Silver Howl

Blood on Moonlit Stone

The night air was sharp against Selene’s skin as the guards dragged her from the dungeon. Iron chains clinked with every step, but it was the pull in her chest that made it difficult to breathe. The full moon rose high above the treetops, flooding the courtyard with silver light. It washed over the Shadowfang stronghold, casting the ancient stone towers in a ghostly glow.

She dug her heels into the earth, resisting, but the guards yanked her forward without pause. She had fought them earlier and lost. Fighting again would do nothing but weaken her further. Still, her heart screamed against obedience.

Dante waited at the center of the courtyard, standing tall and unyielding. His cloak fluttered in the breeze, but his posture was all control. His golden eyes locked onto her as if the rest of the world did not exist.

“Release her,” he commanded. The guards obeyed instantly, stepping back into the shadows. Selene rubbed her wrists where the cuffs had bitten into her skin. The chains remained, but for the first time, she stood in the open under the full light of the moon. Dante stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Look up, Selene. Let the moon see you.” She shook her head, every muscle in her body screaming for resistance. “I will not play your games.”

“It is not a game,” Dante said, his voice low, carrying through the still air. “This is the truth. You cannot hide from what is written in your blood.” Selene clenched her jaw. “I told you. I am human.”

“Then prove it.” He gestured to the sky. “Stand in the moonlight without fear.”

She wanted to spit defiance, to curse him, but her body betrayed her. Her pulse pounded, her breath quickened, and her skin prickled with unnatural heat. The moonlight poured over her like fire and ice, and she felt her heart stutter as if another rhythm pushed against it.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head violently. “This is not real.”

But Dante’s eyes burned with certainty. “It is real. You feel it, don’t you? The call. The bond. The wolf beneath your skin.”

Her knees weakened, forcing her to stagger back. She pressed her hands to her chest, as though she could smother the wild beat of her heart. The howls of wolves rose from the surrounding forest, carrying on the night air. The sound pierced her like an arrow, filling her veins with a raw, aching hunger she did not understand.

Dante caught her arm before she could collapse. His grip was strong, steady, anchoring her even as her world spun. His warmth seeped into her through the thin fabric of her tunic, and for one terrifying moment, she wanted to lean into it.

“Let it in,” he murmured. “Stop fighting. You were not meant to be ordinary.”

Her lips trembled with a denial she no longer believed. Heat surged beneath her skin, racing through her veins, making every nerve ignite. She cried out and sank to her knees, chains clattering against stone. Her hands dug into the earth as though clawing for something buried deep inside.

The world blurred. The courtyard, the moon, even Dante’s looming figure, all of it wavered against the blaze of light in her mind. She could hear the forest breathe, hear the thrum of life in every tree, every living thing. Her senses sharpened, too sharp, cutting into her like glass.

“No,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “This cannot be happening.”

Dante knelt beside her, his shadow falling across her trembling form. His hand brushed against the side of her neck, grounding her. “It is happening because it was always meant to. The wolf recognizes its own.”

His words wrapped around her like chains stronger than iron. She wanted to fight, but deep inside, something howled in agreement.

The transformation did not come fully. Not yet. But her eyes burned, shifting for a moment into an otherworldly silver glow before snapping back. Her teeth ached as though something beneath them strained for release. Her heartbeat no longer felt human. It thundered with a primal rhythm she could not deny.

Dante’s lips curved into a smile that was neither cruel nor kind, but something more dangerous. “There you are.” Selene jerked away, shaking her head wildly. “No. I am not yours. I am not one of you.”

“Then why,” he asked softly, “does the moon claim you?”

The question struck harder than a blow. She had no answer. Tears burned her eyes, a mixture of rage and fear. She pushed herself to her feet, chains rattling, glaring at him with every ounce of strength she had left.

“I will never belong to you,” she said.

Dante rose with her, his presence towering, his voice a velvet snarl. “You already do. The chains on your wrists are nothing compared to the bond you cannot break.”

Selene’s heart slammed into her chest, not just from fear but from the dangerous truth in his words. Every instinct told her to deny him, yet her body betrayed her, humming with the same pulse as the wolves beyond the walls.

The howls rose again, louder, filling the night like a chorus. Selene staggered, the sound rattling through her bones. The chains rattled with her movements, glinting in the silver light. She felt torn between two selves, one human and fragile, the other wild and unyielding.

Dante stepped close, so near she could feel his breath on her cheek. His eyes burned gold, hungry, unrelenting. “You cannot run from destiny, Selene. You are mine. The moon has been chosen.”

Selene’s breath hitched. Her body burned, her spirit trembled, and at that moment, she hated herself for the spark of recognition in his words.

Before she could respond, a horn blasted from the far edge of the fortress. The sound cut through the night, sharp and urgent. Wolves in the shadows growled, snapping to attention. Dante’s expression hardened instantly, his gaze snapping away from her toward the forest.

“Enemies,” he growled. “The Bloodfangs dare approach.”

The courtyard exploded with motion. Guards shifted, snarling as claws extended and bones cracked. The fortress roared to life. Selene stood frozen, chains heavy on her wrists, her heart pounding with a question that terrified her more than the approaching enemy.

Was she safer in her chains beside Dante, or would freedom mean death?

The courtyard still smelled of iron and smoke when the Shadowfangs returned from the chase. Dawn bled pale through ragged clouds and turned the blood on the stones a dull rust. Selene sat on the edge of a low wall, wrists raw, eyes hollow with the memory of the fight. Around her, the pack moved like a single organism, tending to the wounded, dragging away the dead, repairing what the Bloodfangs had broken. Conversation ran with low undertones. Stares found her and slid away like knives.

Dante stood apart from them, a dark monolith in the weak morning light. Even back in human form, his presence ordered the world. Men and women cleared a path without thinking. When his gaze fell on her, she felt it like a hand on her spine. He crossed the yard and stopped a few paces away, the crowd rearranging itself to give him space. No one challenged him. No one could.