Beneath Twin Moons

“Clear it," Alvin barked, blade drawn. The iron door crashed open. Smoke poured out, thick with the stench of blood and burning fur. Shadows twitched behind broken furniture. His men moved swiftly—silent, ruthless. “Third room on the left," muttered Halden, wiping soot from his brow. “Movement." Alvin kicked the door in. Inside, silver-furred corpses sprawled in disarray, throats slit, eyes frozen in surprise. A rebel den, and judging by the bone charms on the floor—one of the deeper cells. But in the corner, against the stone wall, someone still breathed. A girl. Unconscious, slumped in blood, her hands wrapped tightly around a string—a pendant. Alvin's gaze snapped to it. Bone, carved with twin crescents. He stepped closer, heart slamming once in his chest. “…Where did you get that?" he muttered. The girl didn't stir. “Commander?" Halden said from behind. “Alive?" Alvin crouched. His fingers trembled as he pried the necklace free. “This… this belonged to my sister." Halden squinted. “Then she's a grave robber. Maybe worse." “No," Alvin whispered, staring at the girl's pale face. Her hair—moon-pale. The same shade from his childhood dreams. The same shade from that night. That night. His mouth went dry. He stood, cold fury rising like a tide. “Bind her," he ordered. “Silver cuffs. Tight." “She's barely breathing." “I don't care. If she touched my sister's body—if she took this—" He held up the pendant like a banner of war. “She dies screaming." The men hesitated, then obeyed. As they shackled her wrists in glinting metal, the girl groaned—soft, broken. Her head lolled to the side, revealing a gash over her collarbone. “She's not rebel infantry," Halden muttered. “No. She's something worse," Alvin said darkly. “A silverblood in disguise." He turned on his heel. “Take her to the Bastion." ** The wind howled like wolves all the way up the frost trail. Snow lashed their faces, turning the world white and soundless. The girl, bound and slumped in the back of the sleigh, never stirred. Alvin tried not to look at her. Failed. Her features were too calm. Like she belonged to the cold. “You keep staring," Halden remarked beside him, reins tight in gloved hands. “I'm watching for tricks." “She's half-dead." “Even better. That's when they hide their fangs." Halden didn't respond. The only sound was sleigh runners over ice. Alvin clenched the pendant in his fist. “She had no right to touch this." “Then maybe ask why she had it." Alvin's jaw tightened. “I don't ask questions. I burn answers out." The Iron Bastion rose on the horizon—black stone against white mountains. A prison. A fortress. A graveyard. Torchlight flickered along the ramparts as they approached. Guards raised their spears. “Wolf prisoner," Alvin announced, holding the pendant high. “Found with this." Whispers rippled along the gatehouse. “A purge begins tonight," Alvin declared. “Any creature with silver blood—no matter how human it looks—will bleed under our justice." He didn't wait for permission. He dismounted, boots crunching against ice, and marched into the fortress, dragging the girl behind him by her chains. ** The infirmary stank of herbs and metal. “She needs rest," the healer protested. “She'll die before you get answers." “She'll live long enough," Alvin said, cold and unmoved. “She has something to tell me." The healer backed away. Alvin approached the bed. The girl was laid out on rough blankets, skin pale but no longer bleeding. The silver cuffs remained. Her hands twitched now and then. He leaned down, voice low. “You took my sister's pendant." No answer. He dangled the charm inches from her lips. “This. Where did you find it?" Still nothing. “I can have your fingers broken," he whispered. “Your tongue sliced, your bones shattered. I've done worse for less." The girl's eyes fluttered. Gray-gold irises met his. He froze. Recognition hit him like an avalanche. Somewhere deep in memory—a girl, kneeling, singing beneath a burning roof. The lullaby that stopped his screaming. This can't be her. He forced his voice to steady. “Speak." Her lips moved slightly. No sound came. “You don't deserve mercy." She blinked once. Then closed her eyes. As if mourning. Alvin cursed and stood abruptly. “Dungeons. Now. She talks, or she rots." “Commander—" “No healer touches her again unless I say so." He stormed from the room. But halfway down the corridor, he stopped. Faint. Soft. From the infirmary echoed a sound—a tune. A lullaby. Fragile, like wind on broken glass. The same lullaby. His sister's. His fists clenched. “No." He stayed rooted there for several seconds. Listening. Then walked away without looking back, the pendant swinging like judgment from his belt.