WHEN THE MOON FORGETS US

Elara knew the moon was lying. She knew because everyone in Blackthorn Pack had gathered in the valley to watch it bleed red. Everyone except her. The first bell had sounded just after sunset, summoning every wolf in the territory to the old stone circle. By the time Elara reached the clearing, hundreds of people had already gathered beneath the ancient trees, their faces turned toward the sky. Nobody spoke above a whisper. Even the children had been warned to keep quiet. Something about tonight felt wrong. Elara stopped at the edge of the crowd and pulled her coat tighter around herself. Above them, the moon hung impossibly large. Silver at first. Then gray. Then slowly, painfully, red. A murmur moved through the crowd. Someone began praying. Another person whispered a protection charm. Elara didn't move. She had seen the Blood Moon before. At least, she thought she had. Her mother used to tell her that the moon became red every hundred years, and whenever it happened, wolves should stay inside their homes. But that was impossible. Because Elara's mother had been dead for eleven years. And according to everyone in Blackthorn, there had never been a Blood Moon during Elara's lifetime. That was one of the many things they told her she remembered incorrectly. “Elara.” She turned. Mara Voss pushed through the crowd toward her, breathing heavily. “There you are.” “I've been here.” Mara glanced around before lowering her voice. “I know. I mean, you've been standing here for almost ten minutes.” Elara frowned. “No, I haven't.” “You have.” Mara reached for her hand. Her fingers were cold. “Something feels strange.” Elara looked back at the moon. “Strange how?” “I don't know.” Mara hesitated. Then the first wolf screamed. The sound ripped through the valley. Every conversation stopped. A man near the stone circle dropped to his knees. His body jerked once. Twice. Then he collapsed. Another person screamed. Then another. Within seconds, the clearing erupted into chaos. Wolves began falling everywhere. Some clutched their heads. Some staggered backward as though they'd been struck. Others simply stared at their hands in confusion. Mara released Elara's fingers. “What is happening?” “I don't know.” Elara stepped forward. Then she felt it. A pressure behind her eyes. A strange, pulsing sensation that seemed to come from somewhere beneath the ground. The moon brightened. For one impossible second, the entire valley disappeared. Elara saw fire. A burning house. A woman running through the trees. Someone shouting her name. Then— Run. The vision vanished. Elara stumbled. “Elara!” Mara caught her before she fell. “What did you see?” Elara opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Across the clearing, the pack's warriors were trying to help the fallen wolves. Then the crowd suddenly parted. The Alpha had arrived. Kael Arden walked through the chaos with four guards behind him. He was dressed entirely in black, his expression unreadable despite the confusion surrounding him. People moved aside without being asked. That was what happened when Kael entered a room. Or a battlefield. Or a crisis. The Alpha didn't need to demand attention. He simply possessed it. His gaze swept across the valley. One fallen wolf. Then another. Then another. His jaw tightened. “Get the healers,” he ordered. Several warriors immediately obeyed. “Keep everyone inside the boundary. Nobody leaves.” Elara watched him. Something about his voice made her uneasy. Not because she feared him. Because she had heard it before. Somewhere. Long ago. Kael turned. His eyes met hers. Everything inside Elara went still. The world seemed to narrow until there was nothing left except that stare. Kael's expression changed. It was barely noticeable. A slight widening of his eyes. A breath caught between his lips. Then his face went completely pale. “Elara,” he whispered. Her heart stumbled. Mara looked at her. “What?” Elara couldn't answer. Kael was already walking toward her. One step. Then another. His guards followed, but he lifted one hand. “Stay there.” They stopped. Kael continued alone. Elara didn't move. She didn't know why she couldn't. The closer he came, the stronger that strange pressure became. Her head throbbed. Images flashed through her mind. A forest covered in snow. A pair of hands stained with blood. A silver crown. Kael standing beneath a black sky. And herself— standing opposite him. Crying. Elara blinked. The vision disappeared. Kael stopped a few feet away. His face had lost all its usual control. He looked frightened. Not angry. Not suspicious. Frightened. “You,” he said quietly. Elara swallowed. “Do I know you?” Kael stared at her. For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he whispered something that made the blood drain from Elara's face. “You're supposed to be dead.” Silence. Mara looked between them. “What?” Elara stared at Kael. “I've never met you.” Kael's eyes remained fixed on hers. “Yes,” he said. His voice was barely audible. “You have.” “I haven't.” “You don't remember.” “I would remember meeting the Alpha.” A strange expression crossed his face. Almost pain. “No.” Kael shook his head. “Not this life.” Elara's breath caught. Before she could ask what that meant, someone screamed from the other side of the clearing. “Alpha!” Kael turned. A young warrior was pointing toward the stone circle. The ancient markings carved into the ground had begun glowing. One by one, the symbols illuminated beneath the red moon. Kael's expression changed again. “Everyone back.” Nobody moved. He shouted this time. “BACK!” The crowd scattered. The ground beneath the stone circle cracked. A low rumble rolled through the valley. Then every wolf in Blackthorn screamed at once. Elara covered her ears. The pressure behind her eyes became unbearable. Something whispered inside her head. Not a voice. A memory. You promised you wouldn't forget me. Elara froze. She knew that voice. She had heard it in dreams since childhood. A boy. Always standing beside a lake. Always reaching for her hand. Always disappearing before she could see his face. Her knees weakened. “Elara!” Kael caught her arm. The moment his skin touched hers, the world exploded into memories. A castle. Torches. A woman wearing a silver crown. Hundreds of wolves kneeling. Kael—older, different, furious. And Elara standing before him. There were tears on her face. “You promised,” she whispered. Kael's voice came from somewhere inside the memory. “I know.” “Then why?” His expression broke. “Because they made me forget.” The memory shattered. Elara jerked away from him. Kael stumbled backward, staring at his own hands. Neither of them spoke. Then a voice came from the edge of the clearing. Soft. Almost amused. “You remembered her.” Kael's head snapped toward the sound. An old man stood beneath the trees. Elara had never seen him before. Yet something inside her recognized him immediately. The stranger smiled. Not kindly. Sadly. “That's unfortunate.” Kael stepped forward. “Who are you?” The stranger didn't answer. His gaze moved to Elara. For the first time that night, fear appeared in his eyes. “She's awake.” Elara's heart pounded. “What does that mean?” The stranger took one step backward into the darkness. “Ask your mother.” Elara went still. “My mother is dead.” The man's smile disappeared. “No.” He looked toward the moon. “She was erased.” Then he vanished into the forest. Kael immediately shouted for the guards to follow him. But Elara barely heard. She was staring at the place where the stranger had stood. Her mother's name had not been spoken in years. Nobody in Blackthorn talked about her. Nobody except Elara. And now this stranger had said something impossible. She was erased. Mara touched Elara's shoulder. “Elara…” “I need to go home.” “Why?” Elara looked toward the forest. “Because there's something my mother never told me.” The house was exactly as she remembered it. Small. Old. Quiet. Elara locked the door behind her and stood in the darkness. Mara had followed her home, but Elara hadn't explained anything. She didn't know how. She didn't know what was real anymore. The Blood Moon. The visions. Kael. The stranger. Her mother. She crossed the room and knelt beside the fireplace. Her mother had always kept an old wooden box beneath the loose floorboard. Elara knew that because she remembered watching her hide it. But when she'd searched for it after her mother's death, there had been nothing there. Tonight, however, the floorboard looked different. Freshly disturbed. Elara's fingers trembled as she lifted it. There was a box underneath. Black wood. Silver lock. Her heart began pounding. She pulled it out. There was no key. So she smashed the lock against the floor. Once. Twice. On the third strike, it opened. Inside was a photograph. Elara picked it up. The photograph was faded and cracked with age. Two people stood beside a lake. A young woman. And a young man. Elara's fingers tightened around the edges. She knew the woman. It was her. Not someone who looked like her. Her. The same face. The same eyes. The same small scar above her eyebrow. But the photograph was old. Very old. On the back, someone had written a date. October 17, 1923. Elara stopped breathing. Below the date were five words. Her mother's handwriting. She recognized it immediately. DON'T LET HER REMEMBER THE MOON. A floorboard creaked behind her. Elara slowly turned. Someone was standing in the doorway. Kael. His eyes were fixed on the photograph in her hand. “Elara…” She stood. “How old are you?” Kael didn't answer. She held up the photograph. “How old am I?” His face went blank. Then his eyes dropped to the woman beside him. The woman who looked exactly like Elara. Kael whispered: “God.” Elara's voice shook. “Who is she?” Kael looked at her. And this time, there was no uncertainty in his expression. Only fear. “That,” he said quietly, “is the woman I killed.”