me down. Shame crept in, and eventually, I couldn’t bear to recall the awful things I had said to them in those dark moments. How could I have spoken that way to Helena, the woman who had raised me like her own child? How could I have hurt Stephen, my twin, who shared my blood, my fate, my very soul?

It wasn’t long after that Helena suggested I attend a human school. She believed it would be good for me, a way to distract myself from my frustrations. “You need to expand your horizons, Suri,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “There is more to life than power and strength. Perhaps spending time among humans will help you understand the world better.”

Stephen had agreed and insisted on accompanying me. “Helena is right,” he told me one evening as we sat by the fire. His eyes, ever calm, seemed to hold the wisdom of someone far older than sixteen. “As future leaders of this family, we need to understand the world beyond our tribe. If we stay isolated here, within these walls, we risk falling behind. Even the strongest tribe can fall into decline if it ignores the changes happening around it.”

That was Stephen—always so responsible, so thoughtful. He embraced his role as the future leader with grace and maturity. Sometimes, I wished I could feel the same sense of purpose. But the truth was, I had never been as eager to take on the responsibilities of family leadership. Despite the fact that the Moonbane family head had always been female, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Stephen would make a better leader than I ever could.

“It’s not possible, Suri,” he would say whenever I suggested it, his lips curving into a bittersweet smile. I knew what worried him—the family curse. It hung over us like a shadow, inescapable and cruel.