The night had left Selene shaken, her body still humming with the remnants of the wolf that had clawed at her soul. She sat in her chamber, staring at her trembling hands, the faint silver glow in her eyes refusing to fade. She was no longer just Selene Hart. Something inside her had changed, something she couldn't deny.
The door opened, and Damien entered, his presence filling the room like fire. He studied her silently, his golden eyes soft but unyielding.
"You've felt it now," he said. "The wolf inside you. The bond between us. There is no turning back."
Selene's voice trembled. "I don't want this. I don't want to be bound to you."
Damien stepped closer, his jaw tight. "It isn't about want. It's about survival. The blood moon rises tomorrow night. If you don't embrace your wolf, if you don't accept the bond, the curse will consume me, and Victor will use that chaos to ignite war."
Selene's chest heaved. "Why should I care about your curse? About your war?"
Damien's gaze pierced her, his voice breaking with raw honesty. "Because it isn't just my curse. It's yours too. You are Moonborn. If you deny it, the wolf inside you will tear you apart. If you embrace it, you will become more than you ever imagined."
She turned away, tears burning her eyes. "My mother defied prophecy. She chose love. She chose freedom. Why can't I?"
Damien's voice was low, edged with pain. "Because fate always collects its debt. Elara delayed it, but she could not erase it. You are the debt's heir, Selene. You are the forbidden bride."
The words struck her like a blade. She clutched the pendant, her mother's legacy heavy against her chest. She wanted to scream, to run, and to deny everything. But the wolf inside her stirred, restless, hungry, demanding release.
Damien reached out, his hand hovering near hers. "Tomorrow night, under the blood moon, you must choose. Claim the bond, and we will break the curse together. Refuse, and the packs will burn."
Selene's tears spilled freely. She didn't want to choose. But she knew she would have to.
And as the moonlight bathed the manor, she realized that her mother's defiance had bought her time but not freedom. That freedom would have to be fought for, claimed, or surrendered.
The curse of the moon was upon her.
The day passed in uneasy silence. Blackthorne Manor seemed to hold its breath, its stone walls heavy with anticipation. Selene wandered through its endless corridors, her fingers brushing against portraits of stern men and fierce women, each bearing the same golden eyes that haunted her. The air was thick with history, with secrets she had yet to uncover.
She found herself drawn to a locked door at the end of a narrow hallway. The wood was ancient, scarred, and the iron handle cold beneath her touch. She pressed her ear against it and heard nothing, only silence, deeper than the rest of the manor.
Isolde appeared suddenly, her pale eyes sharp. "That room is not for you," she said softly, though her tone carried warning.
Selene straightened. "What's inside?"
Isolde's lips curved faintly. "The past. And the past is heavy."
Selene's chest tightened. She wanted to push, to demand answers, but the weight in Isolde's gaze silenced her. She turned away, though the locked door burned in her thoughts.
Later, in the great hall, Damien stood before the fire, his silhouette framed by its glow. His golden eyes found her instantly, as though he had been waiting.
"Tomorrow night," he said, his voice low, steady. "The blood moon rises. The ritual must be prepared."
Selene's throat tightened. "What ritual?"
Damien stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "The claiming. The bond must be sealed under the blood moon. Only then will the curse break."
Her stomach twisted. "And if I refuse?"
His jaw clenched, his voice edged with pain. "Then the curse consumes me. And Victor will use that chaos to ignite war. He is already gathering allies, whispering promises of power to those who would see me fall."
Selene's breath caught. She could almost feel Victor's shadow pressing against the manor walls, his ambition sharp and hungry.
Damien's hand hovered near hers, not touching, but close enough that she felt his warmth. "You must be ready. Tomorrow night, the choice will be yours. And whatever you decide will shape the fate of us all."
Selene turned away, her chest heaving. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be a prophecy, curse, or bride. But the wolf inside her stirred, restless, demanding.
And as the fire crackled, she realized the truth: the blood moon was coming, and with it, the moment she could no longer run.
The day before, the blood moon stretched long and heavy, each hour pressing down on Selene like a weight she could not shake. Blackthorne Manor seemed alive with whispers, its corridors echoing with secrets. She wandered restlessly, unable to quiet the storm inside her.
Her steps led her back to the locked door at the end of the narrow hallway. The iron handle was cold beneath her fingers, the wood scarred as though clawed by something desperate. She pressed her palm against it, and the pendant at her chest pulsed in response.
This time, the door yielded.
Inside was a chamber unlike the rest of the manor. Dust lay thick across shelves of scrolls and relics, the air heavy with age. At the center stood a stone altar, etched with runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. Selene's breath caught as she stepped closer, her eyes drawn to a single object resting atop the altar: a journal bound in worn leather.
She opened it carefully, the pages brittle with time. The handwriting was delicate, familiar. Her mother's.
Elara Hart.
Selene's chest tightened as she read: I have seen the prophecy. I have felt the bond. But I will not surrender my daughter to fate. If she must awaken, let her awaken free. Let her choose her own path, even if it defies the goddess herself.
Tears blurred her vision. Her mother had fought against destiny, had hidden her to protect her from this very moment. Yet here she was, standing in the heart of Blackthorne Manor, the blood moon rising, the bond tightening around her soul.
Behind her, the door creaked. Damien stood in the threshold, his golden eyes glowing faintly. He looked at the journal in her hands, his jaw tightening.
"You found it," he said softly.
Selene's voice broke. "She didn't want this for me. She wanted me to be free."
Damien stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "And yet fate has brought you here. Elara delayed prophecy, but she could not erase it. You are her legacy, Selene. You are the forbidden bride."
Selene's tears spilled freely, her hands trembling as she clutched the journal. "If I choose you, I betray her. If I refuse, I betray myself."
Damien's gaze softened, though his voice carried the weight of inevitability. "Tomorrow night, under the blood moon, you must decide. Not for me. Not for Victor. Not even for your mother. For yourself."
Outside, in the forest beyond the manor, a howl split the air sharply, commanding. Victor Hale.
Selene shuddered. The war was already moving closer.
The night descended heavy and alive, the forest cloaked in silver light. The blood moon rose slowly, its crimson glow staining the sky, casting shadows that seemed to breathe. Blackthorne Manor trembled with anticipation, its walls echoing with the weight of prophecy.
Selene stood in the great hall, her body tense, her heart pounding. The pendant at her chest burned hot, pulsing in rhythm with the moon. Her eyes carried a faint silver glow, her wolf restless beneath her skin. She felt it clawing, demanding release.
Damien stood before her, his golden eyes blazing, his presence overwhelming. He was dressed in ceremonial black, the crest of the Blackthorne line etched across his chest. His jaw was tight, his body taut, as though fighting the beast within.
"This is the moment," he said, his voice low, commanding. "The blood moon demands the bond. If we seal it, the curse breaks. If we refuse, it consumes me."
Selene's chest heaved. "And if I choose neither?"
Damien's gaze pierced her, his voice edged with pain. "Then Victor wins. He will claim you by force, and the packs will burn in war."
The air thickened, charged with primal energy. Selene's body trembled, her wolf surging, her senses exploding. She could hear the heartbeat of the forest, the howl of wolves gathering outside, and the crackle of fire in the hearth.
Suddenly, the doors of the great hall burst open. Victor Hale strode in, his dark eyes burning with fury, his voice sharp as a blade.
"She will not be yours, Blackthorne," he spat. "The prophecy is a lie. She is mine, promised since birth. And tonight, I will claim her."
Selene's breath caught, her body torn between fear and defiance. Damien's growl rumbled through the hall, deep and resonant, no longer human. His golden eyes blazed, his wolf clawing to the surface.
The blood moon burned overhead, its crimson light spilling across them all. Selene felt her body shudder, her nails lengthen, her breath break into ragged gasps. The wolf inside her surged, clawing, demanding release.
Victor's sneer twisted into a smile. "See? She awakens. And she will be mine."
Damien stepped forward, his voice a growl. "She will choose. Not you. Not me. Herself."
Selene's scream tore through the hall, half‑human, half‑wolf, her body caught between worlds. The pendant flared with silver light, casting shadows that danced across the walls.
And in that moment, Selene realized the truth: the blood moon was not just a prophecy. It was a choice.
Her choice.
The blood moon burned overhead, its crimson light spilling through the tall windows of the great hall. The air was thick, vibrating with primal energy. Selene stood trembling, her body caught between worlds, her eyes glowing silver, her nails sharp, her breath ragged. The wolf inside her clawed for release, demanding to be free.
Victor strode forward, his dark eyes blazing. "She is mine. Promised since birth. Tonight, I will claim her."
Damien's growl rumbled through the hall, deep and resonant, no longer human. His golden eyes blazed, his wolf clawing to the surface. "She will choose. Not you. Not me. Herself."
Selene's chest heaved, her body trembling as the pendant flared with silver light. The prophecy's weight pressed down on her, her mother's words echoing in her mind: Choose as your heart demands.
Victor's sneer twisted into a smile. "She awakens. And she will be mine."
Damien stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his voice a command. "You will not touch her."
The tension snapped. Victor lunged, his hand reaching for Selene. Damien moved instantly, his body shifting, his growl tearing through the hall. The clash was primal, raw Alpha against Alpha, destiny against ambition.
Selene screamed, her voice breaking into a howl. Her body shuddered, her wolf surging, her transformation pushing harder than ever before. Silver light spilled from her, casting shadows that danced across the walls.
The great hall trembled with the force of it. Wolves howled outside, their cries echoing through the forest. The blood moon burned brighter, demanding its debt.
And in that moment, Selene realized the truth: she was no longer a pawn between Damien and Victor. She was the storm. The forbidden bride. The one who would decide the fate of them all.
The great hall trembled beneath the blood moon's crimson glow. Selene's scream had already broken into a howl, her body shuddering as the wolf surged inside her. She staggered, clutching the pendant, her nails lengthening, her breath ragged.
Victor's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and possessive. "You see? She awakens. She is mine."
Damien's growl answered, primal and commanding. "She will never be yours."
But Selene barely heard them. The world around her blurred, her senses exploding. She could smell the smoke of the fire, the iron tang of blood in the air, the musk of wolves gathering outside. Every heartbeat in the room thundered in her ears: Damien's steady, Victor's erratic, her own wild and uneven.
Her vision flickered, silver light spilling from her eyes. She saw flashes: her mother standing defiant against the packs, Damien chained by shadows, Victor crowned in blood. Each vision clawed at her, pulling her in different directions.
Her humanity screamed for control, for reason, for escape. But her wolf demanded release, wild, untamed, hungry.
Selene fell to her knees, her hands trembling as claws threatened to break through her skin. "I can't," she gasped, her voice breaking.
Damien was there instantly, his voice a steady anchor. "You can. Breathe. Let it in. Don't resist."
Victor stepped closer, his sneer twisting. "She resists because she knows the truth. She belongs to me."
Selene's chest heaved, her tears spilling. "I don't belong to anyone!" she cried, her voice raw, edged with a growl that was not entirely human.
The pendant flared, silver light flooding the hall. The walls shook, the fire roared, the wolves outside howled in answer. Selene's body convulsed, caught between two worlds, her humanity clinging desperately, her wolf clawing to be free.
Damien's golden eyes locked onto hers, fierce yet tender. "You are both. Human and wolf. You are Moonborn. You are stronger than either of us."
Victor's voice rose, desperate and furious. "She is mine!"
Selene's scream tore through the hall, half‑human, half‑wolf, her body trembling violently. She collapsed, her hands clawing at the stone floor, her tears mixing with the silver glow spilling from her eyes.
And in that moment, she realized the truth: she was not just torn between Damien and Victor. She was torn between herself, the woman she had been, and the wolf she was becoming.
The blood moon demanded her choice. But her heart was not ready to give it.