The glade's serenity shattered as the first howls of the pack echoed through Scorchvale Ridge, triumphant and raw. The stag had fallen; the Moon rite was complete. But for Ember, the night was a tangle of fear and regret. She shifted back to her human form, the grace of her serval soul lingering in her limbs like a fading echo. Her skin prickled with the chill of the air, and her chest heaved with ragged breaths. Kadyn had seen. That flicker, that momentary betrayal of her body—how could she explain it away? A trick of the moonlight? A stumble in the shift?
She couldn't stay hidden forever. The pack would notice her absence, and questions would follow like shadows. With a deep breath, Ember slipped from the branch, her feet finding the soft earth. She wove through the underbrush, avoiding the main paths where the others might linger, their wolf forms still buzzing with the thrill of the hunt. The den loomed ahead, a cluster of root-carved hollows glowing faintly with firelight from within. Smoke curled from the vents, carrying the scent of roasted meat and herbs, a celebration for the successful rite.
Ember paused at the entrance to her family's den, her hand pressing against the rough bark. Inside, she could hear the low rumble of her father's voice, murmuring to himself as he tended the fire. Tobias was alone tonight, as he often was since Seina's passing. No siblings for Ember; she was the only child, a solitary star in their small sky. Gathering her courage, she ducked inside, the warmth enveloping her like a reluctant embrace.
The den was modest, its walls lined with woven mats and shelves of dried herbs, remnants of her mother's healing work. A small fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting flickering shadows across Tobias's scarred face. He sat on a fur-piled bench, sharpening his bone knife with deliberate strokes, his broad shoulders hunched. At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up, his dark eyes narrowing. "Ember," he said, his voice a gravelly whisper. "You're back late. The hunt… it went well?"
She nodded, avoiding his gaze as she sank onto the mat opposite him. Her hands trembled slightly, and she clasped them in her lap to hide it. The pendant hung heavy against her chest, its crescent moon shape pressing into her skin like a reminder. "The stag fell," she murmured, forcing the words out. "Kadyn and the others… they did well."
Tobias set the knife aside, his movements slow and measured. He studied her, his expression unreadable in the firelight. "But not you," he said softly. It wasn't a question. "What happened out there, girl?"
Ember's throat tightened. She wanted to lie, to brush it off as exhaustion or a minor slip, but the weight of the night pressed down on her. "I… I stumbled," she admitted, her voice cracking. "The wolf held, but… something else almost broke through. Kadyn saw something. A flash. He asked what it was." Tears stung her eyes, hot and unwelcome. "Father, what if he tells? Grimhowl will—"
Tobias rose swiftly, crossing the small space to kneel before her. His large hands gripped her shoulders, firm but gentle. "Hush now," he said, his tone laced with urgency. "We'll handle it. Kadyn's a good lad; he's your friend. But we can't risk it anymore." He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the pendant peeking from her tunic. With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years, he reached out and lifted it gently, the carved wood catching the fire's glow.
"This," he said, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper, "wasn't just a keepsake from your mother. She made it for you, Ember. Before you were born, she sensed the dual souls stirring in her womb—wolf and cat, a bridge between worlds. The Old Spirits whispered to her in dreams, hinting at gifts beyond the beast-souls, powers yet to unfold. But she knew the pack would never accept it. So she crafted this pendant from the heartwood of the Great Oak, infused with her herbs and a spell from the ancient rites."
Ember stared at the pendant, her fingers brushing its surface. She'd worn it every day since Seina's death, thinking it a simple memento, a piece of her mother's love. But now, in Tobias's hands, it seemed to hum with hidden power. "What does it do?" she asked, her heart pounding.
Tobias's grip tightened slightly. "It can suppress the other side," he explained, his words heavy with regret. "Your mother gave it to me on her deathbed, made me promise to keep it safe until you needed it most. 'Only when the shadows close in,' she said. Wearing it as you do now helps keep that side dormant, but to fully bind it… You must invoke the rite. Speak the words: 'Moon cradle star, bind the wild heart.' But know this, Ember it comes at a cost. That side is part of you. Binding it might save you from the pack, but it could dim your spirit, make you… less."
Ember clutched the pendant, feeling a faint warmth spread through her hand. Suppress it? That side was her freedom, her secret thrill in the treetops, the part of her that danced unseen. She'd controlled it so far, forcing it down with willpower, keeping the wolf dominant. The pendant was a safeguard, a last resort if her control faltered. "I can keep it at bay," she whispered, more to herself than Tobias. "I've done it before. I don't need the rite not yet."
Tobias's face crumpled, lines etching deeper in the firelight. "I wanted you to be whole," he admitted, his voice breaking. "Your mother did too. She believed you'd find a way to balance both souls, to wield whatever gifts the Spirits granted. But after she was gone… I couldn't lose you too. The Flame Fang are set in their traditions, girl. Grimhowl's father cast out a dual-shifter once a bear and wolf mix. They hunted him down like prey." He pulled her into a rough embrace, his arms strong around her shaking form. "Keep it close, but be careful. Your control is strong, but the pack's eyes are sharper."
They sat like that for a long moment, the fire popping softly, the distant howls of the pack a reminder of the world outside. Ember's mind raced, Kadyn's questioning eyes, the thrill of her serval soul's leap, the safety of the wolf's pack. The pendant burned in her fist, a choice unmade, its power a shield she wasn't ready to wield. But as the night deepened, a soft knock echoed at the den's entrance. Kadyn's voice filtered through, tentative and urgent. "Em? Tobias? We need to talk."
Ember froze, her father's arms tightening protectively. The shadows were closing in, and the pendant's whisper grew louder.