The air in the mountain village felt different that night. Smoke from dozens of fire pits clung to the cold air, weaving with the sharp bite of pine. Beyond the walls, the wind carried faint echoes of howls — distant, but close enough to remind everyone why they were here.
The village itself was no ordinary settlement. Nestled in a steep mountain basin, it was a natural fortress. Sheer cliffs rose on three sides, jagged and sheer, and only two narrow passes cut through the rock to allow entry. Both had been fortified — one with iron-spiked barricades, the other with timber palisades that could be set ablaze if needed. Wolves had dug trenches lined with sharpened stakes, choke points designed to funnel any feral horde. Scouts were already posted along the ridges, keeping a constant watch.
It was the kind of place that could hold back an army if well-defended. And yet, as the full moon neared and the howls of ferals carried closer on the wind, even a fortress felt fragile.
The survivors had been given homes in one cluster of wooden lodges. Wolves came and went in their dual forms, moving with quiet purpose. Patrols doubled. Spears stacked by the gates, bows strung and checked, rifles leaned against the walls. Every adult in the village looked ready for a fight, even as children played in the snow-dusted courtyard, their laughter carrying uneasily in the tense night.
Tomorrow would bring change. Everyone knew it.
---
Clint, Kara, and Elise walked at the edge of the firelight, their breath misting in the cold.
Clint puffed out his chest. "I'm telling you, it's going to be a bear. Look at me. Broad shoulders, big bones — it makes sense."
Kara rolled her eyes. "Makes sense? You think spirits care about muscles? You'll probably end up as a field mouse."
Elise smirked, her voice sharp. "Field mice are clever, Kara. I'd say rat for Clint. Or pig."
Clint spluttered. "Oi! That's not funny. I'll be a bear. You'll see."
Jonah, walking close to Torvee, whispered with a shy smile, "Maybe I'll be a snake."
Torvee glanced down at him, her jaw tightening. She hated how serious his voice was. "Jonah, you're too young. The elder said—"
"I don't care." His eyes, wide and determined, locked on hers. "I want to be like you. Strong. Not just a scared little boy waiting for others to save him."
Torvee stopped, kneeling so her face met his. The firelight flickered against her dark hair and pale eyes. "Jonah, being a shifter isn't just strength. It's responsibility. It's danger. It's… forever. Do you understand?"
Jonah swallowed, nodding — but the stubborn set of his mouth said he didn't care about the warnings.
---
Elara sat with Corin near one of the fires, the healer checking the scar on Corin's shoulder where the feral had bitten her.
"It should have killed me," Corin said softly, her fingers brushing the faint mark. "Everyone else who's bitten… turns."
"You didn't," Elara said firmly. "That's what matters."
Corin's green aura shimmered faintly in Elara's vision, pulsing brighter when her friend frowned. She had begun to notice it more often — how auras flickered with emotion. "I feel different," Corin admitted. "Not just stronger. Like something inside me woke up when the bite didn't take."
Elara thought of the whispers — fae blood, immunity, secrets even Corin didn't know about herself. But she only squeezed her friend's hand. "Different doesn't mean bad."
Corin smiled faintly, though her eyes still carried unease.
---
Later, when the others drifted off to their lodges, Caleb found Elara standing alone by the palisade. The moon hovered fat and pale above the peaks.
"You're not telling me something," he said quietly.
Elara stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Caleb pressed, "you've been different since the castle. Since… the bite. People whisper about you. Lunara. Daughter of the Moon." His jaw clenched. "I don't care about their stories, but I need to know the truth. You and me — we've always been honest."
Elara's throat tightened. "Caleb, I… I don't know what I am. Not yet. If I told you anything, it'd just be guesses."
He looked at her for a long time, his eyes shadowed. Finally, he nodded. "Just don't shut me out. Promise me that."
She forced a smile. "Promise."
But inside, she wasn't sure she could keep it.
---
When Caleb left, another presence lingered near the wall. Riven stepped from the shadows, tall and broad, golden aura faintly glowing like embers.
"You carry too much weight," he said simply.
Elara startled, but his voice wasn't unkind. "Everyone keeps looking at me," she whispered. "Like I'm supposed to know what to do. I don't."
Riven's gaze held hers, steady and unflinching. "No one knows what to do until the moment comes. Strength is forged in the choosing. You've already chosen — to protect. That's enough."
Her heart thudded. In the firelight, his body looked carved from stone, every line of him both power and control. She thought of the dream she'd had — his hands pulling her from nightmare, his body like a god's. Heat flushed her cheeks.
He didn't move closer, but his words brushed against her like a touch. "Remember, Elara. You are more than you know."
---
Later, the chosen survivors — Clint, Kara, Elise — gathered in the main square with Elara, Caleb, Corin, Torvee, and Jonah. The shifter elder stood before them, his face lined with shadow. A bowl of herbs smouldered at his feet, the sharp smoke curling skyward.
"The spirit draught will be brewed tonight," he said. "At dawn, you three will drink." His gaze swept over Clint, Kara, Elise. "It will burn through you. It will tear you apart until your spirit and body bind as one. And you will never be the same."
Clint smirked nervously. Kara's jaw tightened. Elise lifted her chin.
The elder's voice deepened. "Know this — the spirit does not bend to desire. It does not grant what you want. It gives what you need. A fox, a rat, a snake, a bird. Whatever truth lies inside you, that is what will be revealed."
A hush fell over the survivors. Even the wolves nearby seemed to listen.
Then the elder's eyes found Jonah. "And you, boy. Do not ask again"
Jonah's face flushed red. He looked away, tears bright in his eyes. Torvee placed a hand on his shoulder, protective, fierce.
The elder straightened. "Sleep if you can. At dawn, you will drink. And by the time the moon rises tomorrow, three lives will be forever changed."
---
The survivors drifted back to their lodges, silent now. The fire pits crackled low, sparks spiralling into the cold night.
Elara stood a long while at the palisade, staring at the horizon where the mountains cut sharp against the sky. The moon was nearly full, silver light spilling across the village, touching every roof and every face.
She shivered. Not from the cold — but from the knowledge that tomorrow, nothing would be the same.
"By the next moon," she thought, "the world changes again."