CHAPTER 2 — The Mark of the Moon
1238 Words
The word wouldn’t stop.
Mate.
It threaded through Damien’s mind, unrelenting, insistent, clawing at the edges of his reason. He had heard it before—spoken, whispered, prayed over—but never like this. Not in a way that made his skin tingle, his chest tighten, his wolf stir so violently it felt as if his very soul were being tested.
Tonight, beneath the crimson glow of the Blood Moon, surrounded by six identical faces, he wanted nothing more than to silence that voice, to drown it out in the certainty of logic. But logic had no place here. Not when destiny had clawed its way into the clearing like a living thing.
The murmurs of the crowd began to rise again, breaking the fragile stillness that had held the clearing hostage since his growl had torn through the night. Eyes darted from the sisters to Damien, then to the glowing crescent marks etched into their wrists, pulsing faintly, almost alive.
Elder Kael’s presence was steady, though the weight of the night rested on him as heavily as it did on Damien. He raised his staff again, voice echoing over the restless pack.
> “The goddess has spoken through the mark. The Blood Moon chooses no single path—yet the Alpha’s heart will.”
Damien’s jaw tightened until it hurt.
> “No. This is a trick. Light, fear… nothing more. The goddess does not play games with destiny.”
Kael’s eyes flicked to the moon, deep and unreadable.
> “And yet, here we stand—in a game she has already begun.”
The words left a bitter taste in Damien’s mouth. He turned sharply, cloak flaring behind him as he strode through the outer ring of the crowd. Warriors shifted aside like water, faces downcast under the weight of his presence. Each step was a battle—not just against the crowd, or the centuries of expectation, but against the chaos raging in his own chest. His wolf surged, snarling under the surface.
The pull beneath his skin had not lessened. It was more than attraction. It was claiming. Possession. Gravity that tugged him toward something that should have been impossible. One man. Six women. One heart, shattered six ways.
The night wind carried the faint scent of jasmine. Wild, intoxicating. His wolf growled, low and hungry. That scent—he knew it. It belonged to her. But which her?
On the ritual platform, the sisters watched him disappear into the shadows. Selene’s gaze followed him, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t name. It wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something older, something that coiled around her veins like fire, whispering promises she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.
When he vanished, she forced herself to breathe.
Seraphina’s eyes lingered on her sister, catching the unspoken tension. Her lips curved into a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
> “Don’t stare too long,” she murmured. “The goddess might think you’re volunteering.”
Selene’s reply was sharp, measured.
> “And you think she hasn’t already chosen?”
Lilith’s quiet chuckle cut through the air, smooth and dangerous.
> “If she has, it isn’t you, dear sister. He looked at all of us the same.”
The words settled over them like a winter wind, cold and insistent. Even the youngest, Mira and Aria, felt it—the weight of expectation, of destiny, pressing down on their shoulders.
Mira whispered, eyes wide. “Why do we all have the same mark? Does that mean… are we all his?”
Aria’s protective arm slid around her, firm and grounding. “No one belongs to anyone until the goddess herself says so.” Yet her gaze flicked to Selene, just for a moment—quick, guilty, longing. She hated that her chest tightened at the mention of mate, hated that her loyalty twisted into yearning.
Elder Kael’s staff struck the ground with a resounding thud, snapping the tension like a whip.
> “Enough. The goddess does not favor chaos. Return to your quarters. Tomorrow brings light—and perhaps, answers.”
The sisters left the clearing, shadows among shadows. The red moon dimmed, retreating behind clouds as if ashamed of the chaos it had wrought.
Inside his quarters, Damien faced a grand mirror carved from obsidian. His reflection stared back, silver eyes glinting faintly, wolf stirring beneath the surface. He had commanded armies, fought wars, killed without hesitation—but never had he feared losing control as he did now.
His wolf’s voice rumbled in his mind.
> She’s here. You felt her. You smelled her.
Damien gritted his teeth.
> “Which one? There are six!”
The wolf only laughed, deep and amused.
> Six paths. One heart. Choose right, or lose all.
He slammed his palm against the mirror. Cracks spiderwebbed across its obsidian surface, each shard reflecting a different pair of eyes. Six pairs. Six futures. Six possibilities.
Outside, rain began to fall over Blackridge Forest, washing moonlight and blood from the earth.
Selene couldn’t sleep.
She sat by her window, watching lightning split the horizon, fingers tracing the crescent mark on her wrist. It pulsed faintly, syncing with the rhythm of her heartbeat. Her chest ached inexplicably when she thought of him—a man she had barely met, yet somehow knew existed in the marrow of her bones.
The mark flared suddenly, brighter this time. A shiver ran down her spine. Then she heard it—a low, soft whisper carried on the wind, a voice ancient and distant.
> “Only one heart is pure enough to wear the crown…”
Selene’s breath caught. She rose, heart hammering.
> “Who’s there?” she demanded, scanning the darkened room.
The whisper returned, closer, as though spoken behind her ear.
> “The others will bleed for your choice…”
Thunder rattled the walls. Selene spun, finding only the open window, wind whipping rain across the floor.
Something floated inside, light and silver. A feather.
It landed in her palm, warm, impossibly warm, carrying the scent of smoke and night-blooming lilies. Her fingers trembled as she closed around it.
From deep in the forest, a wolf howled—low, aching, hungry. She felt her soul stir, felt something in her chest awaken. The mark on her wrist flared again—this time it refused to fade.
Miles away, Damien woke with a start. Sweat drenched his chest. Heart pounding as though his ribcage would split. His wolf prowled the edges of his mind, restless, demanding.
Moonlight glinted off something on his table—something that hadn’t been there before. A single silver feather, shimmering faintly.
His wolf’s growl vibrated through his bones.
> She dreams of us.
Damien clenched his jaw. Fate was no longer theory. The goddess wasn’t playing games—she was binding destinies, weaving threads he could not escape. And he was already falling into the trap, into the pull, into the inevitable.
He stared through the rain toward the distant glow of the sisters’ quarters. The moon cut through the clouds for a fleeting second—red, merciless, unblinking.
His voice broke the silence, hoarse and raw.
> “If this is fate… then damn the goddess for it.”
And deep within him, beneath the veneer of control, the wolf answered with certainty.
> Mate.
- Writer
