The fog rolled in fast—cold, thick, and humming with something dark underneath. I didn't need Kai's grunt to know we were no longer alone. I could feel it—the mark under my skin thrumming like a warning drum.
"Don't stray from me," Kai growled, his hand already on his blade. His voice was calm, but his stance told another story—he was ready for war.
We were scouting ahead, following a broken ridge that opened into a half-flooded valley. The others were still behind us, Mira and the rest. I wanted to believe the mist was just weather. But I'd seen too much. Dreamed worse.
A low howl sliced through the silence.
Kai tensed beside me. "That's not one of ours."
Figures emerged from the fog, distorted shadows that took shape as they drew near. Their eyes glowed the same sickly shade I saw in every nightmare.
I drew my blade without thinking. No hesitation. Just instinct.
They charged.
The fight was chaos—blurred bodies, snarls, the scent of blood sharp in the air. I ducked a lunging form and drove my blade into its chest. The mark on my shoulder flared, releasing a pulse that sent two others stumbling back.
Kai moved like smoke and silver, cutting down anything that got too close. For a moment, it looked like we had them, until the mist thickened again.
And then everything stopped.
A presence pressed against my chest like a hand. Heavy. Ancient. Cold.
From the fog, a figure stepped through.
Not wolf.
Not shadow.
Something else.
He wore black like it was born on him, tattered coat, silver clasps, dark hair swept back from a face too sharp to be mortal. His eyes weren't red. They were violet. Burning from within.
The wolves backed away. Even Kai stilled.
The newcomer didn't speak at first. He just looked at me, straight through me.
"You're marked," he said, voice smooth like glass over a blade.
I didn't answer. Couldn't. My legs locked under me, my hand tight around my blade.
Kai stepped forward, but the man's gaze pinned him where he stood. "You've kept her hidden long enough, hound."
"I don't answer to you," Kai snarled.
The man tilted his head. "You do. You just forgot."
I could feel it then, the weight of something old between them. Not hatred. Not exactly. But history.
"Kai," I whispered, "who is he?"
The man's smile was slow, amused. "Let him answer. Or shall I?"
Kai didn't move. "Kael Draven. Prince of the House of Night. Son of Elias."
A vampire.
Royalty.
Shadow-bound.
Kael stepped closer, ignoring Kai now. His eyes didn't leave mine. "I've waited a long time for you to wake, Luna."
"How do you know my name?" I asked, breath tight.
"Because it was written long before you were born. In blood. In shadow."
The mark on my skin pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Kael raised his hand, not threatening, but still, power thrummed around him like a storm wrapped in silk.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said, voice low. "But they will keep coming. And next time, they'll send worse."
Kai moved fast, positioning himself between us, eyes locked on Kael. "She's not going with you."
"I didn't ask for permission."
Lightning cracked somewhere far off, and with it, the fog stirred.
Kael's expression hardened slightly. "There's more coming. We don't have time for a pissing contest." He looked at me. "When the gate opens, so will your memory. And when it does... you'll know where to find me."
He turned without another word and walked into the fog—slow, deliberate, unbothered by the growls echoing beyond the trees.
Kai stood rigid beside me. I could feel the tension vibrating off him.
"Why didn't we stop him?" I whispered.
Kai's voice was low, tight. "Because even I'm not stupid enough to fight a Draven alone.