Dawn broke over the Black Moon clearing like the first breath after drowning.
The mist that had cloaked the trial grounds was gone, burned away by a sun that painted the horizon gold and crimson. The air still shimmered faintly with the residue of power, the kind that made wolves bow their heads and silence their breath.
And there—at the center of it all—stood Aria.
She was bloodied, bruised, her clothes torn and streaked with dirt, but she was standing. Her eyes, once the soft gray of storm clouds, now glowed faintly silver in the sunlight. The mark of the Moon-Blessed burned against her skin like a secret the world was not ready to hear.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Elder Roran's staff struck the earth. "The trial is complete," he announced, his voice raw. "By dawn's light, the Moon herself has chosen."
A low murmur rippled through the gathered wolves—shock, awe, fear. The sound spread like fire. Some bowed instinctively, recognizing the divine sign. Others stepped back, wary, their instincts warning them of something unnatural.
Aria's knees almost gave out, exhaustion crashing through her. The world swayed.
But before she could fall, Damian was there.
He crossed the clearing without hesitation, every eye watching as he caught her in his arms. His touch was careful, reverent, but beneath it his body trembled—not from weakness, but from everything he couldn't say aloud.
"Easy," he murmured, his voice low, rough with emotion. "You're safe now."
Aria's breath hitched. "It's over?"
He looked at her, eyes dark and unreadable. "It's only just begun."
---
When the crowd dispersed, the council gathered within the Alpha Hall—a structure carved from ancient stone, heavy with the weight of history. The air inside was thick, charged with tension.
Aria sat near the end of the long table, her wounds bandaged, her strength slowly returning. Damian stood beside her, though his silence spoke louder than any words.
Elder Roran was the first to break the quiet. "We all saw what she became," he said. "No ordinary wolf glows with the moon's fire. That power has not walked this earth since the fall of the Silver Fang."
Another elder, a woman with sharp eyes and gray-streaked hair, leaned forward. "The Moon-Blessed were a curse, Roran. They brought ruin to every pack they touched. Power like that cannot exist without consequence."
"She survived the trial," Damian said, his voice steady but cold. "That makes her worthy."
"Worthy?" the woman hissed. "Or dangerous? Look at her, Alpha. You know what she is now. The Moon Goddess does not grant gifts without purpose—and every purpose comes with a price."
Aria clenched her fists under the table. "You speak as if I chose this."
The elder turned her gaze on her. "Did you not? Power calls to blood. You accepted it, girl. You embraced it."
"I accepted it because it was that or die!" Aria snapped, the echo of her voice vibrating through the hall. The torches along the wall flickered, their flames bending toward her as if drawn by an unseen force. Gasps rose around the room.
Damian's hand came down on the table, firm, commanding. "Enough."
The room fell silent.
His eyes—storm-dark, dangerous—swept across the elders. "She is mine," he said quietly. "By blood and bond, by trial and fate. Question her, and you question me."
A heavy pause followed, thick with unspoken defiance.
Roran exhaled slowly. "No one questions your claim, Alpha. But understand this—if she is Moon-Blessed, her power will not stop growing. It may surpass yours. When it does, what then?"
Damian's jaw tightened. He didn't answer.
Aria looked down, her chest tightening. The silence that followed was worse than any accusation.
---
Later, when the council finally dispersed, the tension lingered like smoke.
Aria stepped outside into the courtyard, the air cool and sharp against her skin. The forest stretched beyond, quiet and watchful, as though it too waited for her next move.
She closed her eyes. The wolf within her stirred, restless, uneasy.
They fear us, it murmured.
"Maybe they should," she whispered back.
A low chuckle echoed in her mind. You're learning.
She was about to respond when a presence approached from behind—familiar, heavy with power.
"Talking to yourself again?"
She turned to find Damian standing a few paces away, shadows clinging to him like a cloak. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes held too much. Guilt, pride, longing, fear.
Aria forced a smile. "It's not talking to myself if she talks back."
"Your wolf?"
She nodded. "She has opinions."
"I can imagine."
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence between them stretched, filled with everything they had seen, everything that had nearly broken them.
Then Damian stepped closer. "You scared them," he said softly. "Even the elders."
Aria's gaze flicked up to his. "Do I scare you?"
The question hung between them, fragile and sharp.
Damian's lips parted, but no sound came. He searched her face, every line, every flicker of silver in her eyes, and his breath caught.
"Yes," he said finally. "Because I can't protect you from what comes next."
Aria's heart twisted. "You don't have to."
His eyes darkened. "You don't understand. Power like yours—it attracts attention. Not just from packs, but from those who've waited centuries for a chance to reclaim it."
"You mean Kieran."
"And others," he said. "There are still loyalties buried in the ashes of old packs. If they discover you live, they'll come."
Aria's jaw set. "Then let them."
Damian exhaled, a sound caught between frustration and admiration. "You don't make this easy."
"I wasn't made to be easy," she said softly.
He smiled, faint and tired, and for a fleeting second, the mask of Alpha slipped. There was just Damian—the man who had fought beside her, who had nearly lost her, who was now torn between claiming her and saving his world from her.
"Rest," he said finally, stepping back. "You'll need your strength."
"For what?"
He looked toward the horizon, where the sun was rising red. "For the war the Moon just started."
---
That night, as the pack slept uneasily, Aria stood at the edge of the forest. The moon was waning now, thin and pale, but its pull was still there—a whisper beneath her skin.
She closed her eyes, lifting her face to the night sky.
The wolf inside her stirred again, quiet but certain. They will come for us, Aria. The ones who remember what we are. But when they do... they'll learn the moon does not choose lightly.
Aria smiled faintly, her fingers brushing the dagger at her side. "Then let them learn."
The forest shivered around her, and somewhere deep within the shadows, something answered her call.
---