The first omen came at dusk.
A low hum rippled through the earth, so deep it made the trees tremble and the air shiver. I looked up and saw it.
The moon, swollen and red, rising before the sun had even set.
Ronan’s hand tightened around mine.
“It’s too soon,” he whispered.
“The Blood Moon wasn’t meant to return for another century.”
But there it was, burning above the horizon like an open wound in the heavens.
The mark we’d made in the sky pulsed faintly beneath it, answering like a heartbeat.
The world was shifting again.
By the time the moon reached its peak, the pack had gathered at the edge of the clearing. The forest itself glowed faintly, the silver veins in the trees pulsing like living arteries. The rivers shimmered crimson where moonlight touched them.
The air reeked of
