Chapter 51. The Last Red Moon

It loomed above the treetops like an accusation—an immense, blood-red eye staring down without mercy. It was more than a moon. More than pale light slipping through leaves. It was a memory ripped from the marrow of the world and thrown into the sky as though the gods had unearthed the past and hurled it back at creation. Too vast. Too violently crimson. And unnervingly still.

The wolves sensed it first. Their pelts bristled under the scarlet glow. Midway through a cautious prowl, they froze, nostrils flaring, breaths turning to steam. No howl escaped them. No growl. Only reverent silence, as if they recognized an ancient debt being called in.

Aeryn stood on the craggy ridge above Thornroot, alone against the forest’s restless exhale. The pines behind her sighed in a restless breeze; moss and fungi quivered under the moon’s harsh glare. She did not turn. Her bare feet pressed into cold stone. Beneath the heavy fall of her dark braid, the sigil on her back flickered faintl