Chapter 8:
Silver Moon Rising
The transformation didn't hurt.
That was the first difference I noticed. Where werewolves' bodies broke and reformed with sickening cracks and howls of pain, mine simply... shifted. Like water changing shape, natural as breathing.
One moment I stood on two legs. The next, silver fur rippled across my skin, my bones elongated, and I dropped to all fours. But unlike the werewolves surrounding me, I maintained perfect control, perfect awareness.
I was both human and wolf, neither and both.
The six werewolves backed away, their earlier confidence evaporating. Even in their wolf forms, they looked small compared to what I'd become. Where they stood perhaps four feet at the shoulder, I towered at nearly six. Where their fur was brown or black or grey, mine was pure silver, seeming to glow with its own light.
"Stand down," Zephyr commanded, though he hadn't shifted yet. His voice carried alpha authority, but it rolled off me like rain.
The twins—identical even in wolf form with their dark brown fur—circled me warily. The other three werewolves held back, waiting for orders or opportunity.
*Can you understand me?* Zephyr's voice echoed in my mind—the telepathic communication werewolves used in wolf form.
*Every word,* I replied, and felt his shock ripple through the mental link.
*Moonsingers are extinct. They've been extinct for over a century.*
*Apparently not.*
One of the twins lunged.
I moved faster than thought, my massive form surprisingly agile. I caught him mid-leap with one paw, slamming him into the ground hard enough to leave a crater. Not enough to seriously injure—I had that much control—but enough to make a point.
His brother snarled and attacked from behind. I spun, my tail (longer and more flexible than any werewolf's) wrapping around his throat and flinging him into a tree.
The three other werewolves decided to attack together.
That's when I discovered the second major difference.
Where werewolves were bound by the physical laws of their forms, I wasn't. My body moved in ways that shouldn't have been possible—joints bending at impossible angles, muscles stretching beyond normal limits. I flowed around their attacks like smoke, struck back like lightning.
In thirty seconds, all five attackers were on the ground, defeated but alive.
Only Zephyr remained standing, still in human form, watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"Magnificent," he breathed.
I padded closer to him, my massive form towering over his human one. He didn't flinch, didn't step back. Instead, he reached out slowly, telegraphing his movement, and placed his hand on my silver fur.
The contact sent electricity through both of us. I saw his pupils dilate, felt his heartbeat spike. But more than that, I felt something deeper—a recognition, a pull that had nothing to do with the mate bond werewolves spoke of and everything to do with power recognizing power.
"Change back," he said softly. "Before the others come. Before this gets complicated."
*It's already complicated.*
"Please."
The please did it. Not because he commanded, but because he asked.
The shift back was just as easy, just as natural. One moment, silver wolf; the next, I stood before him, human again but changed. I could feel the difference in every cell—the awakened power humming beneath my skin, ready to be called upon.
The five werewolves were recovering, shifting back to human form with the usual painful sounds. The twins looked at me with a mixture of fear and fascination. The others just looked terrified.
"No one speaks of this," Zephyr commanded, his alpha power crashing over the group like a wave. "Not to anyone. Understood?"
They nodded, unable to resist a direct alpha command.
"Go. The Hunt continues."
They fled, leaving us alone in the moonlit forest.
"That was incredibly stupid," Zephyr said once they were gone. "Do you have any idea what you've just revealed?"
"That I'm not human?"
"That you're something that shouldn't exist. Something that threatens the entire power structure our world is built on." He ran his hands through his hair, agitated. "Moonsingers were killed for a reason, Aria. They were too powerful. They made both humans and werewolves obsolete."
"Maybe that's exactly what this world needs."
He stared at me. "You don't understand—"
A new howl cut through the night. Then another. And another. Dozens of them, all converging on our location.
"The Hunt Master," Zephyr cursed. "Someone alerted him to an anomaly. We need to go. Now."
"I can fight—"
"Not him. Not the entire academy's worth of werewolves. And definitely not while maintaining your secret." He grabbed my hand. "Trust me or don't, but if you stay here, you'll either die or become a lab experiment. Neither option appeals to me."
Something in his voice, in his eyes, made me believe him.
We ran.
He led me through paths I hadn't known existed, through shortcuts and hidden passages that seemed to fold space itself. Behind us, the howls grew closer, more numerous. The entire academy was joining the Hunt, and I was no longer hunter but prey.
"Here," Zephyr pulled me into what looked like a solid wall but turned out to be an illusion—a hidden entrance to a cave system beneath the academy.
The darkness was absolute, but my enhanced vision pierced it easily. Zephyr pulled out his phone, using its light to navigate, leading me deeper into the tunnels.
"What is this place?"
"Old bunkers from the war. The academy was built on a military installation. These tunnels run for miles." He paused at an intersection, choosing the left path without hesitation. "Very few know they exist."
"How do you?"
"Because I make it my business to know every secret this place holds. Or I thought I did." He glanced back at me. "You're the one secret I didn't see coming."
We descended deeper, the air growing colder, older. Finally, he stopped in a circular chamber with multiple exits. Strange symbols covered the walls—similar to the ones in the book he'd given me.
"We can wait here until the Hunt ends at sunrise," he said. "They won't find us this deep."
"Won't they notice you're missing?"
"I'm a prince. I do what I want." He sat against one wall, patting the ground beside him. "We have hours. Want to tell me how a supposed orphan is actually a Moonsinger?"
I sat across from him instead of beside him, maintaining distance. "I didn't know until tonight. I mean, I suspected something was different, but..."
"Your grandmother knew."
It wasn't a question. I nodded. "She bound my power somehow. Hid what I was. Even from me."
"Smart woman. If anyone had known..." He shook his head. "The last known Moonsinger was killed a hundred and thirty years ago. She was experimented on for decades before they finally let her die. Both sides wanted to unlock the secret of their power."
"Both sides?"
"Werewolves wanted to eliminate the silver weakness. Humans wanted to gain the ability to shift without the moon's pull. Neither succeeded, but they tortured her trying."
The casual way he spoke of such horror chilled me.
"Is that what would happen to me?"
"If the wrong people found out? Yes." His eyes met mine. "Which is why no one can know. The twins won't talk—they can't disobey my direct command. The others were too panicked to understand what they saw. But if you shift again, if you reveal yourself..."
"I know."
We sat in silence for a moment. Above us, faintly, I could hear the Hunt continuing—howls and screams and the sound of capture.
"The book you gave me," I said. "You knew what I was even then?"
"I suspected. Your scent is... unique. Not quite human, not quite wolf, but something else. Something that called to me in a way I didn't understand." He laughed, but it was bitter. "The irony is, I was right about you being the key to something. I just didn't realize it would be this."
"What do you mean?"
"The peace treaty is failing. Has been for years. Werewolves grow restless under the restrictions. Humans grow resentful of their perceived inferior status. War is coming, whether in five years or fifty. But a Moonsinger..." He looked at me with something like hope. "Moonsingers were mediators. Peacekeepers. You could be the bridge between worlds."
"Or I could be the match that lights the powder keg."
"That too."
Another silence fell. I could feel the weight of what I'd become, what I'd always been, settling on my shoulders like a lead cloak.
"What are the princes?" I asked suddenly. "You and Kaine and the twins—you're different from other werewolves. Stronger. More... more everything."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Perceptive. We're what happens when bloodlines are kept pure for too many generations. Enhanced strength, speed, healing. But also..." he tapped his temple, "instability. The wolf is stronger in us, harder to control. We're weapons as much as we are princes."
"Is that why you're really here? At the academy?"
"Partially. Also to learn control. To find mates strong enough to dilute the bloodline before it destroys us." He looked at me intently. "Ironic that the strongest match for any of us would be you—the one person we can never claim."
The air between us grew charged, heavy with unspoken possibilities.
"Why can't you?"
"Because claiming a Moonsinger would be declaring war on every established power structure. The other alphas would unite to destroy us both. The humans would see it as the ultimate betrayal. And the few who remember what Moonsingers were capable of..." He shook his head. "They'd burn the world to ash before letting your kind rise again."
"So what do we do?"
"We pretend tonight never happened. You go back to being human. I go back to being a prince. We finish our project, graduate, and never speak of this again."
"That's your plan? Pretend?"
"Do you have a better one?"
I didn't.
Above us, a particularly loud howl echoed—victorious, triumphant. Another human caught.
"Sophie," I whispered, suddenly remembering my friend. "Is she—"
"Safe, last I heard. Hiding in the library with four others. Rowan's been circling them for an hour but hasn't moved in yet."
"Why not?"
"Because he's waiting for something more interesting." Zephyr's expression darkened. "The twins fixate. Once something catches their attention, they don't let go. And you, little Moonsinger, have definitely caught their attention."
"I can handle them."
"Not without revealing yourself. And once that secret's out, there's no putting it back." He stood, pacing the small chamber. "You need to be more careful. No more displays of power. No more intervening in Hunts. Be boring, be human, be invisible."
"Is that what you want? For me to hide what I am?"
He stopped pacing, his back to me. "What I want doesn't matter. What matters is keeping you alive."
"Why do you care?"
He turned, and for a moment, his mask slipped. I saw something raw and vulnerable in his eyes, something that made my heart race.
"Because in three hundred years of existence, you're the first thing that's made me feel alive."
The confession hung between us, dangerous and electric.
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He checked it, his expression going cold.
"What is it?"
"The Hunt Master found evidence of your transformation. Fur that doesn't match any registered werewolf. They're calling in specialists from the Capital."
My blood turned to ice. "How long do we have?"
"Three days. Maybe four. After that..." He met my eyes. "After that, everything changes."
"So much for pretending."
"We'll figure something out. We have to." He moved toward one of the exits. "Come on. The Hunt ends in an hour. We need to get you back before anyone notices you're missing from the captured or free lists."
I followed him through the tunnels, my mind racing. Three days to figure out how to hide what I was from specialists trained to detect anomalies. Three days before my world either exploded or imploded.
But as we emerged from the tunnels into the pre-dawn darkness, I realized something else: I didn't want to hide. The power singing through my veins, the strength I'd felt, the ability to stand against werewolves as an equal—I wanted more of it.
The Hunt had awakened something in me, and there was no going back to sleep.
"Aria," Zephyr said softly as we neared the academy buildings. "Whatever happens, whatever you have to do to survive, know this—you're not alone. Not anymore."
It should have been comforting.
Instead, it felt like a promise of war.....