Chapter 9: Whispers of the Mark
1077 Words
The scent of damp moss and old stone lingered in the air long after the man vanished. Aelira sat in silence, staring at the space he had occupied. The circle of silver-blue light around her slowly faded, leaving only the stone altar’s quiet hum.
Thalia knelt beside her. “What was that? Who was he?”
“I don’t know,” Aelira said softly, her voice distant. “But he knew what I am.”
Thalia frowned, watching her closely. “You mean… the Blessed Luna?”
The words still felt strange, heavy. Like a cloak Aelira hadn’t chosen to wear.
“I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered.
“I don’t think you were given a choice,” Thalia replied. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t decide how to carry it.”
Aelira looked down at the mark on her wrist. It no longer pulsed, but it shimmered faintly in the morning light, as though it remembered the danger.
“I need to understand it,” Aelira said. “This mark. These stones. All of it.”
Thalia stood slowly and offered a hand. “Then we start where all stories start. With the truth.”
They spent the rest of the morning clearing more of the moss and vines. The altar was much larger than they first thought, it stretched in a wide arc, forming what looked like a broken circle. Cracks lined the stone, but the carvings were still mostly intact.
They found more verses hidden beneath layers of time.
"The bond once broken shall return anew,
But only if the heart is true."
"Darkness walks with skin of kin,
Light shall rise where fire has been."
Aelira traced the lines with her fingers.
“Do you think this is about Kaelen?” Thalia asked cautiously.
Aelira hesitated. “Maybe. But I think it’s more than just him. This place… it remembers everything. Like it’s alive.”
As she spoke, a soft wind stirred the trees, and a whisper carried on the breeze, not words, exactly, but a feeling. A pull.
“Did you hear that?” Aelira asked.
Thalia shook her head. “I heard the wind.”
Aelira’s eyes narrowed. “No. It was something else. Like… a voice inside me.”
She stood, slowly walking toward a smaller stone to the left of the altar. It was older, covered in thick moss. As she brushed it away, her heart skipped.
Beneath the moss was a carving of a woman’s face, serene, strong, crowned in moonlight. Her eyes were familiar.
Aelira’s breath caught. “It’s her. The first Luna.”
Thalia stared. “She looks like you.”
Aelira nodded, unable to look away. “She’s the one from my dreams.”
Suddenly, a chill swept through the clearing.
The trees darkened, and the air grew heavy.
Thalia stepped back. “Aelira…”
The mark on Aelira’s wrist flared again.
And then everything changed.
The forest around them shimmered and dissolved just for a moment and in its place, a vision bloomed.
A temple stood where the stones now rested, silver banners fluttering in the wind. Wolves walked in pairs, armored, noble, quiet. At the center stood the Luna, not Aelira, but the woman from the carving, speaking to a gathering of alphas.
“We cannot trust them,” one of the alphas shouted. “She grows too powerful!”
“She has brought peace,” another argued. “Prosperity!”
“She has no mate!” the first growled. “No Alpha by her side! It is unnatural!”
The Luna lifted her hand. “Enough.”
Her voice was calm, but firm. “Power does not need to be controlled by fear. I lead with balance not chains.”
The crowd murmured, torn between awe and resentment.
Then, the vision shattered.
Aelira gasped and stumbled back.
“What… was that?” Thalia asked, wide-eyed.
“A memory,” Aelira whispered. “Or a warning.”
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
“She stood alone,” she said. “Even when they doubted her. And they turned on her. I felt it.”
---
Meanwhile, Kaelen rode again. This time not in search of rogues, but of answers. The scroll he found had left him shaken, but more than that, it had awakened something in him. A regret he had buried.
Malric rode beside him, silent for a time before speaking.
“You really believe she’s the one from the prophecy?”
Kaelen didn’t answer at first.
“She was always different,” he finally said. “I just never looked close enough.”
Malric nodded. “You pushed her away.”
“I was afraid,” Kaelen admitted. “Of her light. Of what it meant for me.”
They reached a small cabin in the woods, old, covered in vines, forgotten by time. It belonged to an elder, one who knew more than most.
Kaelen knocked once.
The door opened slowly.
A woman stood there, her eyes clouded with age, but bright with knowing.
“Alpha Kaelen,” she said. “I wondered how long it would take you.”
He bowed his head. “Elder Neris. I need to understand.”
She stepped aside. “Then come in. And be ready. The truth weighs more than guilt.”
---
Back in the clearing, Aelira sat quietly beside the altar.
Thalia brought her a pouch of water and a slice of dried fruit.
“We should rest,” Thalia said gently.
But Aelira shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
She reached into the earth and pulled free a small, silver shard half-buried near the base of the altar.
It was a piece of a mirror.
She stared into it, and for a moment, she didn’t see her own reflection.
She saw the Luna again and this time, she was crying.
The wind whispered again, a word this time.
“Remember.”
Aelira gripped the shard tighter.
“I will,” she promised.
And far away, in the shadows, another watched her.
The man in the dark robes, his eyes filled with fury.
“She awakens too quickly,” he growled. “We must move faster.”
Beside him, another figure emerged, a woman with silver hair and a cruel smile.
“We will,” she said. “And when she steps beyond that stone circle… she will belong to us.”
- Writer
