03

CORA

“Open the door, Cora Bell.”

The knock came again, louder this time. I froze, watching the faint light slip through the window. Dawn hadn’t even broken yet. My chest felt tight as I pulled the blanket off and walked to the door.

Two guards stood there. Both looked tired and uncomfortable. One held a folded paper sealed with the priest’s mark, and the other carried a silver band glowing faintly under the lantern.

“The order’s been signed,” the taller one said, eyes fixed on the floor. “By decree of the priest, you’re to be taken to the mountains before sunrise.”

The shorter guard stepped forward, grabbed my wrist, and locked the band around it.

“Silver restraint,” he said quietly. “Standard for the Rite.”

I nodded once. My throat burned, but I said nothing.

Behind me, Kira was already awake. She sat on the edge of the bed, her face pale and her eyes swollen from crying. She didn’t ask what they said. She already knew.

I knelt by the bed and pulled out the small box I’d hidden underneath. Inside was my mother’s necklace—the only thing I hadn’t sold or lost. The chain was thin, the moonstone dull from age, but I fastened it around my neck anyway. That was all I took.

Kira stood and caught my shoulders, her voice trembling. “You can’t go like this. They can’t just take you.”

“I don’t have a choice,” I said.

She blinked fast, her lips shaking. “If you ever see the moon past the forest,” she said quietly, “don’t look back.”

“What does that mean?”

She didn’t answer. She just looked at me, waiting.

“I promise,” I said finally.

Her hands were shaking when she brushed the tear from my cheek. “You’re stronger than you think.”

The guards shifted by the door, impatient. I gave her one last look. “Please take care of my mum.”

Then I stepped outside.

The air was cold, the streets still half-dark. The village looked asleep, and for a moment, it almost felt peaceful. The guards didn’t speak, and I didn’t ask where we were going. The only sound was the crunch of our boots on the dirt path.

When we passed the last house, I turned once. The village looked small from there, the lights fading one by one. It hit me that I might never see it again.

The guards stayed a few steps behind me, like being too close might curse them too. Every time I glanced back, they looked away.

The path climbed into the forest, winding toward the mountains. The fog thickened, rolling through the trees. The air was colder there, heavy and harsh.

No one spoke the entire way.

When the trees opened again, I saw it, the black carriage waiting at the edge of the fog. The doors were marked with the Blackwood crest. My stomach turned. Everyone knew what that crest meant.

The guards stopped a few feet away. One of them nodded toward the carriage. “This is where we leave you.”

“Who’s inside?” I asked.

Neither answered.

Before I could ask again, the carriage door opened. Men in dark coats sat inside, faces half-covered, their eyes unreadable. None of them looked surprised to see me.

I hesitated. One of them motioned toward the seat across from him.

“Get in,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Something about his tone made my skin crawl. I stepped forward, climbed in, and the door shut before I could take a full breath.

The carriage moved immediately, wheels creaking against the rough ground. The guards outside disappeared into the fog behind us.

No one inside spoke. The silence pressed hard against my chest. My hands were cold against my knees. I could feel the silver restraint pulsing faintly, locking me to my fate.

Then one of the men looked up, his eyes dark and sharp. “You’re Cora Bell,” he said quietly, like he already knew the answer.

I nodded once.

He leaned back slowly, and I caught the faint trace of a smirk.

“Then you’ve been chosen.”

My pulse jumped. “Chosen?” I repeated, the word strange on my tongue.

He didn’t explain. He just turned away, watching the fog outside like it was nothing.

Terror shot through me. Out of everyone marked for the Rite, I was the one they picked.

For a second, my whole world stopped.

*

“How much longer?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

The driver didn’t look at me. His hands tightened around the reins, and the horses snorted, restless. The carriage rocked over the uneven road, the wheels hitting stones that made the floor tremble beneath my feet.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked again.

He shifted once but kept his eyes forward. “To your fate.”

That was all he said.

I leaned back against the seat, trying to keep my breathing quiet. The men across from me didn’t speak. Every few minutes, one of them glanced up, then looked away.

The air grew colder as we went deeper into the forest. I could barely see through the window, only the faint outline of trees and thick mist. The horses slowed, uneasy. One of the guards beside the driver muttered something about “the line,” and the driver hushed him immediately.

I gripped the edge of the seat until my fingers hurt. The silver band on my wrist burned each time the carriage jolted. I wanted to rip it off, but I knew what would happen if I tried.

After what felt like hours, the fog began to thin. That’s when I saw a fortress rising from the cliffs. Stone walls stretched high into the clouds, black and cold even in the dim light. The gates were open, and faint sounds came from within: low, rough, and distant, like growls.

The horses stopped suddenly. They pawed at the ground, refusing to move closer. The driver climbed down and opened the door. “Out,” he said.

I hesitated. “Who’s in there?”

“Not my business,” he replied, motioning for me to step down.

My legs felt weak when I touched the ground. The air smelled of metal and rain. Mist clung to my clothes, and I could barely see a few feet ahead.

The guards didn’t follow me through the gate. They stayed behind the line like they were afraid to cross it. One of them tossed my scroll near my feet and turned away.

“Wait,” I said, looking between them. “You’re leaving me here?”

Neither answered.

The driver climbed back onto the carriage. The wheels cracked against the rocks as it turned. The sound faded into the fog until there was nothing left.

I was alone.

Cold air brushed my skin, and I felt tears roll down my face. I didn’t even bother to wipe them. A few months ago, I thought my life was finally changing, that maybe the Moon Goddess had decided to give me peace. But that peace lasted three days, and now even dying didn’t feel like something to fear anymore.

Then I heard footsteps.

They came slowly from inside the mist. I turned and froze.

A man emerged from the shadows, tall and broad-shouldered, his coat dark, his steps steady. There was a faint scar running from his jaw to his neck. His eyes were sharp, darker than the night, and when they locked on mine, I couldn’t breathe.

He stopped a few feet away. The silence stretched.

“You’re…” I started, my voice barely a whisper.

“Liam Blackwood,” he said, his tone calm but cold.

The name hit hard. Everyone knew it — the heir of the Blackwood line, the one who vanished after the war, the one people said was dead.

He took a step closer, and the air seemed to tighten. I couldn’t move. His gaze swept over me, stopping at the silver band on my wrist.

“You shouldn’t have come, omega,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I managed to say.

He looked at me for a moment, unreadable, then turned slightly as if deciding something.