The night was calm as Astrid rocked her baby to sleep. Her soft breath and small hands curled against her chest.
Suddenly, a single, sharp cry cut through the air.
"They're here!"
Astrid's eyes went wide. Before she could move, her door burst open and Magda, her closest ally, stormed inside, her breath rough with urgency.
"We need to move. Now." The words came out hard.
Astrid didn't ask questions. She rose, cradling the newborn to her chest, her maternal instincts kicking in.
Outside, the air hit her with the smell of blood and smoke. As she moved, a loud fire rose. Chaos had taken over.
There were distant screams, the clash of steel and fang, and the frantic stamp of feet scrambling for safety. The cry of her kin filled the night, raw and broken.
"This way, Astrid!" Magda shouted, already running.
Astrid's heart tightened.
She glanced at the child, who slept, unaware, her cheeks soft and pale in the moonlight. Her chest ached. She ran faster than her legs felt willing.
One mission beat in her mind like a drum: protect her at all costs.
Then, a voice called after them. "They're getting away! After them!"
"They're closing in, Magda! We'll never make it." Astrid's voice trembled, ragged from fear and exertion.
"We have to try," Magda replied.
Arrows sighed through the air. A whisper that suddenly became a rain. Astrid and Magda looked up. The sky seemed to shower iron.
Then Astrid stopped. Her face went slack. Magda skidded back and grabbed her.
"Astrid…" she breathed. "You've been hit."
Astrid's hand dropped to her belly. An arrow protruded just beneath the child, black against pale skin. Her knees buckled.
Magda lunged and caught her. "Oh no," she cried, her voice breaking.
Astrid's breath was shallow. Blood spilled from her lips.
She pulled the child closer, as if doing that could keep the light in her eyes. She could feel her world going dark, but her resolve held like a stone anchor.
"My dear child…" she whispered, her voice small but fierce. "You were born to shine brighter than the stars. But if they see it now, they will end you before you even take your first step."
With a groan, she found the arrow and dragged it free, grinding her teeth, biting hard against them as she smeared its blood across the baby's chest.
There was a faint pulse of light, silver, then gold shivered under the skin, then faded into shadow.
"No, Astrid." Magda's plea trembled. "You don't have the strength—"
Astrid shook her head slowly. She looked at Magda and, with her last reserves, whispered an ancient prayer her ancestors had carried for centuries, words not meant for mortal ears, only for the moon above.
The air thickened. A low hum threaded the night, like distant wind through strings.
"Child of my womb, heir of the Moon, forgive the chains I lay upon you. I hide your fire in shadows, I hide your crown in silence. But when your heart bleeds and your wolf cries 'Mate,' your light will awaken, and no Alpha will stand above you."
The baby whimpered.
Her eyes shone silver and gold, like the moon wrapped in fire, and then eased into grey as if swallowed by shadow.
Magda caught the glow; for a second, something harder glinted in her gaze. Surprise? Hunger? Or maybe greed.
Astrid turned her face to Magda, coughing, blood spilling to her chin. "Take her… Protect her…" she managed.
Magda nodded, tears glossing her lashes, and took the infant into her arms. "Oh, Astrid," she sobbed.
"Protect…" Astrid whispered, and then she went still. Her eyes were wide and empty.
Magda closed Astrid's lids gently, then rose. There was no time to mourn. The enemies had surrounded them. The smell of smoke and burning wood filled her breath.
"I vowed to protect you," Magda murmured, her voice hardening as she looked at the child. "But I can only keep that vow if I live."
She straightened, her shoulders set, and turned toward the pack. Her heart hammered. Her hands shook around the infant's small form.
"She's one of them!" someone snarled.
"Kill her!" another voice barked.
"No." Magda's voice rang out, steady despite her trembling hands. She pushed her chin up and lifted the child high. "This is Elara. The one true heir of the Moon Goddess. Rare. Divine. Different."
Alpha Thorne stepped from the ring of wolves. "And why would I spare the one I came to kill?" he asked, his tone cold and dangerous, his eyes hard with the after-heat of rage.
"Because she's worth more to you alive," Magda whispered, the words both a bargain and a plea. "Tame her, and you hold the divine."
The pack fell silent, all eyes flicking to Thorne, waiting.
"Don't do it," his Beta, Eva, breathed, small and urgent beside him.
Thorne studied the child. She cooed softly, reaching out with tiny fingers. Then, he took the baby from Magda and handed her to Eva.
"Take the child," he said, his voice flat. Then he turned to his Gamma. "Kill her."
Magda's face crumpled. "What? No! No! I gave her to you! I bought my life with hers!" Her voice cracked.
"You are a moon heir. You die too." Thorne's delivery was other than merciful.
Before she could finish, a blade sliced through Magda.
Her eyes went wide. She sagged where she stood. As she fell, blood spread slowly across the ground like a halo.
The only guardian Astrid had trusted was gone.
Alpha Thorne stood in the center of his pack, surveying them as if choosing a trophy until his eyes stopped on the child.
He pointed at the baby cradled in Eva's arms.
"Her name is no longer Elara," he declared, his voice hard. "From this night, she is Clara. The jewel of the Moon Goddess, turned to dust in my hands. We will make her into an ordinary wolf."
As if the baby heard, for a fleeting second, her eyes glowed like fire.
Eva caught it, but it dimmed before she could speak.
The pack murmured.
A hunt finished.
The largest prize claimed.
But under the howl and the cheers, something quieter and colder lingered: for how long?
Because crowns may fall. Blood may be silenced. But the moon? It always rises.
And from that night on, the Moon's last heir would be known only as Clara. Wolfless. Powerless. Bound for a fate she could never imagine.