Ava's POV
The moon bled crimson.
From the moment my blood touched the Luna’s Blessing, I knew something ancient had awakened. The entire chamber had lit up, its walls pulsing with life that hadn't stirred for generations. The silver pool turned molten, flickering with strange symbols I could barely understand—a language of the gods, perhaps, or of wolves older than time.
But this wasn't just magic. It was memory.
And I was at the center of it.
Damon stood guard above, blade slick with blood, his eyes scanning the treeline as the last of the attackers fled. Cyrus had taken three hits to the ribs and still held the barrier around the temple like his life depended on it. Maybe it did.
The Burned Grove priestess had vanished in the chaos—dragged away by shadows, or perhaps sacrificed by
