The Exiled Luna
His scent lingered, a mix of forest and musk, but it did nothing to calm the panic bubbling in my chest.
I tightened my hold on Thorold, pressing my lips to his soft hair. "Moon Goddess," I whispered, "please, protect us. Protect my son."
My plea was swallowed by the oppressive silence that followed. The air grew colder, and the faint scent of pine was replaced by something else—something ancient and unearthly. A chill crept down my spine, and before I could process what was happening, the room’s shadows deepened, pooling into a shape that materialized before me.
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