The first howl came before dawn.
It was long and low, carrying through the mist-cloaked forest that bordered the Black Moon pack's territory. It wasn't one of theirs—Aria knew that instantly. There was something different in the tone. It wasn't a call for kin. It was a warning.
By the time the sun lifted over the ridge, patrols had doubled. Warriors moved through the woods in silence, scenting the air, ears twitching for danger. The pack had grown restless since the Trial. Whispers spread faster than wildfire—the girl who glowed like the moon, the Alpha who defied the Council, the omen of blood and silver.
Inside the Alpha Hall, the tension was palpable.
Aria stood near the window, watching the forest shift beneath the morning light. The trees looked calm, but she could feel it—something was watching. The pulse of the earth trembled faintly beneath her feet.
"They're not going to let this go," Damian said behind her. His tone was quiet, almost too calm, which only made her chest tighten.
She turned. "The Council?"
He shook his head. "No. The others. The old packs that once served under the Silver Fang. They've been waiting for a sign. You're it."
Aria's stomach turned cold. "So it's true, then? The Moon-Blessed were real… and they were destroyed."
"Not destroyed," Damian said. He stepped closer, his voice low. "Hunted. The power you hold was never meant for peace. It's divine—unpredictable. It doesn't obey laws or bloodlines. And that makes it dangerous."
Aria met his gaze. "You think I'm dangerous?"
Damian didn't answer immediately. The silence said enough.
"Maybe," he admitted. "But danger isn't always the enemy."
For a long moment, the only sound was the wind outside. Then, a knock echoed at the door.
"Alpha," a guard said, breathless. "We found something by the north ridge. You need to see this."
---
The forest beyond the pack's border was silent in the way that makes the skin crawl. Birds had stopped singing, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Aria followed Damian and two warriors to a clearing, the air thick with the copper tang of blood.
There, carved into the dirt, was a symbol—a crescent moon split down the middle by a jagged line. Beneath it, the body of a wolf lay still, eyes open, throat torn clean through.
One of their scouts.
Damian's jaw clenched as he crouched beside the body. The scent was unmistakable. "Not rogues," he said darkly. "Too clean. Too deliberate."
Aria knelt beside him, tracing the symbol with her fingers. The moment her skin brushed the blood, a whisper cut through her mind—distant, ancient, echoing.
The Moon remembers.
She gasped and pulled back, the voice vanishing as quickly as it came.
Damian caught her arm. "What did you see?"
She hesitated. "Not see. Hear. It's like… something calling. From the other side of the veil."
He looked at her as though weighing whether to believe her. "The other side?"
"The Moon's realm," she said softly. "The place where our wolves are born."
For a moment, even Damian seemed shaken.
Then his gaze hardened. "We'll burn this symbol. Send the body home with honor. I want every patrol doubled, every border watched."
Aria opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a look. "If they're testing us, I want them to know we're ready."
She nodded, though unease still clawed at her chest. The air here didn't just feel heavy—it felt alive. Watching. Waiting.
As they turned to leave, she caught one last flicker of movement from the corner of her eye—a shadow slipping between trees, too swift to be human.
---
That night, Aria couldn't sleep.
The Moon hung half-hidden behind clouds, silver light spilling through her window like spilled ink. Her wolf paced beneath her skin, restless, whispering warnings she didn't understand.
Then came the scent.
Faint, but familiar—woodsmoke, leather, and something older. Something that didn't belong.
She rose, pulling her cloak around her shoulders, and stepped out into the courtyard. The night was quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that made the heart beat faster.
"Aria."
The voice came from the shadows.
She froze. Then a figure stepped into the moonlight—tall, sharp-featured, eyes burning gold. Not one of theirs.
But not a stranger.
"Kieran," she breathed.
The last time she had seen him, he had been standing beside the Alpha of the Iron Fang, laughing as he drove a blade through her father's chest.
Now, he smiled. "You remember me."
Her wolf snarled, rage flaring like fire in her veins. "I should. You killed my pack."
"I did," he said easily. "And you survived. I suppose we both have the Moon to thank for that."
"Why are you here?"
"To warn you," he said, stepping closer. "The Council won't stop with whispers. They've already called the Conclave. Every pack with a claim to the old bloodlines is sending an emissary. They want you delivered—or dead."
Aria's eyes narrowed. "And you? You're just here out of kindness?"
Kieran's grin sharpened. "Kindness isn't in my nature. But opportunity is. You're standing at the edge of something far greater than this territory, little Moon-Blessed. I thought I'd offer you a choice before the others come knocking."
"What kind of choice?"
He stepped closer until she could feel the heat of him. "Join me. The old ways are coming back whether you want them to or not. Together, we could end the Council's rule and take what's ours."
Aria's wolf bristled. Kill him.
She clenched her fists. "You think I'd ever side with you?"
Kieran's gaze flicked to her throat, where the faint mark of her bond with Damian pulsed beneath her skin. He laughed softly. "I see. The Alpha's leash fits tight, doesn't it? Tell me, Aria—when your power grows beyond his, will he still call you his mate, or his threat?"
Her hand moved before her mind caught up. The dagger flashed. But he was faster.
Kieran caught her wrist mid-swing, eyes glinting with amusement. "There's the fire I remember." He leaned in, voice a whisper. "Remember this, little wolf—the Moon may have chosen you, but darkness always claims its own."
Then he was gone—fading into mist as though he had never been there.
Aria stood trembling, her dagger still raised, the scent of him lingering in the cold air.
---
When Damian found her moments later, she was still staring into the forest.
"What happened?" he demanded, scanning the tree line.
She swallowed hard. "He was here. Kieran."
Every muscle in Damian's body went rigid. "What did he want?"
"To warn me," she said. "And to offer me a place beside him."
Damian's growl was low, feral. "Over my dead body."
"He said the Council called the Conclave," Aria continued. "They're coming for me, Damian. All of them."
He turned to her then, his hand finding hers. The bond between them flared—warm, desperate, unyielding. "Then we'll face them. Together."
Aria met his gaze, the truth of his words sinking deep into her bones. For the first time, she realized that love between them would not be enough to survive what was coming.
The war had already begun.
And the Moon, silent above them, watched with unblinking eyes.
---