The following morning brought rain. The sky hung heavy and gray, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and something electric—like the forest was holding its breath.
Aria hadn't slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that wave of silver-blue energy exploding from her skin. Felt it. Heard her wolf—faint, distant, but no longer silent.
Something had shifted.
She was no longer empty.
Dorian arrived early, his smile too perfect, his arms filled with a dark traveling cloak and a leather satchel.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Clothes. Essentials," he said, placing them on her bed like they belonged there. "I think it's time we leave the valley for a while. You need space to grow into what you are. To be safe."
Aria's brows drew together. "I'm safe here."
"Not if rogues are breaching the borders. Not with the entire region buzzing about what happened in the clearing. You've become… noticed."
He stepped closer, cupping her cheek. "I can protect you better in my territory. No pressure from your parents. No whispers from others. Just us."
It sounded sweet.
It felt wrong.
Her parents didn't even pretend to agree.
"You're not leaving with him," her father said, voice firm as iron. "Not now. Not like this."
"We haven't even had time to understand what's happening to you," her mother added gently. "And this—this is sacred, Aria. Your power… your mark… it's a sign."
"A sign of what?" Aria asked.
They glanced at each other, then at the elder standing silently by the hearth.
Elder Wren had served their pack since before Aria was born. Quiet, distant, but always present during moon rites and naming ceremonies. She'd asked to speak to Aria privately.
Now, she stepped forward, her eyes sharp and ancient.
"I've seen your mark before," she said. "Once. Long ago. On a woman who could call moonlight with a breath. Who healed with her hands and commanded even Alpha wolves without a single word."
Aria's throat tightened. "What happened to her?"
"She was hunted. Feared. And in the end, sacrificed to keep the balance."
The words hit her like ice water.
"But she was a Sacred Luna," Wren said, voice softening. "And I believe you are too."
That night, Aria lay in bed, the necklace Dorian had given her resting on the table beside her. She couldn't bring herself to wear it.
Her wolf stirred again, stronger this time. Still faint—but there.
A single word echoed inside her mind. Not in her own voice.
Run.
And miles away, in the blackened grove beneath the witch's tree, a glowing rune cracked down the center.
The magic binding Aria was weakening.
Selene was watching.
And so was something else.