The Claiming Moon hung low over Feralmoor Ridge, bleeding red across the sky.
It was a cursed moon—the kind that sang of ruin, not love.
Seren Vale stood barefoot in the packed dirt at the edge of the ritual ring, wind threading through her hair like fingers from the past. The Blackthorn Pack circled around her in silent judgment, half of them in human form, the rest shifted—massive wolves with gleaming eyes and growling thoughts. Their fur bristled with suspicion.
She didn't belong here.
She never had.
She was a servant's daughter. An orphan. An Omega who hadn't shifted by eighteen—an anomaly the pack whispered about behind closed doors. Some said she was a bad omen. Others called her the curse given flesh.
Tonight, they all came to watch her humiliation.
Because tonight, under the blood moon, the Alpha's mate would be revealed. And Seren had no one. No bloodline. No magic. No purpose.
Yet something tugged inside her—deep, ancient. Like a thread of moonlight wrapped around her ribs.
She felt… called.
And that terrified her.
"Out of the circle, Vale," someone hissed from the crowd. "This rite isn't for the likes of you."
She didn't move. Couldn't.
Because across the circle, the Alpha was staring at her.
Kael Blackthorn.
Cold. Commanding. Cursed. The youngest Alpha in the Ridge's history and the most feared. He stood with his head high, black coat billowing like shadow-fire around him. His golden eyes glinted, unreadable.
The drums stopped.
Kael moved.
Each step he took toward her felt like thunder. The earth listened to him. Trees bent toward him. Power radiated from his very bones—and it was walking straight for her.
Seren's knees trembled. Her pulse raced. He wasn't even looking at the others. Just her.
"This can't be happening," she whispered. "It's a mistake…"
But she couldn't run. The bond—whatever it was—froze her in place.
Kael stopped a breath away. She could smell him: pine, smoke, blood, and winter steel. His voice rolled through the circle like distant thunder.
"The Moon has spoken."
Seren's lips parted. Her breath fogged the cold air between them.
"No…" she whispered, but it was too late.
Kael lifted his hand—and pressed two fingers against her collarbone.
A searing white flame burst between them.
Gasps echoed through the circle. Elders rose to their feet. Wolves howled in confusion.
The Mate Mark glowed on Seren's skin like a silver sun, etching itself into the hollow of her shoulder like a brand from the gods.
Her body arched from the shock. Her soul screamed with something vast, overwhelming—connection. Every nerve ending burned with Kael's essence. She could feel his breath, his rage, his pain, like it was her own.
He was hers.
She was his.
A bond that should never have formed.
And then… it shattered.
Kael's hand dropped.
His voice—flat, emotionless—carved through her soul.
"I reject this bond."
Time collapsed.
The pain hit her before the words did—like something being torn out of her chest with claws. Seren collapsed, her body convulsing. The bond unraveled mid-formation, slashing through her spirit like a blade.
The mark turned to ash. Her skin seared. Her lungs burned.
"No—no!" she screamed. "You can't—!"
"I just did," Kael said coldly.
Gasps. Whispers. Someone wept.
She lifted her head, tears and blood streaking her face.
He wouldn't even look at her.
Kael turned to the pack. "Remove her from this sacred ground. She is not my mate."
No one moved.
Not a soul came forward to help her.
Seren lay broken in the dirt, shaking, heart in pieces, a circle of wolves surrounding her like the stars around a dying moon.
In that moment, something inside her—something bright and innocent—died forever.
FIVE YEARS LATER
Kael Blackthorn stood alone in the Alpha chamber, hands bloodied, mind splitting.
The curse was taking root again.
The room spun. His own reflection in the silver basin distorted—his face split, wolf eyes bleeding into black voids. The ancestral madness was creeping faster than expected.
"She's returned," Elder Rowan's voice rasped behind him. "The girl you cast away."
Kael clenched his jaw. "That was a long time ago."
"She was chosen by the Moon. You rejected the bond—and now your blood is boiling in your brain. The madness is your reward."
Kael didn't speak. He couldn't.
He felt her. Like static under his skin. Like unfinished magic.
"She won't help you," Rowan warned. "You'll have to beg."
Kael wiped the blood from his mouth. "I don't beg."
"Then you'll die."
Deep beyond the Ridge, beneath the canopy of the Witherwood Forest, a woman moved like shadow and flame.
Seren Vale no longer walked in the body of a victim.
Her limbs were muscle. Her mind was iron. Her heart—a weapon forged in betrayal.
The scar Kael left on her skin had never healed.
But now, she bore a second mark—one only the Moonblood could see. A divine inheritance her mother died to protect.
Behind her, a raven landed on a low branch. It croaked once.
A sign.
"They're coming," she murmured.
A shape stepped from the mist. A scout. Loyal to Rowan.
"Kael is dying," he said. "And the Elders have summoned you."
Seren's eyes, once soft, now burned silver.
She didn't hesitate.
"Let him."