Luna of Forgotten Blood

Rain screamed against the roof like a warning. It hadn’t let up in hours, not since the thunder began to crawl over the mountains like a beast with iron claws. The fire in the hearth crackled weakly in the dim light, casting shadows that danced across the walls of the cottage like spirits with nowhere left to haunt.

I lay on a narrow cot, drenched in sweat, but cold.

The name they gave me wasn’t mine.

Brin, the rogue healer, called me “Child,” as if my name had been lost in the woods with whatever part of me broke before she found me. I woke a week ago with cracked ribs, a fever that nearly took me, and a strange silver burn just over my collarbone. A brand, almost. A symbol that pulsed faintly under moonlight.

They said I had no memory. That my mind was gone.

But that was a lie.

The dreams hadn’t stopped. Visions, pieces—a shattered mirror reflecting blood, fur, flame.

And a voice.

“You are mine.”

I hear it every time I close my eyes.

Brin doesn’t ask what I see. She’s seen the way my body jerks in sleep, the way I wake up gasping. She leaves me alone and brews her potions, muttering prayers to the old gods. She says I was cursed. Touched by something unnatural.

I think I was chosen.

***

Tonight feels different. The air is thick, too still. Even the birds have gone silent beyond the walls.

Brin straightens from her work, her crooked spine popping with the motion. “Storm’s shifting. Something’s coming”

I cross to the door to set the bolt. Rain has slipped under, pooling black on the threshold. In the thin wash of firelight I see it: a single pawprint pressed into the mud outside. Not dark—bright. Silver, as if the moon had stepped there and refused to be smeared.

I watch the rain hammer it. It doesn’t blur.

“Brin,” I whisper. “Do wolves leave marks like that?”

Her mouth thins. “Foxes run these woods.”

“That is no fox.”

“Close the door, Child.” She doesn’t look at the threshold again.

I shut it so hard the bolt rattled. Brin gave me the kind of look that says she’d seen worse… but was still mildly offended by my technique.

The wind shifts. I sit up, clutching the threadbare blanket around my shoulders. Something pulses in my chest. A scent on the wind. Pine. Smoke. Steel.

And then—

The howl.

Long, low, mournful.

Another follows. Closer.

Brin’s spoon clatters to the floor.

“They’ve found you,” she whispers.

The door shudders on its hinges.

I rise, slowly. My legs are shaky, but something ancient in my blood steadies me. I feel it under my skin—the stir of something, sleeping too long.

My fingers brush the brand. A slow heat blooms there, enough to steady my legs.

The door explodes inward.

Three wolves in human form spill into the cottage, soaked and snarling. Black leather, silver blades at their belts. Their eyes glow faint yellow in the dark—not from rage.

Recognition.

Only elite wolves from the ruling courts carried that kind of power in their gaze. Packs didn’t bow unless they were trained to obey.

One of them drops to a knee.

“Lady Thessia.”

Brin gasps.

I blink.

Lady?

The tallest of the men steps forward. Rain rolls off his shoulders. He doesn’t kneel. His eyes are gray, cold as stone and storm.

“You are coming with us.”

“Who are you?” I ask, though my heart already knows.

He doesn’t answer.

But his wolf does.

In my chest, something shifts. A whisper. *Mine.*

The guards flank me. I don’t resist. My feet move without command. Brin doesn’t speak as I pass her, but her hand finds mine for the briefest second. There’s fear in her touch.

Outside, the forest is dark. The sky weeps. They don’t offer a cloak.

We ride for hours. I don’t speak, and they don’t speak to me. But they watch me, all three. Not as if I’m a prisoner. Not quite. More like...

A relic.

Or a weapon.

We reach the gates by dawn. The capital. I know it without knowing it—the towering blackstone walls, the looming silver insignia of the Shadowfang crest.

Shadowfang—the iron spine of the east.

The guards react, but I wave them off. “I’m fine.”

A lie. The brand pinched tight under the bone— the brand didn’t flare from fear; it flared when a lie brushed the bond.

The pain was a memory. A flash of teeth. A hand around my throat. A voice that said, “You belong to me.”

***

They lead me into the fortress through a side gate. Servants part like I carry plague. Nobles whisper behind silk-gloved hands. Some drop to their knees. Others stare like they’ve seen a ghost.

And maybe they have.

They take me to the throne room.

He stands at the far end.

Alpha Kael.

Tall. Sharply built. Armor stripped to black leather. His presence fills the room before he even speaks.

His eyes meet mine.

Silver gray. Like the blade of a sword.

Everything inside me goes still.

The guards fall to their knees. I remain standing.

His jaw tenses.

“Leave us.”

The others hesitate. He growls.

They leave.

Now it’s just him.

And me.

“You remember nothing?” he asks.

“I remember... dreams.”

“Do you know who you are?”

“No.”

He crosses the distance between us slowly. Deliberately. My body locks up.

He stops inches from me.

Then lifts a hand—hesitates—and brushes a finger against the brand at my collarbone.

It flares white-hot.

I cry out.

He jerks back as if burned.

“You should not be here,” he mutters.

“Why did you bring me?”

Kael doesn’t answer.

“What did you do to me?”

His eyes narrow.

“What I had to.”

Rage sparks in me. I shove him. “You erased me! You think you can just bring me back and pretend I never existed?”

He catches my wrists.

“You were supposed to die that night,” he growls. “I had no choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

He says nothing.

Then:

“Your memory... it will return. Soon. But it won’t be painless.”

“Good. I want to remember what you did.”

He lets go. Turns away.

“You need to be kept away from the others until the full moon.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t turn back.

“Because that’s when the bond completes itself.”

The brand on my chest burns again.

He leaves me standing in the center of the hall, alone.

But just before the doors close behind him, I hear him whisper:

“Forgive me, Thessia.”

Later, they take me to a tower room. Locked from the outside.

A prison with silk sheets.

I stare at the mirror. At the face I’ve never known. Pale skin, shadowed eyes. The silver mark glowing softly like a second heartbeat.

I hear the whisper again. The voice from my dreams.

You are mine.

But now there’s another voice. One I haven’t heard before.

Inside me.

It growls:

Not anymore.

The first crack doesn’t come from the mirror. It comes from me.