THE APLHA FATED LUNA

THE SHADOW IN THE KEEP

Cold, in spite of the ever-present fire that leaped and danced within the hearth, the room pulled at Selene's bones. She was curled upon the cot, her arms tight around her, as if she could hold her shaking form together by sheer force of will. The silence pressed in upon her ears, broken by the occasional creak of the ancient stones within the keep.

Wolf scent permeated everything—earth, pine, metal—though underlying that was something older, grittier. A hum in the walls themselves, as though this enclosure contained the spirit of every wolf that had ever lived and died within it. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

Her thoughts circled around themselves, chasing their own tail. She had been reprieved—no, claimed—by the Alpha himself. Dorian's voice still rang in her head, the power of his words pushing against her chest. She is my fated mate. She stays.

Fated mate. The words were dark and unfamiliar. She was not quite certain what they meant at all, yet something inside her responded to them, hummed a resonant chord. There was a bond—thick, paranormal—there, tugging subtly between them.

She covered her face with her hands. Nothing was making any sense. She'd spent her entire existence on the outside, from shadow to shadow, never dropping her guard, never in sight. And now she was in the one neighborhood she should never have wandered into, at the mercy of a man whose eyes were lit up with liquid gold.

Fatigue tugged at her form. Adrenaline that had sustained her thus far at last was expended. Eyes felt leaden, heartbeat slowed.

She did not want to sleep. Not here. Not where each shadow seemed to be gazing at her. But sleep was demanding, pulling her under its tides.

There was nothing initially but black. Black, oppressive, limitless.

Next was the moon, climbing the void as a queen dons a crown. There was no gentle, silver light. The moon was red and its illumination spread across the earth as red blood upon the ground.

The barefoot Selene navigated a half-familiar forest. There were trees around her, yet their bark was distorted, charred, and they growled with sounds similar to those of a tormented beast. The air was filled with ash that clung to her body.

The room was silent—until growling began.

Forms coalesced between the trees. Wolves. Dozens, maybe more, darkness given form. Their eyes glowed ember-red, their fur black as soot, their teeth too sharp to exist. They ringed her, low and near the earth, snarls vibrating through the soil.

Her survival impulse shouted her to get away, yet her feet were stuck rigid among the ashes. She writhed, yet was powerless to escape.

The wolves did not attack. They lowered their heads as if they were surrendering. One by one, slowly, they lay down their bodies on the ground as if they were awaiting her command.

Her heart pounded. Why? Why bow to me?

The ground shook. The ground split under her feet, red and hissing hot. Fire erupted, burning her body. The fissure enlarged, expelling fire until the ground on which she stood was ablaze like a furnace.

And from the flames, it came.

Un loup comme les autres.

It was huge, looming over the shadow pack, its coat silver-white, sparkling with the light of a thousand stars. Its eyes gleamed gold—brighter, more keen than Dorian's, slicing right through her.

Selene's breath caught. She recognized this wolf. She had never seen it, and she recognized it. Its presence filled her chest, choking and comforting at the same time.

She sighed, "Who are you?"

The silver wolf's jaw did not budge, yet his voice rang inside her brain like a cave echo.

"You are torn asunder. Half of you slumber while the other roams in darkness. Choose. Get up… or be consumed."

The fire leaped higher, its tongues licking at her bare feet. She took a step backward, but she could not turn and run. The shadow wolves lifted their heads, their glowing coals of eyes that burned at her with devotion—and hunger.

Her throat closed. "I—I cannot."

The silver wolf inclined its great head, eyes scrunched. "Then you'll be ashes."

The crevice opened, fire hissing up her legs and eating at her body. She shouted, thrashing, and the darknesses shut around her, their talons tearing at her arms and dragging her into the fire.

The pain was too real, too intense.

Help me! Her mind screamed to the silver wolf.

But it just watched, its gold eyes mournful—and commanding. "You are the fire, Selene. Claim it… or die."

The fire consumed her body completely.

Selene jack-knifed upward with a screech that shredded her throatbone dry. Her hands frantically groped over her legs for burnt spots. But her body was fine—sweaty, shaking, yet intact.

She breathed in ragged gasps. The room air was chilly, yet she sensed spectral heat sliding across her body. The sense of being burned alive lingered, choking her.

She pushed hands into her face, swaying side to side. It hadn't been a dream. Well, not really. It was a little too real, a little too significant. A vision. A omen.

The words of the silver wolf repeated and repeated themselves in her thinking: Rise or burn. Take what is yours… or die.

Her stomach churned. Why her? Why now? Into what was she supposed to arise?

She was no leader, no fated wolf. She did not know what she was.

They quivered as she dropped them, her gaze encountering the pale glint of dawn light struggling through the small gap between the shut and opened portions of the window. She asked the question for the first time aloud:

"Who are we?"

The silence did not answer. But something within her shifted, a small flame igniting in her blood.

The door groaned open. Selene sprang up, scrambling.

Kael entered, his movement swift and cold. His hair was soaked, his clothes clung to his frame as if he was just done with a workout. His eyes flicked across her for a moment, stopping on her white, wet face.

"You're awake," he concluded in a short voice.

Selene gulped, her dry throat. "It was just a dream."

Kael's eyes lowered a fraction. "Dreams in this keep are rarely dreams."

Her breath stopped. "What are you saying?"

He did not reply immediately. He took another step nearer, regarding her as if thinking how much to tell. There was nothing his eyes told, yet underneath his calm was something keen—a warning, possibly, or distrust.

You need to know something," he said at last. "Half the pack already wants you dead. They're saying the Alpha has been bewitched. That his mind is clouded."

Her chest constricted. "Why?"

Kael's face hardened. "Because you are not one of us. And things that are not the same." He stopped. "Things that are not the same are a danger.".

There was no hatred in his voice—only chilly certainty. That was possibly scarier than hatred would have been.

Kael vanished as quickly as he emerged, the door thudding closed behind him with a loud crash. Selene collapsed on the cot, her hands quivering.

The dream. The silver wolf. Kael's warning. They piled themselves one on top of another upon her chest, crushing her.

Fated mate. Burn or rise. Different is dangerous.

She pressed her fists against her temples and tried to force the words out, but they stuck to her like ivy.

And beneath, the ember glowed again, pulsing in her bloodstream as a second heartbeat.

Selene gazed at the s***h of morning outside the window, terror eating at her sides. Outside in the woods, she felt it—a presence, unseen eyes looking at her out of the dark.

She did not know if that was the enemy that she was yet to fight, or the wolf within her that was yet to escape. Either way, she was unsafe. Not here. Nowhere. And the choice that the silver wolf had made was still present in her thoughts: Rise. or burn.