The First Moon Rises
The moon rose blood-red.
Lyra saw it through the tiny barred window at the top of her cell—round and swollen, bleeding light into the sky like it had been wounded.
The curse was coming. And Kael was already gone. She didn’t need a clock to know. She felt it.
Like the ground itself was holding its breath. It pressed against her chest, made her bones ache, her skin crawl.
Her mark
The presence inside her stirred. Dormant during the day, twisting like smoke beneath her skin, whispering false promises of power in exchange for surrender.
Lyra wrapped her arms around herself, crouched low against the dungeon wall, and tried to still her heartbeat.
To die.
To be torn apart by the Wolf King before the thing inside her grew strong enough to claw its way out. But now that it was happening—now that the night was heavy with Kael’s rage and the forest had fallen silent—she realized something terrible.
She didn’t want to die anymore.
Not like this.
Not by his hands.
Not by his pain.
---
Upstairs...
Kael slammed the heavy oak door shut behind him and dropped to his knees, panting. The chamber reeked of wolfsbane and ash—futile remnants of his attempts to dull the curse.
Moonlight streamed through the fractured stained glass window, casting some lights across his trembling hands. His nails were already blackening, stretching. His muscles spasmed beneath his skin, tendons snapping and reforming with audible cracks. The shift was starting early.
The curse was waking faster.
Because she’s here, he thought, gasping. He could still smell her on his skin. Her sorrow. The girl in the dungeon was messing with everything inside him: his thoughts, his senses, even the beast.
And tonight, it wasn’t waiting.
Kael screamed as his spine cracked, his hands slamming into the cold stone floor as charcoal fur ripped through his skin. His eyes glowed gold, then white.
The transformation wasn’t like a normal shift.
It was torture.
A curse.
This was the price he paid.
For every death.
For every love.
He became something the goddess herself had buried—part man, part beast, all fury. Bones cracked. Teeth elongated, slicing through his gums. Claws burst from his fingertips, boring deep into the hard ground.
Kael collapsed forward, mouth open in a silent roar as the curse took over. Memories flooded his fractured mind: the first woman he’d loved, her throat torn open by his teeth. He remembered her beautiful smile, her laughter. All silenced by his claws. The curse; to devour every heart that he dares love.
And in the dark below—
He heard her.
Lyra.
Whimpering.
Begging.
Not for mercy. But for courage.
---
Downstairs...
Lyra’s chains clattered to the ground. They hadn’t been unlocked. They hadn’t been broken.
They had melted.
Silver pooled at her feet like moonlight turned to mercury, glowing faintly as it seeped into the cracks between the stones. She stared at it in shock, her wrists red and blistered but free.
“What the hell…” she breathed.
The wind howled outside. The whole castle groaned, its foundations shifting under invisible weight. She could hear footsteps above—no, not footsteps.
Paws.
Massive. Heavy. Scraping across the upper floors with deliberate, predatory slowness.
He’s coming.
Her mark burned so cold it felt like frostbite now, glowing faintly through her tunic. She rose to her feet slowly, muscles screaming. The walls of the dungeon seemed to pulse inward. Her knees trembled, but she forced herself to stand. If she was going to die tonight, she’d face it.
Face him.
She pressed a hand to the cold metal door, its surface showing signs of years of scratches. And the moment she touched it—
He roared.
---
He crashed into the dungeon like a storm. The door didn’t open—it shattered.
A blast of wind and debris slammed into Lyra, sending her stumbling back against the wall. Dust clouded the air, stinging her eyes. Stones cracked beneath massive claws, each step shaking the floor.
And then—
He stepped into the light.
Kael.
But not.
The thing in front of her had golden eyes, but they glowed like wildfire consuming a drought forest. His fur was dark as the void, matted and slick with sweat. His body was enormous—too large, too jagged for a normal wolf-shifter. Muscles rippled with unnatural force. His snarl was feral, jaw hanging open with teeth meant for ripping.
He wasn’t Kael.
He was the cursed king.
Lyra couldn’t breathe.
He stared at her, head cocked, nostrils flaring as he inhaled her fear. A low growl vibrated in his chest. And then—he charged.
---
She barely had time to scream. She dropped to the floor just as he lunged. His claws scraped against the stone wall above her, sending sparks cascading over her back. She rolled to the side, heart slamming against her ribs like a war drum.
“Kael—Kael, please—”
No response.
He wasn’t in there.
Not fully.
She scrambled across the floor, blood dripping from her scraped knees, her breath coming in sharp gasps. He snarled again, pacing slowly now, his massive frame blocking the exit. He didn’t lunge this time.
He watched.
Circling her.
Like prey.
No. She had to reach him.
“Kael. You know me. I’m not your enemy.”
His head tilted, ears flattening. Then—he growled.
Low. Warning.
And behind it—something else.
Pain.
Agony.
Guilt.
Lyra’s voice shook. “You said you killed everyone you loved. Is that what this is? Is that what she cursed you with?”
His body tensed.
She stepped forward, ignoring the voice in her head screaming to run. “She marked me, too. But I’m still me. I’m still fighting it.”
His head dropped slightly, chest rising and falling with ragged breath.
“Fight her, Kael,” she whispered.
The wolf snarled—louder. A cry of rage and confusion that shook the walls. He slammed his claws into the floor, stone splintering like glass. And then—he turned.
Ran.
Disappeared back through the ruined door like he couldn’t stand the sight of her. Like he was afraid.
---
Moments Later...
Lyra collapsed against the wall, gasping, shaking.
He could’ve killed her.
Should have.
But he didn’t.
Because something inside him—something beneath the beast—had held on. Because he saw you, she realized. He saw me. Not just a mark. Not just blood.
Lyra.
---
She waited until her legs could move again. Then she stepped over the broken chains and walked out of the dungeon, barefoot, quiet. The castle halls were empty. Cold. The wind still howled through the cracked ceilings.
She followed the blood. Faint drops along the floor, black in the moonlight. Deep claw marks marking the stone. And then—she found him.
Kael.
Collapsed in the corner of the corridor, his body half-shifted back. Fur retreated like shadows at dawn, bones cracking audibly as they reformed. He was breathing hard, face buried in his arms, shoulders shaking.
He was weeping.
She knelt beside him without a word. And for the first time— He didn’t push her away.
---
As Lyra touched his shoulder, his skin burned hot. She jerked her hand back. And the mark on her collarbone glowed again—twinned with his.
Not a curse this time.
But a bond.