Arabelle woke to the sting of cold stone beneath her and the dull throb of pain blooming in her chest. Her limbs were heavy, her vision blurred, but her senses were on fire.
The hum of murmurs surrounded her, a web of sharp words and rustling boots. As her vision cleared, she blinked up into a blur of torches, stone walls, and… eyes. Golden eyes. Furious, confused, locked on her with a burning intensity.
Kael.
Her breath hitched. She tried to sit up but found her wrists shackled, tight silver restraints biting into her skin. Her heart pounded in panic.
"What… what's happening?" she gasped, her voice raw.
A gruff voice snapped back. "Silence, human."
Two towering warriors in black leather armor yanked her to her feet. Arabelle stumbled, dizzy, but managed to find her footing. The glowing crescent still shimmered faintly on her palm, and the moment she looked at it, her knees buckled.
That same mark now flared on Kael's throat—partially hidden by the collar of his cloak but impossible to miss. She watched as his jaw clenched, his eyes stormy with rage.
"This is a trick," Kael snarled to the gathering wolves. "It has to be."
The murmurs swelled again—half confusion, half fear. The mark of the Luna… appearing on a human? It was unheard of.
"Take her to the holding chamber," Kael ordered, voice low but sharp as steel.
"No!" Arabelle yanked against the guards, her voice cracking. "I didn't do anything—I didn't mean—please!"
But her protests were drowned beneath the weight of pack law.
The stone chamber she was thrown into was windowless and frigid. One bare cot, one dim torch, and nothing else but the steady pounding of her heart.
She hadn't been alone long when a knock echoed against the metal door. It scraped open, revealing a silver-haired elder, flanked by two guards.
"Arabelle," he spoke her name like a verdict. "You're being investigated under suspicion of using forbidden magic to mimic the Luna's mark."
She blinked. "I didn't use any magic. I didn't even know your kind existed!"
The elder's brows furrowed as he stepped inside. "You are human," he said, voice neutral but edged with something else—curiosity, maybe even dread. "The Moon Goddess has never marked a human. Not once in our history."
Arabelle stood, trembling. "I didn't ask for this. I was just… in the forest. And then he came at me, and I scratched him—"
"Enough." One of the guards stepped forward, eyes hard. "The Alpha doesn't believe in coincidences."
The elder motioned for silence. "Leave us."
Once the guards were gone, his demeanor softened slightly. "You need to understand something, girl. That mark isn't just a tattoo. It's a binding—a sacred seal placed only by divine will. You're at the heart of something much larger than yourself."
"But… I'm no one," Arabelle whispered. "I don't even have a wolf."
The elder didn't answer. He studied her with a look that sent chills down her spine. "The Goddess rarely makes mistakes. But the Alpha—he believes this is one."
Kael paced his study like a caged predator, golden eyes darting to the reflection in the mirror. There it was—still. That cursed crescent glowing faintly on his neck, pulsing like a second heartbeat.
He gritted his teeth, raking a hand through his black hair. "This can't be real."
Behind him, Beta Riven stood silent, arms crossed, watching his Alpha spiral.
"She's human, Riven," Kael growled. "A fragile, clueless girl with no bloodline, no wolf—nothing. And now the Goddess dares brand her my Luna?"
"It's not your choice, Kael. The bond doesn't care what you want."
"I won't accept her."
Kael turned back to the mirror, trying in vain to will the mark away. But it glowed stronger the more he denied it.
His wolf snarled inside him, restless and defiant. It didn't care about laws or bloodlines—it only knew that it had been bound. It only wanted her.
"I'll call for the council," Kael muttered. "We'll confirm this is a false mark, some magical interference. Maybe even a rogue witch's curse."
"You saw the light yourself," Riven said quietly. "We all did. That was the Moon's doing."
Kael slammed his fist into the desk. "Then the Moon made a mistake."
Hours passed. Maybe longer. Time blurred inside Arabelle's stone prison.
The mark on her palm refused to fade. She rubbed at it, even tried scratching it off until her skin bled—but it remained, pulsing with an inner light. A reminder. A curse.
She curled up on the cot, head against the cold wall, eyes damp.
Everything was gone. Her life in the village. Her future. Her choices.
Now she was marked—claimed—by a creature who loathed her. By a pack that saw her as a threat. By a bond she didn't understand.
"I didn't ask for any of this," she whispered into the dark.
No answer came.
But somewhere deep in her chest, a new feeling began to form. Small. Unsteady. Not hope—but defiance.
If this bond wouldn't break, then maybe she wouldn't either
The next morning, the cell doors creaked open again.
Two guards flanked her, less rough this time, but still cold.
"You're being taken before the Alpha," one of them said.
Her heart jolted. She tried to appear braver than she felt as she followed them through the torch-lit halls.
They emerged into a circular stone chamber—half-council room, half trial arena. Elders lined one side. Warriors the other. And at the center stood Kael, his towering form wrapped in dark robes, his expression unreadable.
He didn't look at her. Not once.
"Bring her forward," he ordered.
Arabelle stood tall as she could, despite the trembling in her legs.
Kael finally met her eyes.
"This is not a bond," he said, voice like ice. "This is a mistake. A flaw in fate. You are human. You do not belong here."
The words stung worse than the shackles.
"I didn't ask to belong," she shot back. "I didn't even know what you were."
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
Kael stepped forward. "Then you will be removed. The council will decide the means."
"Alpha Kael," one of the elders spoke, hesitant. "The mark cannot be ignored. If the Moon has chosen—"
"She didn't," Kael snapped. "She couldn't have."
But even as he denied it, his wolf roared in protest. His hand drifted to his throat.
The mark flared brighter.
Arabelle saw
the flicker in his eyes then—fear.
Not of her.
But of himself.