MOONLIGHT CLAIM

The first light of dawn had barely touched the treetops when Aria slipped out of bed. The packhouse was silent, still wrapped in the dim grey of early morning. This was the only time she had to herself — the few quiet minutes before her stepmother woke and turned her world into orders and accusations. Aria pulled on her worn boots and tied her thick black hair into a messy knot. The mirror on the wall was cracked, but the girl staring back at her was the same as always: pale skin smudged by exhaustion, eyes too bright for her own liking — eyes that shimmered a peculiar shade of silver whenever she was emotional. Stepmother Liana hated that. She said it made Aria look unnatural. Aria grabbed the laundry basket and slipped out of her tiny attic room. The stairs creaked under her light steps as she moved quickly, hoping not to wake anyone. She reached the backyard and started scrubbing clothes, her hands numb in the cold morning water. She was halfway through the second shirt when she heard footsteps behind her. “Still playing Cinderella?” a voice drawled. Aria didn’t turn. Damon’s voice was unmistakable — smooth, mocking, laced with that arrogant confidence only an 18-year-old future warrior could have. He leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, blond hair messy from sleep but still managing to look perfect. “You could help,” Aria said quietly. Damon smirked. “Why would I? That’s what you’re here for.” A second voice echoed from upstairs. “Damon! Stop talking to her. You’re encouraging her to think she’s one of us!” Mira. Of course. Mira appeared at the balcony rail, her long curls cascading like she was posing for attention. She always looked irritated at the mere sight of Aria, as though Aria’s existence ruined her day before it began. Aria lowered her head so they wouldn’t see the annoyance rising in her eyes. “I have chores to finish.” “See?” Mira said, flipping her hair. “She knows her place.” The balcony door slammed behind her. Damon followed her inside without another word, and the house went quiet again. Aria’s hands trembled slightly, but she kept scrubbing. She’d learned long ago not to react. Liana always said reacting meant guilt, and guilt meant punishment. By the time the sun had risen fully, Aria had finished the laundry, swept the kitchen, and prepared breakfast. Just as she set the last bowl of fruit on the table, Liana swept in like a cold wind. Her stepmother’s presence filled the room with tension. Tall, sharp-featured, and always dressed in dark colors, Liana carried herself like a queen—even though she wasn’t one. “Aria,” she said without looking at her, “did you iron Damon’s uniform?” “Yes.” “And Mira’s?” “Yes.” “And you washed my cloak?” Aria hesitated. “It’s drying. It should—” “ —It should?” Liana turned, narrowing her eyes. “I needed it this morning.” “I—I’m sorry. I’ll bring it as soon as—” “Don’t apologize. Fix it.” Liana dismissed her with a wave and sat at the table. Aria bowed her head and hurried to fetch the cloak, but something stopped her — voices rising outside. Murmurs. Excited ones. Mira burst into the kitchen, practically glowing. “Mother! Did you hear? The Alpha made an announcement!” Liana glanced up sharply. “What announcement?” “They’re holding the Crescent Moon Ceremony this month! The Alpha’s son is returning for it!” Damon strode in behind her, chest raised with pride. “Finally. A real event. And Mira here thinks she’ll be chosen as his mate.” Mira smirked. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m beautiful, I’m talented, and I’m certainly not—” she glanced at Aria “—whatever she is.” Liana’s lips curled with satisfaction. “Yes… an alliance with the Alpha’s family would be powerful for our future.” Aria pretended not to hear. She folded the cloak and placed it on Liana’s chair. Liana grabbed her wrist. “You will not attend the ceremony.” Aria swallowed. “But all pack members are supposed to—” “You?” Liana laughed coldly. “You’re better off hidden. A girl like you could embarrass the pack. You haven’t even shifted yet.” Aria’s chest tightened. “I—I’m trying—” “Don’t try. Stay out of sight.” Aria nodded, forcing down the sting in her eyes. But as she walked away, Damon muttered beneath his breath, “She won’t find a mate anyway.” Mira giggled. Aria slipped out the back door before they saw her expression crumble. Outside, the forest stretched endlessly, its shadows familiar and comforting. Aria wandered deeper until the house was a distant memory. She stopped beside her favorite tree — an ancient oak whose roots curled like protective arms. Here, she wasn’t the orphan girl or the burden. Here, she felt… alive. As the wind rustled through the leaves, Aria closed her eyes and whispered: “Why can’t I shift? Why can’t I be normal?” Her voice cracked. But deep inside her chest, something stirred — a faint, warm pulse she had felt for years but never understood. Like a wolf answering. As the warmth spread, she heard a distant howl echo through the forest, one she’d never heard before — powerful, calling, familiar. Aria opened her eyes, breath hitching. Was someone watching? A shiver ran down her spine. Something was coming. Something that would change everything. And Aria had no idea that the first step of her destiny would begin the moment the Alpha’s son returned to the pack.