Kael bled in his sleep.
Not from battle wounds or rituals—but from the inside, where the curse made its home.
He awoke choking on air, his sheets tangled in sweat, blood dripping from his nose. For a moment, the room twisted—walls breathing, shadows crawling.
Then the pain receded, like a wave drawing back before another crash.
He rolled out of bed and staggered to the mirror.
His eyes flickered gold… then black… then void.
He punched the glass.
It shattered. Blood bloomed across his knuckles.
He didn't heal.
That was new.
He leaned over the basin, breathing hard.
The Moonblood had bought him seven days of clarity. But now it was day three.
And his body was already screaming again.
⸻
Across the ridge, Seren stood barefoot in the Moonkeeper's Sanctuary, deep beneath the roots of the mountain. Candles floated in midair, dancing to a breeze that didn't exist.
Before her stood a stone altar carved with ancient sigils.
Her mother's name was etched in its center: Priestess Sera Vale.
The last of the Moonblood.
Until her.
Seren lit a silver flame from the candle at her fingertips and placed it at the altar's base.
"She died refusing to bless an unworthy Alpha," she whispered. "And now I'm expected to save one."
Behind her, a voice stirred.
"You're not just expected," Rowan said. "You're destined."
Seren didn't turn. "Destiny is a leash."
"No," he murmured, "destiny is a door. One only you can choose to open."
She finally turned, her face unreadable.
"Tell me the truth, Rowan. No riddles. No illusions. What really happened the night my mother died?"
Rowan's jaw tensed.
Seren stepped closer. "You owe me."
The High Seer exhaled slowly. "Very well."
He waved a hand. A ripple of magic shimmered in the air. The sanctuary dimmed, and an image began to form—an astral vision projected by the spirit realm.
⸻
In the vision:
A younger Sera Vale stood in the old temple, arms outstretched, magic coiling around her in threads of silver. Before her knelt Kael's father—Alpha Rhogan Blackthorn—madness frothing at the edges of his eyes.
He begged her. Demanded her blessing.
She refused.
"The goddess Lira forbids a forced bond," Sera said. "I will not give you what you try to take."
He struck her.
Magic shattered.
Blood hit the altar.
Sera fell.
And from her dying breath, a whisper: "The next Moonblood will rewrite you all."
⸻
The vision ended.
Seren stood frozen, jaw clenched, a tear slipping down her cheek.
"Why show me now?" she asked.
"Because your mark is more than power," Rowan said. "It is prophecy. And prophecy is patient… until it's not."
⸻
Later that night, Kael stood alone in the moonlit courtyard where elders once trained him.
He heard her footsteps before he saw her.
"You've seen it," she said.
He turned. "The curse? Every night."
"No. The vision. Of my mother."
He nodded once.
"I didn't know it was that brutal," he admitted.
"Of course you didn't," she replied. "The Blackthorn line is built on secrets. But I'm done being your silence."
Kael stepped closer. "What do you want from me?"
Seren's eyes narrowed. "I want your bloodline to remember that leadership without humility is just tyranny."
She drew a small dagger and slashed a line across the back of her arm.
Kael reached for her. "What are you—?"
She dipped her finger in the blood and painted a sigil onto the courtyard stones.
The Moonblood symbol for unraveling.
"This is your legacy," she said. "Tied to the goddess you betrayed and the woman your father silenced."
Kael stared down at the mark.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.
"Bleed for it," Seren said. "Or let it bleed you dry."
She turned and walked away.
He didn't follow.