The moon was waning.
Its glow no longer offered warmth or guidance, but something colder an indifferent reminder of destiny etched in bone and flame. Ever since the trial, something inside me had fractured.
Not broken.
Transformed.
I no longer dreamed like I used to.
Now… I saw.
Visions came not in my sleep, but in the spaces between breaths. In candlelight flickering. In the wind rustling the curtains. I would blink and suddenly be elsewhere on a battlefield of ash, standing beside wolves with silver eyes and bloodied fur. Or under the roots of a great tree, hearing whispers from ancient voices whose tongues I couldn't understand.
But the worst vision was always the same.
Lucian.
Holding the blade.
His hand trembling.
His eyes full of everything he'd never said.
Then the cut.
Then the fire.
And then
Darkness.
It had been three days since the Elders branded me.
The sigil still burned beneath my skin, though no mark remained on the surface. I felt it in my blood, like molten iron coursing through my veins. Kieran checked on me every morning, every night, always keeping his distance but never leaving me fully alone.
He was the only one I trusted now.
And I could feel that beginning to change too.
He watched me differently. Not like I was a girl he used to spar with, but a storm he didn't quite understand. Not yet afraid. But uncertain. Like everyone else.
And maybe they should be.
I sat beneath the ash tree again, the place where I took the blood oath.
It had begun to wither.
Once vibrant, its leaves had turned a sickly bronze. Some said it was the season. I knew better.
The earth had felt my blood. The Moon had marked the soil where my vow was made. Nature did not forget those kinds of promises.
I closed my eyes, trying to center myself, trying to call the fire within not to ignite, but to listen.
My breathing slowed.
And for a moment, the world grew quiet.
"Aurora."
I stiffened.
I hadn't heard anyone approach.
Kieran.
But his voice was different. Lower. Like something weighed on it.
I opened my eyes and turned. He stood behind me, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"I need to tell you something," he said.
"Is it about Lucian?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No. It's about you."
I stood slowly. "What is it?"
He hesitated.
And that made my heart tighten.
"I knew one of them," he said. "One of the vessels before you."
I froze. "What?"
"She was my cousin. Her name was Elira. She had the same dreams. The same delayed shift. The same fire you're starting to feel." His jaw clenched. "She didn't survive."
"What happened?"
"She trusted the wrong person," he said quietly. "She believed she could love and lead at the same time. But someone feared her too much. Said her light would draw shadows. So they made her choose bond or prophecy."
"And she chose love," I whispered.
"Yes." He looked away. "Lucian's father ordered her execution. My father helped carry it out."
The world spun.
"You never told me."
"I didn't want you to be afraid."
"I am afraid."
"I didn't want you to think you were alone," he added, stepping closer. "But you're not. Not anymore."
For the first time in days, I let myself look at him—really look. His face was strong, but tired. He carried the weight of memory, loyalty, and something unspoken.
"You're scared I'll end up like her," I said.
"I'm scared you'll let someone make you choose."
I nodded slowly.
"I won't," I said.
But we both knew it wasn't a promise I could keep.
That night, something woke me.
A scratching.
Faint. Repetitive. Just outside my window.
I slipped out of bed, heart pounding, and peeked through the curtain.
At first, I saw nothing.
Then movement.
A shadow pulled away from the tree line. Cloaked. Hooded. Familiar.
The same figure I saw during the storm.
This time, it didn't disappear.
It walked.
Toward the old crypt.
I hesitated only a second before throwing on my cloak and following it, silent as I could.
The crypt was ancient. Locked for decades. Even Lucian never went near it.
But the figure pushed the stone door open effortlessly and stepped inside.
I waited two beats.
Then followed.
The air was cold. Dusty. Heavy with magic and memories.
And then, I saw him.
He pulled back his hood.
And I gasped.
"Father?"
The man turned.
He was older than I remembered. His face lined, hair streaked with gray. But it was him.
My father.
Dead to the pack for over ten years. Exiled. Forgotten.
"Hello, little moon," he said softly.
"I, I don't understand," I whispered. "You died."
"No," he said. "I escaped."
My breath caught.
He stepped forward.
"You were always meant to awaken," he said. "The Moon marked you before birth. That's why Lucian rejected you. He felt your power before you did."
"Why didn't you come back?" I asked, tears in my throat.
"I couldn't. If they knew you were my daughter, they would've killed you as a pup. The Elders fear my bloodline. Fear what I carry."
"What do you carry?"
He lifted his hand.
It shimmered with silver fire.
I stumbled back.
"You're…"
"Not just a wolf," he said. "Not just a man. I was the first failed vessel. I survived what no one else could."
I stared.
He knelt.
"You, Aurora, are the end and beginning of our kind. The prophecy is not about destruction. It's about rebirth. But only if you survive the next phase."
"What phase?"
He looked up, eyes glowing.
"When the Moon turns red… and the blood bond is broken."
"Lucian?"
He nodded. "He's being pulled between the truth and the throne. If he chooses wrong, your lives will be tied by fire. And one of you will not survive it."
My knees buckled.
My father caught me, held me, just for a moment.
Then he pulled away.
"You have three nights," he whispered. "When the eclipse comes, so does the final trial. Prepare. And do not trust the ones who claim to love you."
"Why not?"
He turned toward the shadows.
"Because even love can be cursed."