Bound by moon and flame

The wind carried secrets through Wolf’s Mercy forest, and Elara was the only one listening. She paused mid-step, her basket of rosemary and thyme forgotten at her hip. That sound again—like voices humming just beyond hearing. The villagers called it superstition, but Elara *knew*. The old trees whispered. The brook sang in a language that pricked her skin. And tonight, under a harvest moon swollen to bursting, the forest *pulled* at her. *"Come,"* the rustling leaves seemed to say. Elara glanced back at the village. The warm glow of cottage windows dotted the hillside, but here at the forest’s edge, only moonlight lit her path. Aunt Marra would scold her for wandering so late, but the urge to step beyond the boundary oaks was a physical ache. *Just a few steps*, she told herself. The moment she crossed the invisible line marked by the twin oaks, the air changed. Thicker. Sweeter. Like breathing in crushed mint and lightning. Her boots sank into moss that shimmered faintly blue where she stepped. And then she saw it. Between the gnarled roots of an ancient pine grew a flower unlike any she’d ever known. Its petals were translucent as moonstone, pulsing with soft light. Elara crouched, reaching out— *Pain.* The world exploded behind her eyes. _A silver-haired goddess weaving threads around a crib. A man with golden eyes screaming as shadows consumed him. A knife flashing toward a baby’s chest—_ Elara wrenched back with a gasp, but the visions didn’t stop. The flower’s glow had spread up her fingers, silver veins lighting beneath her skin. Somewhere in the forest, a branch snapped. A growl ripped through the trees. *"Run."* The voice was male, rough with fury—and *inside her head*. Elara staggered upright as the underbrush rustled. Golden eyes flashed in the darkness—not a wolf’s, but a *man’s*. Clad in shadows that moved like living things, he stood over the mangled corpse of some twisted creature, black blood dripping from his claws. Elara’s breath hitched. The air smelled like ozone and something darker—*iron? Blood?* The stranger snarled, revealing fangs. *"You shouldn’t be here."* Then the earth swallowed him whole. Silence. Elara stumbled back, her pulse roaring. Only the crushed moonflower remained, its glow fading into the soil. She ran all the way home, but the golden eyes followed her in the dark. That night, she dreamed of fire and fangs and a voice that whispered: *"Mine."* ---