MOONBOUND HEARTS
Chapter Eight — Echoes of the Howl
The night after the trial was eerily quiet. The temple had crumbled into ruin, its stones now veined with silver light that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. Luca and Mara stood at the edge of the forest, both watching the mist drift through the trees.
"Something's changed," Luca said finally. "The air feels… heavier."
Mara nodded, her fingers brushing the edge of her new mark. "It's not just the air. The forest knows I passed the trial."
He glanced at her wrist, the faint glow illuminating his face. "Or it knows who you are now."
Before she could answer, the sound came again—a distant, mournful howl that made the ground vibrate. It wasn't the Alpha's voice. It was deeper, rougher, filled with hunger.
"That's not one of ours," Luca muttered, every muscle tensing.
Mara took a step toward the trees. "Then who is it?"
Luca caught her arm. "Stay back. Whatever that is, it's old. Older than the pack. I've heard stories… about a wolf that was exiled before the first moon binding. A creature born from rage, not blood."
She met his gaze. "And you think that's what we just heard?"
He didn't answer. His silence said enough.
From the shadows ahead, the mist thickened until it turned black, writhing as if alive. Two red eyes opened within it.
Luca drew his blade—what was left of it—and pushed Mara behind him. "Go," he whispered.
But the mist moved faster than thought. It slammed into them like a wave, sending both sprawling. Mara hit the ground hard, air bursting from her lungs. When she lifted her head, Luca was gone.
"Luca!"
Only echoes answered. The red eyes vanished, leaving nothing but the faint smell of ash.
She staggered to her feet, her pulse pounding. Her mark burned again, but differently this time—urgent, warning her. Then, faintly, she heard something else. A whisper. Follow the howl.
She turned toward the sound and ran. The forest bent around her, branches twisting out of the way as if guiding her path. Shadows shifted at the edges of her vision—shapes that looked almost human, almost wolf.
Finally, she broke into a clearing she'd never seen before. In the center stood an ancient stone monolith, carved with runes that glowed the same silver as her mark. The ground was scorched around it, and the air shimmered with heat.
Luca was there—kneeling, unmoving, his blade buried point-first in the soil beside him.
"Luca!" She rushed to him, grabbing his shoulders. His eyes snapped open—glowing red for a split second before fading to their usual gray.
"Mara…" he rasped. "He's awake."
"Who?"
Before he could speak, the monolith cracked down the middle. From the fissure poured light darker than shadow. And out of that light stepped a figure—tall, cloaked in fur, with eyes like burning coals.
The exile.
"Daughter of the Moon," the creature said in a voice that shook the forest. "You carry her mark. Give it to me, and I will spare your pack."
Mara's breath caught. "You're lying."
"Am I?" The creature smiled—a flash of fangs. "Your Alpha made a promise once. A promise that cost me my soul."
The ground trembled again, and trees began to fall one by one, crushed by unseen force.
Luca pulled her behind him, voice low. "Run. I'll hold him."
Mara's eyes burned with defiance. "Not again."
The exile raised his clawed hand—and the world exploded into light.
The explosion hurled them both into the air. The shockwave tore through the clearing, uprooting trees and scattering shards of stone from the cracked monolith. Mara hit the ground hard, vision swimming, lungs burning from the dust.
She pushed herself upright, dazed but alive. Across the clearing, Luca staggered to his feet, blood running down one side of his face. The exile stood untouched, the black light coiling around him like smoke.
"You survived the Moon's trial," the exile said. "But you cannot survive me."
Luca's eyes flashed. "We'll see."
He lunged, his broken blade flaring silver. The exile caught it effortlessly between two claws and flung him aside like a rag doll. Luca slammed into a fallen tree, groaning as splinters tore through his coat.
Mara's heartbeat roared in her ears. The mark on her wrist blazed hotter and hotter until it felt like it was branding her skin. The silver veins that circled it began to spread up her arm, glowing brighter with every pulse.
The exile noticed and hesitated. "No," he growled. "That power is not yours."
"It's not yours either," she said through gritted teeth.
She raised her arm, and the light burst outward in a shockwave of pure moonfire. It struck the exile square in the chest, sending him reeling. His roar echoed for miles.
Luca crawled back toward her, shielding his eyes. "Mara, stop! You'll burn yourself alive!"
She couldn't hear him anymore. The forest was gone. The ground, the sky, the stars—everything dissolved into light. She stood in an endless white plain, the silence so complete it pressed on her ears.
A figure appeared before her. A woman cloaked in silver, her eyes the color of the Moon.
Do not fight what you are, the voice whispered inside Mara's mind. You are not only chosen—you are the bridge. The hunt and the light must meet through you.
Mara tried to speak, but the words vanished from her lips.
He seeks to break the circle, the Moon continued. And if he succeeds, both worlds will fall. The wolf within you must wake.
The vision shattered.
She gasped as she slammed back into her body. The exile stood over her now, wounded but smiling, black ichor dripping from his chest.
"So," he hissed, "the Moon speaks to you too."
Mara lifted her hand again, light sparking at her fingertips. "She told me something else, too."
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
"That you're afraid."
The mark on her wrist flared one last time, blindingly bright—and the entire clearing vanished in a flood of silver light.
When it faded, she was alone. The monolith was gone. Luca was gone. Only the scent of smoke and the faint echo of a distant howl remained, rolling through the trees like a warning.
To be continued....