The silence after battle was always the loudest.
Lunar's great hall lay in ruin, the once vibrant sanctuary now a graveyard of shattered glass and scorched air. Smoke curled toward the fractured ceiling, carrying the metallic scent of blood and something older—the sharp, clean tang of burned silver.
The remnants of the fight clung to every wall, to every breath. Rosa stood in the middle of it all, trembling. Her skin still hummed faintly, a ghost of the light that had torn through her veins only moments ago.
The glow had faded, its memory yet residually thrumming under her skin like a heartbeat that was not entirely her own.
"Don't move," Marshal said softly. His voice carried that quiet authority, able to steady storms. He crouched beside a wounded pack member, issuing an order that needed no words. Instinctively, the others obeyed, hierarchy of survival reasserting itself.
Rosa swallowed hard, her throat dry. "What happened to me?"
Marshal's eyes cut to her, dark and impenetrable. "You woke," he said. "And the world felt it."
She wanted to argue, wanted to demand logic, but her body betrayed her. The power had drained her utterly, leaving her to shake and weaken. Every nerve in her body felt stretched taut, the most part of her buzzing with the energy that didn't belong to her.
He crossed the distance between them in two strides and caught her just as her knees buckled. "Easy," he murmured, steadying her against his chest. "Breathe, Rosa."
His warmth began to seep into her, grounding her against the chaos. She could smell the faint trace of smoke and pine on his skin-a scent which made her pulse run slow despite the surrounding destruction.
"You burned half the floor," he said softly. "You should be dead, and yet—"
"Yet I'm not," she finished, her voice barely a whisper.
He met her gaze. "No. You are not.
For a split second, the air between them flipped. No longer about any kind of fear, the tension was about what they both felt but didn't dare name.
A voice cut through the silence from across the room. "Marshal, the injured are contained. We lost three, sir. The others will survive."
It was the silver-haired elder, his tone somber but unwavering. His gaze slid toward Rosa, and something there flickered in his expression, respect or fear perhaps. "And her?"
Marshal's hand tightened on her arm. "She's coming with me."
"She needs to be taken to the healer," replied the elder.
"She will be," Marshal said. "In the chamber."
The elder wavered a moment, then finally nodded his head. "As commanded."
The chamber. Whispers of its existence had reached Rosa's ears. It was a place of oaths and bloodlines, forbidden to all but the highest ranks. The notion of entering it twirled her stomach, yet a strange pull inside beckoned her toward it.
Marshal guided her deeper into the maze of corridors beneath Lunar. The more they went, the cooler it got-the air thick with stone and the hint of herbs.
Candles lined up on walls, their flames wavering in one motion, as if bowing to their passing.
As soon as they arrived at the heavy iron doors, Marshal pressed his hand on the center. The metal responded immediately, glowing faintly under his touch before unlocking with a soft, ringing click.
The chamber inside was unlike anything Rosa had ever imagined. Ancient symbols were carved along the walls, pulsating with life in a faint manner.
A pool of water, of silver hue, shimmered at the center, reflecting fractured ripples of candlelight. And it was so beautiful and so terrifying all at once.
There, the healer awaited them: a lady with garments of flowing linen and hair threaded with moonlight. Her eyes were sharp, knowing, as she approached Rosa.
"So," said the healer, looking her up and down, "the Moonblood stirs again. I never thought I'd live to see it."
Rosa blinked. "Moonblood?"
A small smile that didn't reach her eyes curled on the healer's lips. "You are its vessel now. What you released upstairs was not a mistake. It was your first awakening."
Marshal's jaw tightened. "You confirm it?"
The healer reached for Rosa's hand. "I don't need to. Look."
Rosa's skin shimmered faintly where the healer touched, the light tracing delicate patterns along her veins like silver fire. She gasped, trying to pull back, but the healer held firm.
"The mark has claimed her," the healer said in a soft tone. "She is of the line that vanished with the last blood moon."
Rosa shook her head. "Belongs? No. I don't belong to anyone."
Marshal's voice was even, but there was steel behind it. "No one said you did."
The healer's gaze flicked between them, then softened. "She'll need to rest. The awakening takes its toll. But understand this, Marshal-the light that lives in her now can heal, or it can destroy. Which path it takes will depend on who reaches her first."
He nodded once; his face was impassive. "Then we'll make damn sure it's us."
When the healer had gone, the room was silent once more. There was only the soft hum of the silver pool. Rosa sat on the edge of a low stone bench, her body shaking with exhaustion.
Marshal stood a few feet away, watching her.
After a very long silence, he said, "You're angry.
"I'm scared," she said, correcting. "I no longer know what I am."
He crossed to her slowly, his boots echoing softly against the stone. "You're still Rosa."
"Am I?" she whispered. "Because it doesn't feel like it. It feels like something else is inside me, waiting for a moment to take over."
He hunched before her, his eyes dark and intense. "Then we'll make sure it doesn't."
Her breath hitched. "You sound so certain."
"I have to be."
Their gazes met, and in that heart-stopping instant, it was as if the room melted away. The world outside could have burned, and neither would have noticed.
"You said the one with the red eyes," she began, voice shaking. "Who was he?"
Marshal's face turned grave. "Someone who should have died centuries ago. A creature who feeds on what you now carry."
Her blood ran cold. "He wants my power."
"He wants more than that." Marshal's gaze flicked to her lips, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He wants to claim you. To bind the Moonblood to his will."
Her pulse quickened. "Can he?"
"Not while I'm breathing."
She so much wanted to believe him, but deep down she knew this fight was bigger than either of them. "What happens to me now?"
He hesitated, then reached out, brushing his thumb along her wrist. The touch sent a shiver through her. "You learn control. You learn to live with the power, not against it. And you trust me to keep you alive."
"I don't even know if I can still trust myself," she whispered.
Marshal leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Then trust me for both of us."
The silence wedged between them heavy and fragile. Rosa closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel the steadiness in his presence.
Then, just as her heartbeat started to slow, she heard it.
A whisper. Soft and distant. A voice threading through her thoughts like smoke.
Moonborn.
Her eyes flew open. The room was vacant except for Marshal, who stared at her with sudden concern.
"What is it?" he asked.
Rosa's voice was barely a whisper. "Someone just spoke to me."
"Who?"
She stared at the silver pool, its surface rippling though the air was still. The whisper came again, faint but unmistakable.
Moonborn, remember.
Rosa's pulse spiked. "It's inside my head."
Marshal leaned in closer, his hand on her shoulder. "Rosa—what did it say?"
She turned to him, her eyes wide and bright with reflected light.
"It said… remember."
The water in the pool began to glow brighter, the symbols on the walls pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The air thickened, alive with energy. Marshal's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Then something's waking with you." And somewhere in the shadows of the chamber, the whisper answered—soft, cold, and hungry. We have been waiting for you.