Beneath the Moon's Shadow

The moon hung heavy over Blackthorn territory—low, red, and swollen like it had bled into the sky. Ezra stood right where the trees met the clearing, arms folded tight across his chest, his jacket doing a crap job against the cold. The mark on his arm wasn’t glowing now, but it felt alive, like it was humming secrets just beneath his skin.

He hadn’t slept. Not after that Ritual Hall freakshow. Not after hearing his name whispered in a voice that definitely didn’t belong to anyone living.

Kael had walked him back to his room afterward. No words, just that intense silence between them. He paused at the door like he wanted to say something—but then turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Ezra alone with a thousand unanswered questions.

Now he was here, the trees looming like quiet watchers. The air was sharp in his lungs, and his thoughts wouldn’t quit spinning.

Behind him, slow footsteps crunched the frost.

“Figured you’d be out here,” Kael said, voice rough like gravel and exhaustion.

Ezra didn’t turn. “Let me guess—pack’s betting I’m the second coming of some cursed prophet?”

Kael stepped beside him, close enough that Ezra could feel his heat, but he didn’t touch him. “No,” he said. “They just think you’re trouble.”

Ezra snorted. “They’re not wrong.”

Kael glanced over. “I don’t.”

That made Ezra blink. When he looked, Kael was watching him with that same unreadable steadiness, like he was holding something back but not looking away.

“What happened in the hall,” Kael said slowly, “there’s an old story. A bloodline marked by the moon. Too wild. Too powerful. Supposedly hunted into extinction.”

Ezra stiffened. “You think I’m part of it?”

“I think our pack’s curse started around the time that bloodline vanished,” Kael said. “And your mark… might be the only way to undo it.”

Ezra let out a dry laugh. “Fantastic. So I went from ‘unwanted omega’ to ‘magical fix-it token’ overnight.”

Kael’s mouth twitched—just barely. “I’m not asking you to save anyone. I’m saying be careful. If this gets out… there are packs out there who’d come for you. Not just to talk.”

Ezra looked down at his hands. Same old scars. Same old calluses. Didn’t feel like ancient blood ran through them. Just pain, grit, and survival.

“Didn’t ask for a mate,” he muttered. “Definitely didn’t ask for a cursed destiny either.”

Kael was quiet for a beat. “You can still walk away.”

Ezra turned sharply, meeting his eyes. “You stood up in front of the whole damn pack and chose me. You don’t get to act like I can just disappear now.”

Kael didn’t blink. “I chose you. Not your blood. You.”

Ezra sucked in a breath.

No sweet words. No poetry. Just that raw, low voice—steady, honest, terrifying.

And just like that, the wall around Ezra cracked a little. Not because he wanted it to. Because Kael’s words felt like they meant something. Something dangerous.

Before he could respond, a long, sharp howl cut through the air—high, eerie, and not from a Blackthorn throat.

Kael tensed. “Scouts,” he said, already turning.

Ezra’s stomach dropped. “You mean—?”

Kael’s jaw clenched. “The rival pack. They’ve been watching since your mark lit up. Sounds like they finally made their move.”

Ezra’s heart slammed against his ribs. “What do they want?”

Kael looked back, eyes hard. “You.”

---

The main gate was a blur of motion. Wolves shouting, weapons drawn, the sharp tang of tension in the air.

Alric met them in the courtyard, barking orders like he was born for chaos. His silver-streaked hair was damp with sweat, his expression locked in that permanent scowl.

“Four wolves, north edge. Close enough to smell our breath,” he growled. “Didn’t cross the border. Yet.”

Kael’s voice was steel. “I’ll handle it.”

Alric’s eyes slid to Ezra. “They’re here for him.”

“I know.”

Ezra stepped in before the back-and-forth started. “Then let’s give them a show.”

Alric looked him up and down, unimpressed. “You’re either brave or stupid.”

Ezra smirked. “Little bit of both.”

Kael didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he almost smiled. Almost.

“Fine,” Alric grunted. “But if you get yourself snatched, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

---

The clearing near the border was quiet, too quiet. Frost crunched underfoot, the moon casting long, eerie shadows. Four wolves stood just beyond the invisible line—outsiders.

Everything about them screamed wrong. Their clothes, too clean. Their stance, too confident. Their eyes, too cold.

The leader stepped forward with a predator’s smile—slick, slow, dangerous. “So you’re the stray.”

Ezra crossed his arms. “And you’re the guy who needs a map.”

The scout chuckled, not kindly. “Got a mouth on you. Our Alpha’s gonna love that.”

Kael stepped in, voice like ice. “You’re on our land. Leave.”

The scout’s smile didn’t falter. “Our Alpha wants a meeting. Says if the mark’s real, the omega belongs to him by ancient right.”

Ezra pushed forward before Kael could say anything else.

“Tell your Alpha I’m not some prize up for auction,” he said, eyes sharp. “If he wants to talk, he better show his face. And he better bring more than fangs.”

Something flickered in the scout’s eyes. Surprise. Respect. Or something colder.

“I’ll deliver the message,” he said at last, and turned, vanishing into the trees like a shadow that never belonged.

Ezra finally let out the breath he’d been holding.

Kael looked over. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Ezra shrugged, trying to look cool even as his pulse raced. “Figured I’d start living up to all the hype.”

Kael didn’t respond, but his eyes lingered. “We need to tell the elders. Before this turns into a war.”

---

The council room was freezing, the fire barely giving off any heat. The elders sat like statues—old, suspicious, and already halfway into judgment mode.

Kael laid out everything: the Ritual Hall, the rival pack, the mark. No frills. Just facts.

Silence followed. Then—

“So… the Moonborn bloodline wasn’t lost after all,” one muttered.

“Or it’s a con,” another snapped. “Marks can be faked. Prophecies twisted.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Right. Because I’ve clearly got time to forge ancient glowy symbols.”

“No one’s accusing him,” Kael said, voice tight. “But it’s real. The scouts were real. And they’re not going to stop.”

The eldest elder leaned forward, eyes cloudy but sharp. “They’re watching. Testing our resolve. They’ll come again. Stronger.”

Ezra swallowed. “So what do we do?”

Kael looked at him. “We train. We prepare. And we make damn sure they don’t get what they came for.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

Kael’s stare was steady. “You.”

---

Later that night, Ezra lay in bed staring at the cracked ceiling, the wind howling outside like a warning.

He rolled up his sleeve.

The mark was faint now—just a shimmer of gold beneath pale skin. But it was there. Alive. Breathing.

He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want it. But it was his.

And whether he liked it or not, the world was watching.