THE MOON REMEMBERS BLOOD

The world slowed.

I do not mean in the way poets speak when they write about battle and silence. I mean everything around me stretched, paused, deepened. The wind moved like syrup. My blood, hot and fast, became an echo inside my skull. I heard Aria scream behind me, but the sound faded beneath the thudding rhythm of my heart.

Veyran stood before me, tall and unbothered, his pale hands glowing with that cursed light. Magic thrummed through his veins. He had not come to parley. He had come to break us.

And I would not let him.

I lunged.

My claws sliced through the air. Veyran moved with a grace that defied logic. He glided rather than stepped, barely shifting weight as he evaded my first strike. His cloak curled around him like living smoke. Then he retaliated. Fast. A bolt of cold fire struck my shoulder. Pain flared and bit deep.

I did not falter.

I charged again, this time swiping low. My claws caught fabric and flesh. Black blood dripped from his side. He hissed, but his smile remained. That smile... it was not made by lips. It was ancient. Worn like armor. As if he had lived through a thousand failed wars and still believed he would win.

He was wrong.

Behind us, the battle raged.

Wolves howled as steel clanged. The scent of fire mixed with blood. My warriors held their line, defending the stronghold with everything they had. Talia led the flank near the south wall. I saw her strike down a Nightborn with one smooth, beautiful motion. Jarek held the gate, his axe cleaving flesh and bone. Our pack fought like legends.

But it was Aria I watched.

She stood near the broken edge of the tower, arms raised, her silver flame licking the air. She was not afraid. Not anymore. The fire came to her call now, like a loyal beast. She aimed it with precision, and each strike brought down a vampire. She was not born into war, but she had become its fury.

I wanted to protect her.

But I also knew she no longer needed saving.

Veyran summoned chains of light.

They hissed through the air, binding my limbs, biting into fur and flesh. I growled and struggled, the pain searing, but I would not bow. Not to him. Never.

He stepped closer.

You are strong, he said. Not with words. With thought. His voice slid into my mind like oil, cold and suffocating. But you are still bound by flesh and fear. I am eternal. I am the blood of the first night.

I bared my fangs.

Then bleed like it.

I twisted and broke the chains. Pain tore through me, but I was free. I tackled him hard, and we both went crashing through the tower wall. Stone shattered around us. We hit the ground below, tumbling through dust and ruin.

I rolled to my feet first.

He rose slower this time.

I had drawn real blood. 

Aria reached me before he could strike again. Her hands glowed with fire, and for a moment, she looked like something not of this world. Her gaze was locked on Veyran.

Stay back, I growled.

But she shook her head.

No. This is my fight too.

We stood together.

Wolf and flame.

He looked at us, amused.

So this is love. How quaint. How fragile.

It is not fragile, she said. It is the one thing that keeps you from winning.

Veyran raised both arms. The ground split beneath us. Shadows poured upward like water, forming the shapes of beasts. Twisted, broken things. Not alive. Not dead. His creations. His mockery of life.

Fight them, I said. Do not hold back.

She nodded.

And then we unleashed hell.

The battle blurred into fire and teeth.

I tore through one creature after another. My claws raked through bone and shadow. Aria lit the sky with her magic, every pulse burning a hole in the darkness. Around us, my wolves regrouped. They pushed back the tide. Jarek fought beside me again, his axe catching the moonlight. Talia's war cry shook the earth.

For the first time in many moons, I felt the tide turn.

But Veyran was not finished.

He summoned a blade of darkness. It pulsed with veins of red. Old magic. Forbidden magic. He pointed it at Aria, and I saw the look in his eyes.

He meant to kill her.

He feared her.

That was when I knew her power was real.

And I would never let him have her.

I lunged between them as he struck.

The blade pierced my side. Fire licked my lungs. I coughed blood.

But I did not fall.

Aria screamed. Her power exploded. The sky split open with white fire. Veyran was thrown backward, his cloak aflame. For the first time, he looked uncertain.

The Flame has awakened, he whispered. Then he vanished into shadow.

Coward, I growled, falling to one knee.

Aria caught me.

No, she cried. Stay with me.

I am here, I whispered.

But darkness pulled at the edge of my mind. I could hear my heartbeat slowing. Hear the cries of my pack. Smell the blood in the earth. See the fire dying in the tower above us.

I was slipping.

And then I saw her face.

Her tears.

And I chose to live.

I awoke three days later.

My chamber was dim. The scent of herbs clung to the air. Aria sat beside my bed, eyes sunken but awake. She smiled when she saw me stir.

You are awake.

I tried to speak. Pain gripped my chest. My body was wrapped in bandages. Healing slow.

You nearly died, she said softly. But you stayed. You fought for me.

Always, I said, my voice a whisper.

She took my hand.

He will come again, she said.

I know.

She looked at me, and in her eyes I saw something I had feared to hope for.

I am not afraid anymore.

And I believed her.

In the days that followed, our stronghold became a fortress once more. The scent of fear had faded, replaced by resolve. The walls were mended. The warriors healed. We buried our dead with honor, their names carved into stone.

And Aria trained.

Every day, she climbed the cliffs and summoned the fire. She learned to bend it. Shape it. Feed it without letting it devour her. The pack watched in awe. Even the elders whispered that prophecy was no longer myth.

The Flame had returned.

But she was not what legend had promised.

She was more.

Talia approached me one night.

She stood beneath the moonlight, her armor bloodstained and her eyes sharp.

You love her, she said.

Yes, I answered.

It will not be easy.

Nothing worth protecting ever is.

She nodded.

Then she is ours. The pack will defend her. Even against the gods.

Thank you, sister.

Do not thank me. Just win.

We sent scouts west.

We found nothing.

Veyran had vanished again, leaving only whispers in the trees. But I knew better. He was not retreating. He was waiting. Watching. Preparing.

This was not over.

It had only just begun.

One night, Aria stood at the balcony with me, wrapped in a cloak of fur. The moon hung low, full and bright. She looked out at the forest.

Will there ever be peace? she asked.

Someday, I said. When the world forgets the sound of war.

And if it never does?

Then we fight until our last breath.

She nodded, quiet for a moment.

Do you ever wonder why me? Why I have this fire?

Every day, I said. But I no longer question it. You are who you are. That is enough.

She leaned into me.

I do not want to become a weapon.

You are not.

Then what am I?

My answer came easily.

Hope.

Later that night, I dreamed.

I stood in a clearing. Snow fell. The moon hung above, pale and silent.

My father stood across from me.

He was younger than I remembered, his eyes stern but kind.

You have done well, son, he said.

I have done what I must.

And you have loved?

Yes.

Then you are truly Alpha.

The dream faded.

And I woke with peace in my chest.

But peace never stays long in a world ruled by shadows.

And far across the sea, beneath a cathedral built on bone, Veyran knelt before a throne of ash.

Another figure stepped from the darkness.

Older than Veyran. Hungrier.

The true king of the Nightborn.

The one even he served.

She has awakened, Veyran said. But she is not ready.

Then break her, the king replied.

Yes, my lord.

The war is coming.

And this time, they would bring more than fire.