Secrets in the Moonlight

Sera clutched the silver knife, counting the minutes until midnight. The tower room felt like a cage, but now she had hope. Someone was coming. Three soft knocks made her jump. Sera rushed to the door, pushing her ear against it. "Who's there?" she whispered. "A friend," came the reply. "Use the key." With shaking hands, Sera slid the tiny silver key into the lock. It shouldn't have worked—it was far too small. 

But the moment it hit the keyhole, the silver melted like water, flowing into the mechanism. The lock clicked open. Standing in the hallway was Lady Vessa, her silver-white hair glowing in the darkness. "How did you—" "Shh," Vessa pressed a finger to her lips. "We have little time." She slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. Sera backed away. "You disappeared at the border. Darrow said you'd be killed if found here." "Darrow is right," Vessa said. "Ronan would happily hang my head on his wall. 

But some things are worth the risk." "Like what?" "Like you." Vessa's violet eyes studied Sera's face. "The last Silverblood." Sera felt a chill. "Everyone keeps saying that. What does it mean?" Vessa moved to the window, looking at the nearly-full moon. "It means you're not who they told you are. It means your mother wasn't just any dog." "My mother?" Sera's heart raced. "You knew her?" "Yes." Vessa turned, moonlight putting her face half in shadow. "She was my dearest friend." "Tell me about her," Sera begged. "Please." "Her name was Lyra. She was beautiful, powerful, and kind." Vessa's voice eased with memory. "And she was hunted for what ran in her veins." "Silver blood," Sera whispered. Vessa nodded. "The oldest wolf breed. Some call it cursed. Others call it blessed. The truth is somewhere between." "But what does it do? Why does Ronan want it so badly?" "Power, child. Raw power." Vessa took Sera's hands. "Your blood links to the earth itself. That's why the silver reacts to you. That's how you fled the dungeon. That's how the collar changed." Sera's mind raced. "The queen—she knew?" "Queen Myra has always known. She's not your stepmother, Sera. She's your aunt. Your mother's sister." The room seemed to spin. "She lied to me my whole life?" "To control you. To keep your power hidden." Vessa's grip tightened. "But no more. The moon gets full. Your power awakens." Outside, a wolf howled. Vessa stressed. "I can't stay," she said. "But I can help you escape." "Tonight?" Sera asked hopefully. "No. The castle is too aware. And you're too weak." Vessa reached into her coat and pulled out a smooth stone. It was black as night but with bands of silver that moved like living mist. "This is moonstone. Ancient. Sacred to your bloodline." She pressed it into Sera's hand. 

The stone felt warm, almost alive. The silver patterns spun faster at her touch. "What does it do?" Sera asked. "It amplifies what's already inside you." Vessa moved toward the door. "Hold it in moonlight. Let it touch your blood. The rest will come easily." "Wait!" Sera grabbed Vessa's arm. "You can't just leave me with questions! How do I use my power? How do I escape?" Vessa's eyes softened. "You've always had the power, child. Since the day you were born. Why do you think they kept you hidden? Why do you think your mate rejected you?" "Elias rejected me because he wanted Liora," Sera said bitterly. "Did he?" Vessa raised an eyebrow. "Or was he forced to choose? Some bonds can be managed, especially by those who fear what they cannot control." Footsteps echoed in the stairs. Vessa froze. "Guards," she hissed. "I must go." "But—" "Three days, Sera. Use the stone. 

Find your strength." Vessa pressed something else into her hand—a small bottle of clear liquid. "If you're caught, drink this. It will make you look dead. They'll take you outside the castle walls for burial." "That's your getaway plan? Fake my death?" "Only as a last resort." Vessa reached the door. "Trust your blood, Seraphina Vale. It knows things your mind has forgotten." The footsteps grew louder. Vessa slipped out, silent as a ghost. The lock clicked back into place as if it had never been opened. Sera stood alone, holding the moonstone and vial. What had Vessa meant about Elias? About her mother? About bonds being manipulated? She moved to the window, holding the stone up to the moonlight. The silver patterns danced faster, brighter. The stone pulsed with energy. Sera bit her lip, drawing a drop of blood. Something told her to press the blood to the stone. The moment her blood touched the moonstone, it flared with dazzling light. The silver patterns spread from the stone onto her skin, running up her arm like liquid mercury. They formed symbols—the same strange marks from her cuffs, from her dreams. Her view blurred. The room faded away. 

She stood in a forest area. A woman with dark hair and silver eyes—so like her own—held a baby wrapped in white fur. The moon shone straight overhead. "She must live," the woman—her mother?—whispered. "Promise me, Vessa." Lady Vessa, younger but recognizable, nodded through tears. "I promise, Lyra." "Take her to Myra. Make her swear to hide the child's true nature." "Myra cannot be trusted," Vessa asserted. "She's blood. She'll protect blood." Lyra kissed the baby's face. "Goodbye, my little Seraphina. When the time comes, remember who you are." Men's voices shouted in the distance. Howls filled the air. "Go!" Lyra pushed the baby into Vessa's arms. "They've found us." Vessa fled with the child. Lyra turned to face her hunters, eyes sparkling silver in the darkness. The vision vanished. Sera gasped, dropping to her knees. The moonstone dimmed, but the silver markings stayed on her skin, faintly glowing before slowly fading away. "Mother," she whispered, tears running down her face. The pain of loss crashed over her—not just for the mother she never knew, but for the life that had been stolen from her. The truth that had been buried. Her hands clenched into fists. Anger replaced sadness. Queen Myra had lied. Elias had betrayed her—willingly or not. Ronan wanted to use her for her blood. And in three days, he planned to bind her to him forever. 

Sera looked at the silver knife, then at the moonstone. Her mind raced with half-formed ideas. The stone had shown her the past, but could it help her now? She pressed it against her heart and closed her eyes. "Show me the way out," she whispered. The stone grew warm against her skin. In her thoughts, she saw flashes—the copper-haired servant passing something to Darrow, a hidden door behind a tapestry, a tunnel beneath the castle. Her eyes snapped open. The moonstone felt heavy somehow, charged with purpose. A plan formed in her mind. Not just to run, but to understand. To take her birthright. She hid the stone and vial under a loose floorboard she found near the bed. The metal dagger she kept under her pillow. 

Tomorrow, she would begin. She would find the copper-haired girl. She would learn what Darrow knew. She would learn to use the power in her blood. And when the full moon rose in three days, Ronan Thornfell would learn that the wolf he thought he'd trapped was actually a wolf he should have feared. Outside her window, clouds floated across the moon. Far away, a wolf howled—the sound lonely and haunting. But it wasn't a cry of sadness. It was a call to guns.