The mark was changing.
At first, it was subtle—just a deepening in color, a soft shimmer that clung to her skin like stardust. But now, when Aria looked at it in the mirror, the crescent shape looked more like a blade than a moon. Sharper. Hungrier.
She hadn't told anyone. Not even her mother. Especially not Dorian.
He'd been… different lately.
Still kind. Still warm. Still devoted.
But it was the way he hovered. The way he touched her like he was checking for something beneath her skin. The way he asked her, again and again, "Have you had any more dreams?"
"Yes," she lied this time. "But they're fading."
He kissed her forehead in response and whispered, "Good."
But her dreams weren't fading. They were becoming clearer—more vivid.
The woman in silver robes no longer called her name. She called her daughter. She called her Luna. And last night, she'd said something Aria couldn't shake:
"When he breaks you, you will rise. But not the same."
During patrols, Aria found herself lagging. Her senses dulled. Her limbs tired easily. Her wolf—usually playful and loud in her mind—was quiet. Withdrawn.
She mentioned it to her mother while helping in the garden.
"Maybe it's the bond settling," her mother offered, gently digging into the soil. "That kind of magic takes adjustment. Especially for a Sacred Luna."
Aria blinked. "You believe that now?"
Her mother shrugged. "The mark, the dreams, the way people feel drawn to you when you walk into a room? Selene doesn't always shout. Sometimes she whispers."
"Then why do I feel like I'm disappearing?"
Her mother paused, soil falling from her fingertips. "Do you really feel that way?"
"I don't know," Aria said truthfully. "Maybe I'm just overthinking."
Her mother nodded—but her frown lingered.
That night, Dorian gave her a necklace.
The pendant was shaped like her birthmark.
"I had it made," he said, his tone unusually hushed. "To keep you protected. From… everything."
"It's beautiful," she whispered, even as her skin prickled beneath it.
She wore it anyway.
She always did what he asked.
And miles away, the witch smiled as her charm found its place.
"Soon," she whispered, feeding more herbs to the flames.
"He'll be ready. And the Luna will fall."