The Moonless Werewolf

Chapter 2: My handler hates me

KAYDEN

Lira Vance

She is the Alpha Heir. Daughter of the strongest Alpha in the country. She has gold eyes and long black hair. In the day, she is the one who trips me in the hall. She is the one who calls me Moonless the loudest. She is the one who told everyone I should be kicked out.

Tonight she looks different. Her uniform is torn. There is blood on her face — but it is not hers. Her eyes are wide. She is looking at me like I am the monster.

Maybe I am.

“The moon,” she whispers. Her voice shakes.

“It’s gone.”

I look up. She is right. There is nothing in the sky. Just black.

“How,” she says. “How are you standing?”

I don’t answer. I don’t know how to. She takes a step closer. She looks at my back.

“You… you killed them,” she says. “The Voidborn. You killed them.”

I nod once.

She stares at me for a long time. Then her shoulders drop. Like she is tired. And she is scared.

“The Alphas are down,” she says. “The teachers are dead. The moon is gone. And you are the only one left.”

She laughs. It is not a happy laugh. It sounds broken.

“The Moonless,” she says. “The cursed one.”

I wait for her to attack me. To call the guards. To tell everyone what I am. Instead she just looks at the sky.

“They’re coming back,” she says quietly. “The Voidborn. They only come when there is no moon. And the moon is not coming back tonight.”

A cold feeling goes through me.

“What do you mean?” I ask. My voice sounds rough. Different.

Lira looks at me. For the first time, she is not laughing. For the first time, she looks at me like I am a person.

“I mean,” she says, “that we are going to die. Unless you help us.”

We walk to the headmaster’s office. It is destroyed. Papers everywhere. Blood everywhere.

Lira finds an old book on the floor. Big. Old. Yellow pages. She opens it with shaking hands.

“Five hundred years ago,” she reads, “the Moon Goddess split her power. She made two kinds of protectors. Full Moon Werewolves… to guard the world in the light. And one New Moon Werewolf… to guard the world in the dark.”

She looks up at me.

“The New Moon Werewolf only wakes when the world needs him. When the Voidborn return. When the moon dies.”

My mouth is dry.

“That’s not me,” I say. “I’m just… me. I’m nobody.”

Lira closes the book.

“You are the Guardian, Kayden. You were not cursed. You were chosen.”

The word hits me in the chest.

Chosen.

No one has ever called me that before. They called me cursed. Mistake. Moonless. Not chosen.

Outside, we hear a sound. A tearing, distant howl.

“There is another one,” I say. “I sense it. Far away.”

“More are coming,” Lira says.

She stands up and walks to me.

“The headmaster named me your handler before he died,” she says. “I am supposed to protect you. Train you. Make sure you don’t lose control.”

She pauses.

“And I am supposed to tell you that the moon is dying.”

“What?”

“The moon is fading,” she says. “Astronomers saw it. In thirty days, there will be no moon at all. Thirty days of darkness. They call it the Eternal New Moon. If it happens… the Voidborn will take over the world.”

Thirty days. That is all I have.

“And you are the only one who gets stronger in the dark,” Lira says. “So you have to learn. You have to get stronger. You have to fight.”

I look at my claws. The blood on them. The bones pressing beneath my skin.

“I don’t know how,” I whisper.

Lira sighs.

“Then I will teach you,” she says. “Even if you hate me. Even if I hate you. Because if you don’t… we all die.”

She holds out her hand. Not to hit me. To help me up.

I stare at the girl who made my life hell. The girl who called me cursed. Now she is the only one standing with me. Slowly, I take her hand. Her skin is warm.

“Okay,” I say. “Teach me.”

The moon is gone. The world is dark. And for the first time in my life… I am not hiding. I am the Moonless Werewolf. And the dark is mine.

It is 4:00 AM.

The sky is still pitch black. No moon. Not even a star. I have not slept. I don’t think I can sleep anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I see it again. The blood on the walls. The bones tearing out of my back. And Lira’s face — the way she looked at me, terrified and broken.

We are in the training room now. Huge. Empty. Cold stone walls. Everywhere I look, old scratches. Faded scars from years of fighting.

Lira stands ten feet in front of me. Arms crossed tight. She is not in uniform. Black training gear — tight, practical. Like something a soldier wears. She looks sharp. Dangerous. And she has not looked me in the eyes for ten minutes.

“So,” she says finally. Her voice flat. “You’re the Guardian.”

I shrug. My hands feel empty. “I guess.”

“You guess.”

A short, sharp laugh. Not kind. “Great. The fate of the entire world rests on the shoulders of a janitor who ‘guesses.’”

It stings. But she is right. Three hours ago I was mopping floors. Now I am supposed to save everyone.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask.

“I want you to not die,” she says simply. “And I want you to learn how to fight before the next Voidborn arrives. They will come back. Tonight. Tomorrow. I don’t know when. But when they do… you cannot just lose control and tear everything apart.”

She walks slow circles around me. Like I am some strange animal she is trying to figure out.

“I saw you,” she says. “You are strong. Unnaturally strong. But you have no control. No skill. You just… snap. And then you kill.”

She stops right in front of me.

“If you do that in front of the wrong people — if anyone fears you more than they fear the monsters — they will hunt you down before the Voidborn even get here. They will kill you first.”

I clench my fists. My claws itch. I force them back in.

“I don’t know how to control it,” I say quietly. “I only turn when the moon is gone. I don’t know how to do it on purpose.”

“Then we will make the moon go away.”

I look up. Confused. “What?”

Lira walks to the wall. Grabs a heavy black cloth. Covers every window. The light vanishes. The room goes completely dark. No moon. No light. Nothing but shadows.

“It’s a blackout room,” she says from the dark. “We train wolves to fight without sight here. Now it is your classroom.”

A dull ache starts in my back. Something pushing from inside. Trying to get out.

“Lira,” I say. My voice shakes. “I don’t think I’m ready —”

“Too late.”

And then the bones break through.

Pain.

It hurts more this time. Because I am not surprised. Because I am waiting for it.

Crack. Crack.

Two sharp pains down my spine. Then four. They tear through skin and fabric. Long, black, jagged bones — like wings, but sharper. Deadlier.

My vision shifts. Everything darker. Clearer. My eyes burn. When I blink, I see only black. My claws slide out. I stand there breathing hard. I can smell everything. Dust. Old stone. Lira.

“Good,” she says. Steady. “You’re up. Now listen. The hard part isn’t turning into the monster. The hard part is turning back.”

“How?” I growl. My voice deeper. Rough. Not mine.

“Think of something human,” she says. “Your name. Kayden. Not Moonless. Not freak. Kayden. The mop bucket you push. The small room you sleep in. Anything but blood. Anything but killing.”

I try. Close my eyes. Picture the dirty water. The quiet hallways.

I picture —

Something fast behind me.

I spin. Too fast. Lira is there with a wooden training sword.

“Don’t let your instincts take over,” she says.

But I have already moved. My arm swings. Claws slice through wood like paper. The sword breaks clean in half. Silence. Lira drops the pieces. Her eyes go wide. Exactly like last night. Terrified.

“You almost hit me,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean —”

I focus. Hard.

Go back. Go back. Please.

I scream. The bones pull inward. Every inch of it hurts. I gasp and fall to my knees. Hands shaking. I am human again. Claws and wings gone.

When I look up, Lira is still there. But the fear is gone.

“Get up,” she says. She holds out a hand. Then pulls it back. “On your feet, Kayden.”

I stand slowly.

“For thirty days,” she says, “we are stuck together. Every hour. Every minute. Daytime — train while you are weak. Nighttime — train while you are strong. Three hours sleep if we are lucky. And we do not fight each other. Not really. Understood?”

“Understood.”

She nods. Then tosses me a soft cloth towel.

“Wipe the blood off your face,” she says. “You look terrible.”

I catch it. It smells like her. Soap. Something sharp.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

She does not answer. Turns toward the door.

“One more thing, Moonless,” she says without looking back. “When we are training here… don’t call me Lira. Call me Handler. This is work. Nothing more.”

Then she leaves.