I was surrounded. The flames licked higher, searing my skin, yet I could not run. The wolves circled tighter, eyes gleaming with malice under the blood-red moon. "Traitor!" they howled, their voices crashing against me like waves against stone.
"I'm not " I tried to scream, but my throat betrayed me. No sound left my lips.
The fire rose, swallowing the forest in a single breath. Heat scorched me, blistering my skin and bone, and still I could not escape. My eyes darted desperately, searching for Kael, for anyone Maris, even. But no one came. Only laughter cut through the inferno, sharp and cruel, a voice I knew but could not name.
It echoed as the flames devoured me.
I bolted upright, gasping, gripping the sheets as they clinged to me like damp chains. Sweat drenched my skin, and for a moment I swore I could still feel the burn of fire crawling across my body. My chest heaved, lungs clawing for air, but it wasn't the remnants of smoke I felt it was dread.
Then I saw the bond mark.
A faint light shimmered against my wrist, a glow so soft I almost thought I imagined it. But it pulsed like a heartbeat that wasn't mine, flickering once, twice, before dimming into nothing. My breath froze in my throat.
The bond was sacred, immutable. Eternal. It bound mates together beyond distance, beyond time. For it to stir this way meant something was unraveling.
I pressed my palm over it, willing the glow to return. "Kael," I whispered. "Where are you?" No answer came. No warmth and the silence of his absence.
A chill sank into my bones, deeper than the coldest winter wind. The mark was not merely alive it was warning me.
And the word from my dream echoed, seared into me like the flames had been: Traitor.
I stumbled out of bed, legs trembling, and poured water from the jug on the nightstand, gulping it down as though it could drown the fire that still lingered inside me. My reflection in the mirror caught my eye pale skin, hair tangled, eyes wide with fear. I looked haunted, hunted.
"No," I whispered to myself, gripping the edge of the table. "You are Luna. You cannot shatter this way."
But even as I said it, I felt the crack running through me, widening with each throb of the bond mark.
The next morning, I carried myself with composure, but every whisper in the halls felt sharper, every glance heavier. The she-wolves smirked more boldly, the guards stood stiffer at their posts as though they doubted my authority.
I moved through the day with grace, yet my mind remained fixed on the dream. On the laughter. On the bond.
At midday, Maris entered my chambers without knocking, her face full of practiced concern. "You look dreadful," she said softly, closing the door behind her. "Did you sleep at all?"
I forced a smile. "Enough."
"Don't lie to me, Selene," she said, crossing the room and pressing her hand to mine. "I've known you too long. Something happened."
I hesitated. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to spill every detail of the dream, every pulse of the bond mark. But the memory of the whispers the secrets I had shared with only her choked me. I decided it was best not to say anything implicating to anyone at this time.
I pulled my hand free. "It was nothing dear. Just a bad dream."
Maris tilted her head, her eyes searching mine. "You dream often these days. Perhaps it's your conscience."
The words pricked sharper than she intended them to. Or perhaps, exactly as she intended. "My conscience is clear," I said, my tone clipped.
"Of course it is," she replied quickly, masking the smirk that threatened to rise. "Forgive me. I only mean you've carried so much. No wonder your sleep is troubled."
I let the silence stretch between us. She was too smooth, too quick to amend. My suspicions clawed higher, but I swallowed them down.
When she left, I sat back on the bed and looked again at my wrist. The mark lay dormant, just skin now, but I could not unsee the faint light that had pulsed through it.
That night, I lit no candle. I sat in darkness, waiting for Kael. Hours passed. The moon rose higher, then drifted down toward dawn. His side of the bed remained cold.
The mark did not stir again, but I felt the emptiness like a blade in my chest. By the third night of silence, dread became fury.
When Kael finally returned, his boots heavy against the stone, I rose to meet him. "Where have you been?" I asked, voice shaking with the weight of too many sleepless nights.
His gaze barely brushed mine. "Patrols and other pack business."
"At both midnight and dawn? You've been away every night for weeks?" My voice cracked, but I held firm. "Do not lie to me, Kael. I can feel it. Something is wrong."
His jaw tightened. He set aside his cloak without looking at me. "Then stop feeling. Focus on your role. You are Luna. Act like it."
My chest tightened. "And what does that mean? To sit here, humiliated, mocked, alone, while you vanish into the night? To pretend that the bond is weak?"
That caught him. His head turned sharply, eyes locking onto mine. "What did you say?"
"The bond," I whispered, raising my wrist. "It has been getting weeker for days. Last night it glowed. It pulsed. It has never done that before. I think it's warning me, Kael. Something's happening between us. Please let's fix it."
His face hardened into stone. "Dreams and illusions. That's all. Fix yourself." "It was not a dream," I said, stepping closer. "It was real. I could feet it."
His voice dropped, sharp and cold. "Enough, Selene. I will not be accused in my own halls." I flinched as though struck. "Accused? I never accused you. I only "
"You nag," he interrupted, stepping back toward the door. "Endlessly. If you cannot shoulder the weight of this role, then perhaps you have no business being Luna."
The words sliced through me, deeper than any blade. The same words he said to me nights ago. Is this all he has to say to me?
I watched as he opened the door, cloak in hand, and left. The slam of wood echoed like thunder in my chest.
I stood alone, my wrist still tingling, my heart unraveling.
The bond was sacred, immutable. And yet, it had stirred. It pulsed with betrayal.
I sank to the floor, clutching my wrist, trembling as the memory of fire and laughter echoed through me once more.
And for the first time since taking the crown, I feared the truth: The dream was not just a warning.
It was a prophecy. Traitor.
The word burned in me, and the bond throbbed once again, faintly, as though to confirm it.
The bond that should have bound me was warning me of betrayal. And for the first time since I had taken my place
as Luna, I feared that the word burned into my dream might one day become my reality.