Ciara's Pov:
The mark on my palm still pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat I didn't recognize as mine.
I sat in a cold stone chamber, wrists bound by silver-threaded cuffs, the taste of iron sharp on my tongue. Torches lined the walls, but they gave no warmth—just shadows. They didn't believe in comfort for those they feared.
Across from me, the high priest paced, his boots clicking in slow rhythm.
"You felt nothing during the Trial," he said, not asking. "No shift. No wolf."
I didn't answer. I wouldn't give them anything.
"But you dreamed of him," he continued, voice softening like a knife's edge dulled only for the kill. "The man with crimson red eyes. The one who speaks in riddles. You saw him before the mark appeared."
My breath hitched.
He smiled slightly. "You may not understand yet. But dreams like those… They are not dreams. They are echoes. Warnings. Or invitations."
He turned to the others seated in shadow behind him—the priests and priestesses
"She's more than just Moonborn," he said. "She's a tether."
A tether. To what?
To whom?
My hands clenched in my lap. That word—it felt like the truth, but I didn't know why.
I don't understand what's going on. What are they talking about? My aunt is not here now to explain what's going on.
I need to talk to her
"Pls i want to talk to my aunt"
I pleaded with them unsure if they would allow me to see her
"Let her see Liora once because after this she would be locked away"
"Let them say their final goodbyes to each other"
They let me see her, once.
Aunt Liora sat hunched in a stone alcove, her graying hair undone, her eyes brighter than ever.
"I should've told you," she whispered. "Should've prepared you. But I thought if I kept you small—quiet—maybe the prophecy would skip you."
"What prophecy?" I rasped.
She looked up at me, and I saw fear—and guilt.
"The Moonborn were never just wolves," she said. "We were chosen long ago by the chained god. The true heir to the Moon. Before the High Temple rewrote the histories. Before they erased his name."
My pulse thundered. "Lucian."
She nodded slowly.
"They feared him so much they locked him away and hunted his bloodline. They thought they succeeded. But you… You're the sign they failed.
Before I could speak, heavy boots slammed against the corridor floor. Two guards entered the chamber with grim expressions.
"The verdict has been passed," one said. "She must stand before the Alpha."
"No—give her more time!" Aunt Liora protested, rising unsteadily.
One guard shoved her back down. The other grabbed me by the arm.
"It's time, girl."
I looked back once as they dragged me toward the door. Liora's eyes locked with mine.
"Whatever they say… whatever they do—don't let them make you doubt what you are," she called out hoarsely. "You were born for more than obedience."
And then the door shut between us.
They didn't shout. They didn't need to.
The Alpha spoke in a cold, controlled tone. His court debate wasn't about the truth. It was about control.
"Too dangerous to release."
"Too obvious to kill."
"She could incite unrest."
"She could be the unrest."
"She's not just Moonborn," the lead inquisitor said at last, eyes on me like a predator who'd already decided how I'd die. "She's a tether."
A tether. That word again.
Something sharp twisted in my chest. I felt more exposed than ever, standing there in tattered clothes, my hair still damp with sweat and earth. They saw me as a problem, not a person.
"Then use her," someone murmured. "Let her draw out the others. Let them come for her."
"Or break her," another said flatly. "Seal the mark. Burn it out. Rewrite her body with the chains of obedience."
A beat of silence followed—thick, suffocating.
Only one face in the room hesitated.
A younger priestess, unfamiliar, her features soft with a flicker of sympathy. She looked at me—just once—then quickly lowered her gaze.
The verdict was spoken in the old tongue, final and ceremonial.
"Until her nature is understood, the marked girl will be detained under Temple custody. Her movements were restricted. Her power is sealed."
A golden collar was brought forth—etched with runes, its interior lined with dull obsidian glass. I knew what it was.
A binding collar.
They intended to chain me—magically and physically—until they could decide what I was worth.
They took me to a solitary room, windowless, damp, and humming with the faint static of warding magic. The collar hadn't been placed yet—but it waited on a table nearby like a serpent coiled and ready.
I sat on the edge of a stone cot, hands shaking, jaw clenched so tightly I could barely breathe.
They were going to erase me.
Not kill me. Not yet.
Something worse.
They would contain me. Cage what I didn't even understand inside myself.
I stared down at my palm where the mark had briefly flared during the Trial. Now it was invisible again. Gone, but not.
The words from my dream looped in my mind like a song half-remembered.
"You were meant to be hidden…"
Why? Why hide me? Why wait until now to stir something I never asked for?
I thought about Aunt Liora—how she looked at me like I was a burning match in a field of dry grass. I thought about the crowd's eyes as I failed to shift.
I was alone.
And then—moonlight.
From a sliver crack near the ceiling, a beam of pale light filtered into the room, falling right onto my hands. The room shimmered—just slightly—and the world tilted.
Sleep stole me fast, dragging me under like deep water.
That night, moonlight spilled through the narrow window, cold and pale as bone. It traced a silver line across the stone floor, across my skin.
My breath slowed.
Sleep dragged me under like an undertow—swift, silent, merciless.
But this wasn't the same dream.
It was clearer now.
He stood beneath a sky cracked with stars and burning ash, shackled by chains that shimmered like liquid moonlight and shadow. His hair floated around him, dark as midnight and weightless, as though gravity dared not touch him.
His voice, when it came, wasn't sound—it was felt. A vibration beneath my ribs. A pull in my bloo
His eyes locked onto mine. No dream haze. No illusion. Real. Ancient. Burning.
The ground beneath us cracked. Silver roots spiraled beneath his feet, reaching toward me.
I stepped forward. I reached for him.
The chains around his wrists tightened with a violent jerk—and then—
A knock. Light. Soft.
I woke up.
The door creaked open, and the same young woman from the council chamber stepped inside.
She didn't speak. Just knelt beside me and pressed something cold into my hand.
A rune-stone, etched with an ancient crescent and bound in a band of woven moonhair.
Before I could ask, she was gone.
I waited until the tower bells rang at midnight.
The rune burned warm in my palm. I pressed it to the wall below the window.
Nothing.
Then—I saw it.
A shimmer, faint and silvery, outlining the edge of a stone tile. A door hidden in the floor.
I pried it open with shaking fingers. A dark tunnel lay beneath, carved in old magic. My heartbeat thundered.
I didn't look back.
Not until I dropped into the tunnel and the stone closed above me, sealing the light away.
The tunnel twisted like a serpent, narrow and damp, roots breaking through the walls. I ran, barefoot and breathless, as the sound of alarm bells echoed behind me.
Someone had found the empty cell.
They were coming.