Night fell hard over the Ashclaw camp.
The celebration had ended, but the tension lingered—coiled like a predator beneath the laughter and fading music. Elena sat alone outside the tent she'd been given, the silver pendant from her mother warm in her hand. The edges were worn, the crescent moon carved into its surface catching the firelight.
She traced it with her thumb, thoughts tangled like the vines of the Hollow itself.
She wasn't sure when she had stopped feeling like a stranger in this world—and started feeling like a part of it.
The canvas behind her rustled. Kael's silhouette emerged, his shirt half-unbuttoned, the bandages at his side stained with fresh blood.
"You should be resting," Elena said, not turning.
"I'll heal," he replied, then hesitated. "But you might not if you keep letting your guard down."
She smirked. "That sounded almost like concern."
Kael sat beside her. "It was."
For a moment, there was silence—comfortable, charged.
"Lyra said something earlier," Elena said. "She called me a 'bridge.' Between what?"
Kael looked into the fire. "Between what we were, and what we might become. Between the old bloodlines and the new. Between war and something else."
"Peace?"
He scoffed. "Wolves don't do peace well. But maybe... balance."
Elena tilted her head toward him. "Why do they follow her? Lyra. She doesn't exactly scream warm and fuzzy."
Kael's expression darkened. "Because she once killed the Alpha who tried to turn them into mercenaries. Because she bled for them. Because she doesn't lie."
"Unlike you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Kael gave a lopsided grin. "I lie only when I must."
Elena laughed softly—then stopped, her eyes caught by a flicker of light in the trees.
Someone was watching them.
She stood quickly, Kael instantly alert at her side.
A figure stepped into view—a girl, no older than sixteen, with wild curls and frightened eyes. She wore tattered boots and a thick, mismatched coat.
"Elena Morgan?" the girl asked, her voice trembling.
"Yes?"
"They sent me. The Hollow... it's changing. And they said you'd know what to do."
Before Elena could respond, the girl collapsed.
Kael caught her just before she hit the ground. A deep cut ran along her side, soaked with blood. Not fresh—days old and infected. But something else pulsed beneath her skin. Something unnatural.
"She's been marked," Kael growled. "Silver venom."
Elena's heart pounded. "Can we save her?"
"Not alone," he said. "We need the Moonmarked."
Elena blinked. "That's just a legend."
"No," Kael said. "It's not."
By morning, they were gone—Kael, Elena, Ryn, and the unconscious girl carried in a sling. Lyra had said nothing when they left, only handed Kael a blade older than both of them and told Elena, "You make the Hollow choose."
They traveled west, deeper than Elena had ever been. The trees grew taller, the roots thicker, the air heavier. It felt like the forest was watching again—no longer judging her, but waiting for something.
Eventually, they reached it.
A circle of stones—much larger than the last—each one engraved with ancient runes. Moonlight filtered through the canopy even though it was high noon.
"This is it," Kael whispered.
He laid the girl in the center of the circle. Elena stood over her, heart pounding. She didn't know what she was supposed to do.
"Close your eyes," Kael said. "And listen."
So she did.
And the Hollow answered.
Voices rose—not human, not wolf. Something in between. She saw flashes behind her eyes: a pale woman with a crown of antlers, wolves howling at the stars, her mother's face smiling through tears.
Then—fire.
And a voice. Her voice.
"The blood is not broken. It is buried."
Elena gasped as pain lanced through her chest. When she opened her eyes, her hands were glowing faintly with silver-blue light.
She knelt and placed her palms on the girl's wound.
Light surged.
The mark sizzled, then faded.
The girl stirred, blinking in confusion.
Kael stared at Elena like she was someone new. Someone... dangerous.
"You carry the Moonmark," he said quietly. "Your mother hid it in you."
Elena stood slowly, unsteady on her feet. "What does that mean?"
"It means you're not just the bridge," Kael said. "You're the key."
She looked down at her hands, then toward the sky.
The Hollow wasn't whispering anymore.
It was singing.
And the song was hers.