Chapter Seven
The High Luna’s voice cut through the silence of the grand hall, each word laced with authority and something softer–curiosity, perhaps.
I knelt before her, the weight of countless eyes pressing down on me. My fingers curled into the fabric of my cloak, damp with the snowmelt from our journey. Ayla’s small hand rested in mine, her grip weak but present.”
The command echoed in my mind, pulling me back to a different time, a different place.
Many Moons Ago
“Raise your head please ”
My voice trembled as I knelt beside the bloodied figure sprawled beneath the frost–laced pines.
The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting silver shadows over his torn cloak and the crimson–soaked snow. His eyes fluttered open, revealing storm–gray irises clouded with pain and confusion.
For a moment, he seemed to see through me, as if I were a ghost conjured by his fading consciousness. “You’re safe now,” I whispered, reaching out to brush a matted lock of hair from his forehead.”
“I won’t let the darkness take you.”
I had been sixteen, restless and defiant, the daughter of Alpha Gideon of Stormclaw.
The treaty hunt in the Ravenlands was supposed to be a diplomatic affair, a chance for rival packs to showcase unity. But I had grown weary of the pomp and pretense.}
Slipping away from my guards, I ventured deeper into the woods, seeking solitude beneath the ancient trees. That’s when I found him.
He lay crumpled in the riverbed, his body battered and broken. Blood seeped from gashes along his ribs, and his leg was twisted at an unnatural angle. His breathing was shallow, each inhale a ragged gasp.
“Help…” he rasped, his voice barely audible over the babbling brook.}
Without hesitation, I tore strips from my cloak, fashioning makeshift bandages to staunch the bleeding.?
I gathered herbs from the forest floor–comfrey for the wounds, willow bark for the pain–and brewed a bitter poultice. As I worked, he watched me with wary eyes, the tension in his frame slowly easing.}
“What’s your name?” I asked, pressing a cool cloth to his fevered brow.
“Damien,” he replied after a pause. “Of the Nightfang Pack.”
I stiffened at the name, recalling tales of the Night Fangs‘ ferocity and ambition. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw not a ruthless warrior.}
I hesitated when he asked for my name, the truth threatening to spill forth.
“Selene,” I said finally.
“Daughter of a wealthy gold merchant.“}
It wasn’t entirely a lie. My father’s coffers were vast, though his wealth was measured in territory and warriors, not coins.
Darnien accepted the explanation without question, His eyes widened, a flicker of recognition passing through them.
?
“Then you shouldn’t be here,” he murmured.
“It’s dangerous.”
“So is leaving you to die,” I retorted, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips.
He introduced himself as Damien, a lone wolf from a distant pack. I
1 brought him to a secluded cabin that once belonged to my mother. Over the following days, I tended to Damien’s wounds &
He spoke little of his past, but I sensed a deep–seated pain, a burden he carried in silence.
In return, I shared stories of Stormclaw, of my mother’s fierce spirit and my father’s unwavering sense of Responsibility and duty.
As his strength returned, so did our connection deepen. We laughed over shared meals of foraged berries and roasted game, our hands brushing as we reached for the same morsel./
In the quiet moments, our gazes lingered, unspoken emotions passing between us.
One night, beneath a canopy of stars, Damien took my hand in his.
“You’ve given me a second chance, Selene,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I vow to honor that gift, to stand by your side through all trials.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I whispered, “And I, you.” We sealed our bond beneath the Blood Moon, marking and at moment, I believed our love could withstand any storm
Return to the Present
“Raise your head, please.””
The High Luna’s command pulled me from the depths of memory. I lifted my gaze, meeting her eyes with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability
The hall remained silent, the weight of the past and present converging in this single moment.”
The Ereaction Wich
