The Moon Between Us

Chapter 2

The living room smelled of wood smoke and faint cinnamon as Sage poured tea into two mugs. I perched on the edge of the couch, clutching mine like a lifeline, my thoughts still tangled with my mother’s last words.

“You made it,” Sage said, voice light but eyes serious. “That’s what matters.”

I nodded, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen. “It’s… a lot,” I admitted. “Everything my mom said. I don’t even know where to start.”

Sage crouched beside me, resting her elbows on her knees. “I know. I’ve been through it too. Her warnings? They weren’t casual. Blackpine doesn’t forgive mistakes. Trust no one completely. Heed the night.”

I shivered, the words pressing down like the cold outside. “I… I think I need air.”

The porch was icy under my feet, my breath spilling out in white clouds. The trees beyond the yard loomed dark and silent, shadows stretching unnaturally in the moonlight. And then I heard it—a low, haunting howl that made my chest tighten.

Movement flickered at the edge of the clearing. A tall figure stepped out from the shadows. I froze. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched me with eyes that glinted in the moonlight.

“Stay out of the woods,” he said finally, voice low and firm. “Especially at night.”

I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. Something about the way he looked at the forest, then back at the full moon above, drew me in. My chest tightened, pulse thrumming in my ears.

I couldn’t explain it, but I followed him.

The trees closed in, branches scratching at my sleeves, roots trying to trip me. The air felt thicker here, vibrating with a strange energy, and I knew I had made a mistake.

Then came the bite. Sharp, burning, like fire lancing through my skin. My vision blurred, my knees buckled, and I stumbled forward.

The stranger appeared instantly, catching me before I fell. “Hold still,” he said, voice urgent but controlled. He steadied me, scanning the shadows.

“I… I don’t know what—” I began, but blackness clawed at the edges of my vision, pulling me down.

Somewhere in the blur between consciousness and darkness, I felt movement and warmth—hands steadying me, a voice I recognized. Sage.

“…the Veil,” she said urgently. “It’s thinning faster than ever. She’s the reason.”

“…can’t let her wander,” another voice said, low and tense.

“I know,” said the first voice. “Everything depends on her.”

I barely understood, only able to catch fragments. Sage’s hand pressed to mine, grounding me, but the darkness was stronger. My last thought before surrendering completely: the Veil… thinning… and me at its center.

The night stretched, cold and silent, and I drifted deeper into unconsciousness, only vaguely aware of strangers’ movements around me, of hushed tones and urgent whispers. I didn’t know who they were. I didn’t know their names. I only knew I was being watched, protected, and pulled through the shadows toward safety—though the night wasn’t finished with me yet.