The wind had teeth.
It knifed through the Frostweald with a ferocity that made even Ronan pause before taking the next step forward. Snow whipped around them in violent spirals, erasing footprints almost as quickly as they were made.
But Aria did not lag behind.
If anything, the shard she carried pulsed softly through the storm, like a guiding heartbeat. The First Luna's shard warmed her palm despite the cold, steady and intent — as if urging her onward.
Ronan walked beside her, one hand hovering near her back in case the wind shoved her off balance. The stranger followed close behind, muttering short, clipped invocations that flickered in runic patterns around them.
"We shouldn't be traveling in this," Ronan growled over the howl of the wind. "This isn't normal weather."
"It isn't weather at all," the stranger shouted back. "The Devourer stirs the frost. It knows its leap toward you failed — now it seeks to slow your journey."
Aria tightened her cloak around her shoulders. "Let it try."
Ronan shot her a sidelong look. "Confidence looks good on you. But don't taunt an ancient monster, sweetheart."
She smirked despite the cold. "If I don't taunt him, who will?"
"Me," Ronan said flatly. "I taunt monsters. You stay behind me."
She raised a brow. "I'm pretty sure I'm the one with the glowing destiny at the moment."
He scoffed. "And I'm the one with claws."
"You both have a point," the stranger deadpanned. "But we are all going to freeze if we stand here arguing."
They moved again.
The Frostweald's towering trees surrounded them like silent guardians, their limbs heavy with ice. Some were cracked, split open by a force stronger than frost. Aria brushed her fingers along one as she passed — a faint pulse of shadow residue shivered against her skin.
"It's been here," she whispered.
Ronan stiffened. "When?"
"Hours? Maybe less."
The stranger nodded grimly. "It is watching. Waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Ronan demanded.
"The right moment," the stranger replied. "Shadows strike best when the heart grows complacent."
Aria swallowed and tucked that warning into her ribs.
⸻
A Warning in the Trees
After another stretch of treacherous terrain, the forest opened into a narrow glade — a frozen stream cutting across their path. Ronan crouched beside it, dipping two fingers into the ice.
He inhaled sharply.
"Blood."
Aria knelt beside him. "Human?"
"No," Ronan murmured. His pupils narrowed. "Wolf."
"Yours?" Aria asked quietly.
"No," he said. "But from my pack."
Her stomach dropped.
"They're close," Ronan said, standing abruptly. "If any of them survived the Devourer's shades, they'll follow my scent."
"That could be good," Aria said hopefully.
Ronan's jaw was tight. "Or it could bring danger straight to us. My wolves don't know about the bond yet. They don't know what you are. They will protect me—but they may see you as a threat."
Aria felt a cold that had nothing to do with the wind.
The stranger added softly, "The Devourer thrives on mistrust. It would love nothing more than to pit your own pack against her."
A distant howl cracked through the frozen air.
Aria stiffened. "Is that—?"
Ronan nodded. "One of mine. That's Eryndor's call. He's a tracker. If he's alive…" He cut off, emotion tightening his voice.
The stranger raised his staff. "We must move carefully. If your pack is injured or corrupted, they may lash out."
Ronan stepped forward—
—and the ground shuddered beneath them.
Aria's breath caught. "What was—?"
Ronan pushed her back. "Shh. Don't move."
The snow in front of them bulged.
Then split.
A wolf crawled out — massive, frost-coated, panting, coated in blood that wasn't fully his.
Aria took a step backward instinctively.
Ronan's voice broke on a whisper.
"Eryndor…"
The wolf staggered forward — then collapsed, shifting mid-fall into human form. A tall male with broad shoulders, long braids, and frostbitten hands lay at Ronan's feet.
"R—Ronan…" Eryndor gasped. "You're… alive…"
Ronan fell to his knees beside him. "Eryndor. Stay still. What happened to you?"
Eryndor's gaze darted to Aria — fear flashing through the fog of pain.
"That girl…" he rasped. "She… she shines like the moon… The shadows chase her. We thought…" His eyes widened with panic. "We thought she was the Devourer."
Aria's heart clenched. "No—I'm not—"
Eryndor flinched when she reached forward.
Ronan grabbed his shoulders. "Eryndor, listen to me. She's my mate."
Eryndor froze.
The stranger muttered, "Oh dear."
Aria held her breath.
Eryndor's voice dropped to a stunned whisper.
"Mate…? You… bound yourself… to her?"
"Yes," Ronan said.
Eryndor stared at Aria, disbelief warring with fear. "She carries the scent of the Devourer's light and the moon's blessing—how can she be—?"
"Because she is," Ronan snapped. "And if any wolf of mine raises a hand against her, they answer to me."
Aria stepped forward slowly. "I don't want to replace your pack. I don't want to be feared. I only want to help—"
The trees hissed.
Aria spun.
Ronan shifted halfway, claws out.
Eryndor's eyes widened in terror. "It followed me!"
⸻
The Shades Arrive
Shadows peeled themselves out of the treeline — not like the Devourer's tendrils, but smaller, faster, shaped like wolves with hollow ribcages and glowing eyes.
Eryndor trembled. "They… they hunted my pack. They took down seven. They don't stop. They don't think. They only follow the Devourer's hunger."
Ronan lifted Aria behind him instinctively. "Stay close."
But Aria shook her head. "No. I can help."
Ronan growled softly. "Aria—"
"I'm not helpless," she whispered.
The stranger lifted his staff, runes sparking. "They're testing the edges. They want to know how much she can do without breaking."
Shadows crept from every angle. Twenty… Thirty…
Ronan cracked his neck. "Let them try."
The first shade lunged.
Ronan intercepted it midair, claws shredding through the shadow-wolf's throat. It dissolved into black dust.
Aria's glow flared.
Another shade rushed toward her. She raised her hand instinctively — not to blast, but to shape.
A shield of moonlight formed around her, shimmering like liquid silver. The shade struck it and dissolved instantly.
Ronan stared mid-fight. "When did you learn that?"
"Just now!" she yelled, breathless.
The stranger raised his staff higher. "She's stabilizing! Use it! Don't let them overwhelm you!"
The shades came faster.
Ronan fought them with raw ferocity, each slash of his claws ripping through shadow. Aria's shield expanded, covering the stranger and Eryndor as well.
But the more she held the barrier—
—the more something throbbed painfully in her chest.
She gasped, knees buckling.
"Aria!" Ronan grabbed her waist. "Drop the shield! You're overloading!"
"I—I can't," she whispered. "If I stop… they'll kill Eryndor…"
Eryndor pushed himself weakly upright. "Don't… risk your life… for me…"
"I'm not letting anyone die," Aria breathed.
Her light flickered—
dimmed—
strained—
Ronan saw it immediately.
His voice softened. "Aria, look at me."
She lifted her eyes.
Silver met storm-gray.
"Let. Me. Help."
He pressed his palm to hers, and through the bond—
he poured strength into her.
Warm.
Steady.
Wolf-deep and unbreakable.
Aria inhaled sharply as her power stabilized.
The shield flared to full brightness, pushing the shades backward.
The stranger shouted, "Ronan is amplifying her! Keep going!"
Aria stood tall again, breath steadying. "Thank you."
Ronan's smirk was half-wolf, half-something more tender. "Always."
⸻
The Devourer Speaks Again
The shades suddenly froze.
Every one of them lifted its head at once.
Then—
They bowed.
Ronan's heart dropped.
"No… what now?"
A cold wind cut through the glade.
The Devourer's voice slithered through the forest:
MOONBREAKER.
YOU STAND WITH THE WOLF…
BUT YOU CANNOT PROTECT THEM ALL.
Aria clenched her fists. "Watch me."
THE PATH YOU WALK…
LEADS TO YOUR END.
AND THE WOLF WILL BE THE ONE WHO BREAKS.
Aria's breath stumbled.
Ronan growled. "Enough."
COME TO ME, ARIA.
BEFORE YOUR LIGHT DEVOURS YOU.
BEFORE YOUR HEART BETRAYS YOU.
Aria felt a pulse of pain behind her ribs — as if the shard itself resonated with the Devourer's words.
Ronan grabbed her shoulders.
"Don't listen," he whispered. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Her eyes burned. "I know."
The Devourer hissed one final time—
THE HIGH PASS AWAITS.
THERE… YOUR FATE CRACKS OPEN.
The shades retreated.
The glade went silent again.
Eryndor shook, staring at Aria with newfound understanding. "She truly is the Moonbreaker…"
But he also stared with fear.
Aria's chest tightened. "Do you… trust me now?"
Eryndor hesitated.
Ronan stepped forward, voice low and dangerous.
"You trust her. Understood?"
Eryndor bowed his head. "Yes, Alpha."
Ronan turned back to Aria.
"You okay?"
Aria nodded — but her eyes lingered on the glowing shard in her palm.
"The Devourer knows where we're going," she whispered. "Luna's Cradle won't be a safe haven. It'll be the battlefield."
Ronan stepped closer, brushing a thumb along her cheek.
"Then we win there."
Aria leaned into his touch for a heartbeat.
"Together," she whispered.
"Always," he said.
They turned toward the mountain pass.
And somewhere above them, the Devourer coiled in the clouds, hungry and waiting.