Aria (pov)
The forest had never felt so alive.
Each step Aria took made the earth whisper under her boots, the crunch of dry leaves echoing in the silence. She shouldn't have been out here. Blackridge Woods wasn't just another hiking trail—it was the kind of place locals talked about in hushed tones, the kind they said swallowed people whole.
Still, she came. Because fear had never stopped her before.
Her camera strap pressed into her neck, her breath clouding in the cold air. The October wind carried the smell of pine and something faintly metallic, like rust… or blood. She shook the thought away and focused the lens on the rising moon, swollen and red as if it had been wounded.
The Blood Moon.
Perfect timing for her photography project—or it should have been. But as she pressed the shutter, something shifted in the air. The forest listened.
Then came the sound—a low, guttural growl that didn't belong to any animal she knew.
Aria froze. Her fingers trembled on the camera. Another growl, closer this time. Her pulse spiked.
She wasn't alone.
The light breeze turned sharp, slicing through the trees, carrying the scent of earth and danger. Aria turned in slow motion, flashlight cutting a narrow path through the dark.
"Hello?" she called, voice barely above a whisper. "Is someone there?"
Silence.
Then—movement. Fast. Silent. A blur between the shadows.
Her heart hammered. She clicked the flashlight off and held her breath. Maybe it was a deer. Maybe her imagination.
But the air changed again, thick with something primal, electric. Her instincts screamed run. She turned, sprinting down the narrow path toward the main road—but the forest shifted, swallowing her in darkness. Every branch snagged at her hair and jacket. Every sound echoed too close.
She tripped, hit the ground hard, and scrambled up, palms stinging. And then—she saw it.
Two eyes glowed from the shadows. Silver. Luminous. Alive.
The creature stepped forward—taller than any wolf she'd seen, muscles rippling beneath its dark coat. Its gaze locked onto hers, wild and intelligent all at once.
It was impossible. Wolves didn't get this big. They didn't watch you like this—like they recognized you.
Aria's throat tightened. The camera slipped from her hands.
When it lunged, she screamed—
And the world exploded into chaos.
Something massive collided with the beast mid-air, sending both crashing into the trees. Snarls filled the night, savage and raw. The ground trembled beneath her. Branches snapped. Growls turned to roars.
Aria backed away, breath coming in frantic bursts. She caught flashes of movement—fur, claws, flashes of silver and black.
Then, silence.
A shadow rose from the wreckage. Not a wolf. A man.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His clothes were torn, streaked with dirt and blood. Under the crimson light of the moon, his eyes gleamed silver—the same color as the beast's.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice low, rough like gravel and smoke.
Aria tried to speak, but her words tangled. "Wh—who are you?"
"Stay still."
He moved closer. The forest seemed to recoil from him. She saw the faint shimmer of something on his arm—a strange symbol glowing against his skin, like a tattoo that pulsed with moonlight.
Aria stumbled back, shaking. "What—what are you?"
For a moment, he said nothing. Just looked at her, something flickering behind those silver eyes—pain, maybe regret.
"Go home," he said finally, voice sharp. "Forget you ever came here."
Then he turned and vanished into the trees—leaving behind only the echo of his voice and the distant sound of a wolf's howl splitting the night in two.
---
Darian (pov)
He shouldn't have saved her.
The rogue had been hunting her, and he should've let nature take its course. That was the law of his kind—never interfere with humans. Especially not during the Blood Moon.
But the moment he saw her, standing under that cursed sky with fear burning in her eyes, something ancient inside him stirred.
He tore the rogue apart in seconds. Blood on the ground, silence in its wake. Yet he felt no satisfaction—only the dull, hollow ache of recognition.
Her scent lingered in the air—sweet, human, but with something… different beneath it. Something that made the beast in him twitch.
He cursed under his breath and looked back at her—a fragile thing shaking in the dark, eyes wide, still clutching her broken camera like it could protect her. She didn't belong in this world, yet somehow, fate had dragged her straight into it.
Darian flexed his hands. His claws were gone, but the ache of transformation still burned beneath his skin. The blood moon always made control harder, and this—this girl—was making it worse.
He knelt beside the rogue's body, growling softly. The creature was one of his own kind, twisted by hunger and madness. More of them had been turning lately. Something was spreading through the packs, something old and poisonous.
He'd been tracking the source for months. Tonight was supposed to bring answers. Instead, it brought her.
"Stupid human," he muttered, scanning the treeline. The night was restless, filled with whispers. The forest knew when something had shifted.
Then his wrist burned.
He looked down to see the mark—the ancient sigil of his bloodline—glow faintly through the dirt and scars. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat. That hadn't happened in years.
"No," he hissed. "Not again."
He turned sharply, intending to leave before the moon took more from him, but his wolf pushed against the edge of his mind.
Go back.
Darian clenched his fists. She's human. She's nothing to us.
She's ours, the wolf snarled.
He slammed a wall around the voice, forcing control. The last time he'd listened to that instinct, people had died.
Still… he couldn't walk away.
He moved back through the trees, silent as shadow. She was still there, trembling, tears glinting on her cheeks. She looked so small against the enormity of the forest.
"Are you following me?" she demanded suddenly, defiance sparking through her fear.
Darian stopped, surprised. Most people ran screaming when they saw him. But not her.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"And you should?"
Her voice cracked, but she held her ground. The faint scent of her fear mingled with courage—and something else. The beast inside him stirred again.
He sighed. "Go home. Stay away from the woods. If you value your life, you'll forget this night ever happened."
"Like that's possible," she shot back, eyes blazing. "You—whatever you are—you just killed something that wasn't human. You expect me to forget that?"
He stepped closer, the moonlight catching the silver in his eyes. "Yes."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he was already gone—slipping between trees as if swallowed by the night itself.
---
Aria (pov)
By the time Aria stumbled back onto the empty road, the moon was high, bleeding light across the world. Her lungs burned. Her mind refused to make sense of what she'd seen.
A wolf that wasn't a wolf. A man that wasn't a man. Eyes that glowed like the moon.
She made it home near dawn, half-convinced she'd hallucinated everything. But when she washed her hands, her palms were still streaked with dirt and something darker. And on her wrist—where the man had grabbed her—was a faint mark. A crescent-shaped bruise that shimmered silver before fading.
For a moment, she swore she heard it: a distant howl, echoing through the city's edge.
And though she didn't understand why, her heart answered.
---
Darian (pov)
From the hill overlooking the town, Darian watched the first rays of sunlight pierce the horizon. His pack would be hunting him soon—especially once they sensed the mark's awakening.
The prophecy he'd spent his life denying was stirring again.
A human girl marked under the Blood Moon.
A forbidden connection between two worlds.
And the beast within him, no longer content to stay silent.
He closed his eyes, the scent of her lingering in his mind like smoke.
"Aria Lorne," he whispered, testing the name the wind had carried to him. "What have you done to me?"
The wolf inside him growled softly, not in anger this time—but in recognition.
Because for the first time in years, Darian felt something that terrified him more than the curse he carried.
Hope.