It is at this time, when the guard's footsteps cease at my cell, that dawn breaks uneasily gray once Rowan appeared. As the lock clicks open, his drawn, urgent face waits for me on the other side. "It's time. The Council has agreed: We are allowed to take the Stormfang shard. They will only grant you one opportunity to return in three days". Once the guard pulses me out, I did not listen when he spoke. "Three days? They wouldn't – they would condemn him in three days!" I seethed, my voice cracking. "I need to find him now". Rowan's eyes glistened with the fear, for me as much as at me. "Maris, listen. You cannot storm Stormfang himself alone". "If that is the arraignment, then I would take your horse. I will await nightfall". Our surroundings were silent. The talisman fragment throbbed from beneath the healer's cloak, a heartbeat demanding at my palm. Rowan held my gaze, then relented. "If you insist – take Steelhoof". He escorted me to the clearing of the back door in the cellblock's ruin, where his lean gray mare waited. Rowan unsaddled and handed me her; afterward, we exchanged parting words. "Wait until nightfall. The shadows are less dangerous". He kissed my forehead then said, "Promise me you will return. I will find the moon and we will meet in three days, at sunrise".
I nodded once, sharply, turned the mare toward the purple‑hazed woods, and rode into the unknown.
The darkness starred me in as I entered the edge of the woods. The soil was matted with herbs and moss and ancient oaks rose with contorted arms. I pulled the mare to a stop, breath in the chilly air steaming from me. The moon poured in amid the leaves, and leading the horse into a narrow deer-track, I struck deeper and deeper.
A solitary, distant howl shattered the night's song — low and pained. My chest tightened. It was him: the limping wolf I'd seen on the edge of the grove, the one whose howl had led me to Draven. And so, with the reins in my hand and in the direction of the sound, I vaulted from the mare after she stopped at a fallen log. But I hardly felt the cold wind nip through my shirt.
The branches lashed against my face as I ran; the pain in my wrist pounded. The pieces of the talisman glowed, leading me on like a beacon. My senses tightened: hoofbeat behind me—maybe it was an early return of Rowan or curious Moonshade sentries' patrol. I stepped off the pathway and trampled through brambles to where the noise had ceased.
I was then alone in a noiseless glade. The mist coiled around my ankles, and moonlight transformed all the droplets on the leaves into diamonds. Further on there was a sighed growl from under a leaning birch. I froze. My heart jangled like a tambourine.
An eye of silver was shining the log up. The wolf I recognized lay whimpering in a ball with his ribs heaving, his coat mats of blood. I squatted gradually, checking the distance. He'd brought me here deliberately — it was an invitation, an SOS.
"Easy," I whispered, quietly. "I'm here to help."
He drew back his lips, then lowered his forehead. I knew he spotted me, I could feel it. From my pouch I took out a cloth soaked in salve — Rowan's cure for deep wounds. I inched closer to him, then knelt before him. My hand was half‑a‑foot from the wolf's side.
But the little talisman in my hand spiked, as if animated. My fingers tingled. I swallowed. "Please… let me heal you."
I extended my hand feeling his fur against my fingertips. He winced, shuddering in agony like the touch of me sent silver fire through his blood. He let out a howling, human‑sounding cry and lunged forward snapping so fiercely — so feebly — but so fiercely — but it was too weak to do any damage. My vision blurred, stars cavorting on the periphery.
I jerked my hand away, tripping over the log. My hand shone bright enough to illuminate the clearing. The broken crescent burned like a star in my flesh, veins of magic running out from it.
I retched to my feet—"No!" —though I felt he needed me. His gold eye found mine, beseeching. I steeled myself to stay put, shaking. I had to try again.
I closed my eyes and took a shaking breath, and then I tentatively reached to his wound. This time, I laced Rowan's healing words — the herbal incantations that soothed with sight — into the magic of the talisman. The shard's light mellowed, forgiving.
And then I sensed it: a surge of energy, a tide turned. The wolf's wounds closed up, fur mending together across raw gouges in a bright green weave. His breath eased. He dropped his head and lay with it on his paws. Relief and victory flooded my senses—until pain sliced through my palm so sharp I fell to my knees.
And the wolf drew a single gasping breath. He was better. But I—I tasted iron. My vision wobbled. I bripped my free hand against the trunk of a tree for support. In the trees, leaves murmured secrets to the wind.
I dared a glance at my palm. The broken crescent lay blackened and its shards were burned at the edges. Streams of crimson spiderwebbed down my fingers — blood, my blood, my and Moonlight's magic. I let out a gasp and cupped my palm against my knees, my head in a whirl.
"Maris!" The silence was broken by a shout.A barked shout. I snapped upright.
-JEffing abnosomeight Behind me, light wavered on the path. Scores of armor‑clad hunters battered through the undergrowth—Stormfang warriors, their faces hidden behind leather, steel axes flashing. And at the front of them all was the same broad-shouldered leader from the grove, torch raised high.
My heart hammered. I lurched to my feet, looking for the wolf — but he'd slunk away into the darkness, whole and gone. Now there was only me, lit by torch glow, hurt and alone.
The commander's words were like a razor through the night. "Seize her!" He gave a signal, and the hunters spread out and took a position around the clearing.
Huffing and puffing, and holding my bleeding hand, I attempted to dab the wound. "I—I'm not—I mean you no harm," I shouted, my voice trembling. But steel-sharp axes of the officers sanwered in thundering tread.
"Silence witch!" the commander commanded. His stare with his ice‑steel eyes met mine. "Your magic summoned me. And now you'll bring death upon us all."
I swallowed, every part of me wanting to run. My legs trembled. Behind him, dozens of axes lifted in silent reproach. If I ran, they'd pursue. If I stayed, they'd kill me.
But I couldn't abandon him—Draven Storm—in that forest bleeding, scared. Blood and magic had mended at a terrible price. Yet again I was in the same position - leave the bond at the very first threat, or die trying to take what was mine by birthright.
My palm caught on fire and shot hot sparks into the wet air. I held out a hand to the commander. "All I wanted was to mend the bond between us—that wounded wolf is my way to reach him. I'm not your enemy — unless you force me to be your enemy."
A hush fell. The commander's torch flitted, casting dancing shadows. He looked at me as if a prophecy had taken on flesh.
Suddenly he lifted his torch, and shook it over his head, and the red cinders fell back into the fog. "Bind her," he snarled. "Take her to the Alpha's nest. He will decide."
Stornfang hunters advanced, iron boots crushing ferns. I backed up against a fallen tree trunk, blood dribbling from my fingertips. It was all I could do to rasp a breath, but there was defiance blooming in my chest. I squared my shoulders.
"Bring it on," I replied, my voice even. "I'm not going to allow fear to determine the kind of world I live in."
A hunter dove at me, iron gauntlet lunged for my arm. I flicked a wisp of magic off the remains of the talisman. A shiver of silver leaped between us, and he staggered backward, reeling. The commander's flambeau blinked with sudden surprise.
My heart roared. Now it wasn't about running away or hiding. It was a matter of proving that I could stand by the bond that had brought me to this planet in the first place. If saving one wolf had brought them here, by the shattered power in my hand, I'd stay right where I was.
The commander snorted, billowing his cloak and pointing his torch in defiance. "So be it, Moonbearer. Join us … or share the fate of the forest."
I took a breath, tasting the cool moist air. My blood sang, and beneath my skin, the talisman thrummed once more, as though it sensed me. I buried my fear and stepped forward—toward the hunters, toward the prophecy, toward him.
The axe‑blades raised again. The torchlight splashed us with flickering orange, silver. And somewhere in the heart of the wood, I sensed Draven calling me... urging me on.
With his hands pinning me down, gasping for air, I raised the chin and let the hunters take me into the dark.