The night was silent, but the forest reeked of death.
Yaqut's boots crushed the wet soil as he walked through the clearing. His sharp eyes scanned the ground, taking in the bodies sprawled across the dirt — lifeless, pale, their throats marked by strange burns that shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
The guards that had been stationed here… all dead.
His breath came slow but heavy. He could sense the energy lingering in the air — something wild, ancient, and divine. It wasn't wolf power. It wasn't witchcraft either. It was colder, cleaner, like moonlight made flesh.
Yaqut crouched, brushing his fingers across the scorched earth. The dirt was still warm. Whatever had happened here had happened recently. He could smell blood — and her scent.
Mia.
He cursed under his breath and stood quickly. The moonlight reflected on his dark cloak as he looked around one last time. There were claw marks on the trees — not from rogues, but something far stronger. Even the air felt different, charged and tense.
A single lock of golden-brown hair fluttered near one of the fallen guards. He bent down, picked it up, and frowned. His sharp eyes darkened.
He knew what this meant — she was gone, and whoever had saved her wasn't human.
Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Darius's chamber was dim, filled with the scent of cedarwood and fury.
The Alpha stood near the window, his back to the door, hands clasped tightly behind him. His aura pulsed with authority — dark and dangerous, like a storm trapped in a man's body. The moment Yaqut entered, he could feel the tension choke the air.
"Speak," Darius said, his voice calm, too calm — the kind of calm that burned before an explosion.
"My lord," Yaqut began carefully, lowering his head, "we found the site… but—"
"But what?" Darius's tone sharpened instantly.
Yaqut swallowed hard. "The guards are dead."
There was silence.
Then Darius turned, his eyes glowing a deadly crimson. "Dead?" he repeated, the word cutting through the room like a knife. "All of them?"
"Yes, Alpha. Every single one. The scene was—" He hesitated, choosing his words. "Strange. The ground was burned with light. It was not done by claws or blades. It was… power."
Darius's expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened. "Power?" he repeated coldly. "What kind of power?"
"I do not know," Yaqut said quietly. "But it wasn't any ordinary magic. It was something—different. The girl's scent was there. She's alive."
Darius slammed his fist into the table. The wood cracked in half, splinters flying. "You let a human girl destroy my men?" His voice thundered through the room, vibrating with rage. "You were supposed to bring her in alive!"
Yaqut kept his head bowed low. "Forgive me, Alpha. I don't think it was her doing. I believe someone helped her—someone strong."
Darius's eyes flashed dangerously. "Someone helped her?" He took a slow step forward. "And you couldn't track them?"
"I tried," Yaqut said honestly. "But the scent vanished near the border. It's as if the wind swallowed it."
For a moment, Darius said nothing. The only sound was his heavy breathing and the faint crackle of the fireplace behind him.
Then, suddenly, he growled, "Get out."
Yaqut lifted his head slightly. "Alpha—"
"I said get out!" Darius roared, his voice echoing off the walls. His fangs glinted, his claws half-shifted. "You failed me. You failed the Voss name. Leave before I tear you apart myself."
Yaqut clenched his jaw, bowed low, and stepped back. His boots scraped the floor as he exited silently, closing the door behind him. Once outside, he let out a long breath, his heart still hammering from the Alpha's rage.
Inside, Darius stood still, glaring out the window. His reflection stared back — cold, angry, and humiliated.
Mia Ashford, he thought bitterly. You've just declared war you cannot win.
At the Eclipse Prowess Institute, dawn was slow and gray. The usual hum of laughter and movement was replaced by whispers. Everyone had heard about the Lycan Prince's strange mood, and no one dared cross his path.
Leon walked through the empty hallway, his expression unreadable. His uniform was neat, his silver hair slightly tousled, but there was a shadow behind his eyes — the same shadow that had followed him since the night before.
He knocked once on the headmistress's office door.
"Come in," came Orla's calm, authoritative voice.
He entered, and the headmistress looked up from her desk. Her silver-framed glasses caught the morning light. "Your Highness," she greeted with a polite nod. "What brings you here this early?"
Leon hesitated for a moment, then spoke quietly. "It's about Mia Ashford."
Orla's brows lifted slightly. "Ah. The suspended student." She folded her hands on the desk. "What about her?"
"She's… sick," he said simply. "She fell ill at home. She won't be returning immediately, but she'll come back soon."
Orla tilted her head, studying him. "I see. That's unfortunate. I hope it's nothing serious."
"It's not," Leon replied too quickly, and Orla caught the slight edge in his voice.
"You seem… troubled," she noted, leaning back slightly. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
Leon's lips pressed into a thin line. "No," he said. "I just came to inform you."
Orla sighed softly, sensing the walls around his tone. "Very well. When she returns, she'll need to speak with me first. There are still… matters regarding her suspension to address."
Leon nodded. "I'll tell her."
As he turned to leave, Orla's voice stopped him. "Prince Leon."
He looked back.
"Whatever it is you're protecting her from," she said quietly, "I hope you're ready for the cost."
Leon froze, the words hitting harder than she realized. He didn't reply — only bowed his head slightly and left.
Outside, the morning light felt cold against his skin. Xavier's voice murmured inside him again, softer this time.
"We almost lost her."
"I know," Leon whispered.
"Next time…"
"There won't be a next time," Leon interrupted. "I'll make sure of it."
Night fell again — quiet, heavy, and still.
Inside the Ashford home, the air was thick with worry. Laura sat beside Mia's bed, her hand resting on her daughter's arm. The faint glow of the lamp cast warm light across the room, but Mia hadn't stirred since Leon brought her back.
Laura sighed, brushing a strand of hair from Mia's forehead. "Please wake up soon, sweetheart," she whispered. "Please."
Footsteps echoed outside the door, and then Rowan entered quietly. His long cloak trailed behind him, the silver moon charm at his neck catching the faint light.
"She's stable now," he said after a glance. "The moon's pulse within her has calmed."
Laura turned toward him. "But she hasn't woken up."
"She will," Rowan said simply. He moved closer, resting his hand lightly on Mia's chest again. "Her energy is aligning. The moon is healing her."
As if on cue, Mia's fingers twitched.
Laura gasped. "Rowan—!"
Mia's eyelashes fluttered weakly before she slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry at first, filled with shifting light. Then she saw her mother's tear-streaked face above her.
"Mom?" Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
Laura broke into tears, hugging her gently. "Oh, my baby! You're awake."
Mia groaned softly, trying to sit up. "What happened…?"
"You fainted," Laura said, her voice trembling. "Leon brought you back."
Mia's eyes widened slightly at his name, but she said nothing. She remembered flashes — the fight, the guard trying to grab her, the way her body had burned like fire and light mixed together. Then everything went dark.
Rowan's deep voice broke the silence. "You used your power again."
Mia looked toward him slowly. "Elder Rowan…"
He nodded once. "Three times now. That is dangerous. You were lucky to survive."
"I didn't have a choice," she murmured. "They were going to—"
"I know," Rowan interrupted gently. "And I do not blame you. But the time for hiding has ended."
Mia frowned weakly. "What do you mean?"
Rowan turned toward the window. The moonlight poured through the glass, spilling across the room in pale silver. "Your power is awake now, Mia Ashford. The moon's blessing no longer sleeps within you. If you do not learn to control it, it will destroy you."
Laura looked worried. "Rowan, she just woke up—"
"She begins tomorrow," he said firmly, his eyes fixed on the moon. "No more delays."
Mia swallowed hard, feeling the weight in his tone. "Training?" she asked softly.
"Yes," he replied. "You are the last heir of a bloodline that once shaped the world. You carry power meant for balance, not chaos. But to wield it, you must first survive it."
He turned to face her again, his expression solemn. "You will start your training at dawn."
Mia lowered her gaze, exhaustion heavy on her body. But beneath it all, there was a spark — faint but real. Something in her chest stirred at his words, like a quiet call she could no longer ignore.
Laura brushed her hand against Mia's cheek. "Rest now. We'll talk in the morning."
Rowan nodded and moved toward the door. Before stepping out, he paused and looked up at the night sky through the window. His voice dropped to a low murmur, almost to himself.
"The moon rises brighter with every storm," he said quietly. "But every light draws a shadow."
Laura looked at him in confusion, but Rowan didn't explain. He just added, more to the moon than to anyone else, "The shadow has already begun to move."
Outside, the wind howled softly through the trees. The moonlight shone down stronger, resting on Mia's face as her breathing steadied.
Something inside her had changed.