The Moonkeep was not meant for dreams. It was carved into the heart of the mountain, its walls ancient, its air heavy with secrets older than the world Rosa had once known. When she woke, it took her a moment to realize she was still alive.
The last thing she remembered was the forest splitting apart under her light, Marshal's voice calling her name, and the cold whisper in her head that claimed her as its own.
Now, she lay on a bed of furs beneath a vaulted ceiling painted with moons, wolves, and symbols that pulsed faintly when she looked too long. The stone walls shimmered with faint veins of silver, as if the mountain itself breathed with her. Every surface, every sound, felt alive.
Her throat hurt when she spoke. "Where am I?"
A voice came from the shadows. "Safe, for now." Marshal's voice.
He stepped into the candlelight, his presence grounding her instantly. His shirt was torn, blood streaking his jaw, but his gaze was steady. He looked like a man who had fought death and refused to yield.
"You collapsed after the surge," he said, moving closer. "We brought you here before the enemy could track your energy. Moonkeep is protected by wards older than our bloodlines."
Rosa slowly sat up, her body still trembling from exhaustion. "You make it sound like I'm some sort of weapon they can trace."
His expression darkened. "You are more than that, Rosa. And that is what makes you dangerous."
Her gaze drifted to the murals on the walls—wolves crowned in silver, a woman with glowing veins standing over a sea of shadow. "These images," she murmured, "they look like me."
Marshal followed her gaze. "They are your ancestors. The Moonblood line. Each bearer carried the mark of the Goddess, and with it, the power to shape the balance between light and shadow.
She turned to him, confusion threading through her fear. "Then who was the man who attacked us? The one with crimson eyes?"
Marshal hesitated, the silence stretching long enough for her heart to pound. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost reverent.
"His name is Amon Blackwell," he said. "The Shadow King."
The name tasted wrong in the air, too heavy, too ancient.
Marshal continued, pacing slowly before the mural. "He was once one of us—a wolf of royal blood who sought to merge the realms of light and shadow.
When the Moonblood bearer of his time refused him, he tried to claim her power by force. It nearly destroyed the world. The Moonblood sealed him away in the Veil, where no life or death could touch him."
Rosa felt the chill slide down her spine. "And now he's free."
Marshal nodded grimly. "Your awakening called to him. The seal that held him has weakened. He wants your blood to finish what he began. If he succeeds, he will open the Shadow Realm and enslave every living wolf to his will.
Her hands tightened upon the fur blanket. "So, I am either his key or his prison."
He regarded her with something that wasn't quite pity, wasn't quite awe. "You are the balance itself."
Rosa rose unsteadily, her pulse thundering. "Then tell me, Marshal-what am I supposed to do with that? How do I live knowing I could destroy everything I touch?"
Marshal's eyes softened. He crossed the room, his movements slow, deliberate, as if approaching something sacred. "You live," he said quietly. "You learn to control it. You let me help you."
She searched his face for truth. "Why you?"
"For I am bound to you, by fate or by choice. And it grieves me to think I'd lose you."
The words hung between them, heavy and unshielded. Rosa's breath caught. "You sound like this is more than duty."
He gave a faint smile, but it was a wounded one. "Duty doesn't make your heartbeat stutter every time someone says your name."
Her pulse quickened. "Marshal…
He stepped closer until his shadow merged with hers. "I fear losing you more than I fear this war. That is the truth I can no longer hide."
For a moment, the world outside their small chamber disappeared. Rosa felt the warmth of his hand brush her cheek, a fleeting, trembling touch that spoke of restraint stretched to its limit.
Every instinct screamed that this bond was dangerous, that it could undo everything they fought for—but her body leaned into it anyway.
"Do you think I'm a burden?" she whispered.
Slowly, he shook his head. "You were the choice I never saw coming."
The words shattered something inside of her. Tears burned behind her eyes, but before she could speak, a flicker of movement drew her attention to the wall.
The silver veins pulsed brighter. Shadows rippled across the mural, and the painted figure of the Shadow King seemed to move.
Rosa froze. "Marshal… the wall."
He turned sharply into her, his senses heightened. "What did you see?"
Before she could answer, the candles dimmed. A cold wind swept through the chamber, though the windows were sealed. Rosa's vision blurred, and she stumbled, gripping Marshal's arm.
"Something's here," she whispered.
The air thickened. A soft, magnetic voice slid through the silence.
You seek truth, little Moonblood. Let me show you what he conceals.
The world shifted, and in that quick blink of an eye, she was no longer in the Moonkeep.
Rosa stood inside a huge hall of glass and shadow. And in the middle of it, there was a man whose eyes were the colour of blood, with a smile that could unmake reason. Amon Blackwell.
He extended a hand toward her. "You know what they took from you, Rosa?
She stepped backward. "You're not real. This is a dream."
"Is it?" His voice was silk wrapped around steel. "Your Alpha hides the truth. The power you wield was not born of the Moon. It was stolen from me. Your blood remembers me even if your mind does not."
Lies, she told herself, but her heart betrayed her, skipping at the sound of his voice. He was wrong-he had to be-but part of her wanted to hear more.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded.
His smile deepened. "Freedom. And you."
The world fractured, like glass.
She woke screaming, her body arching from the bed. The murals glowed bright silver, and cracks raced across the stone walls like lightning veins. Marshal burst into the room, eyes blazing, sword in hand.
"Rosa!"
Her veins shimmered beneath her skin, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. "He was here," she gasped. "Amon was here."
The chamber shuddered, dust falling from the ceiling. Moonkeep groaned as though something ancient beneath it stirred. Marshal's arms closed around her, his breathing hot against her ear.
"Look at me, Rosa. Stay with me."
Her eyes met his glowing faintly silver. "He said the power wasn't mine. He said it was his."
Marshal's face hardened. "Then we will make him regret every word he spoke."
The mountain boomed. The walls split wider.
Rosa clung to him, her voice shaking. "Marshal, what if he's right?"
He tightened his hold. "Then I'll fight the gods themselves to prove him wrong." But beneath his certainty, Rosa felt it-the faint, dreadful truth pulsing in her blood.
What if the Shadow King wasn't lying? And what if her destiny had already decided which side she was to destroy?