Blood remembered

The air smelled like blood and silver. I was twenty-one when the moon decided I wasn’t worthy. The Great Hall was packed. Torches lined the stone walls, throwing shadows across faces I’d known my whole life. Every wolf in the Crescent Pack was here for the Mating Ceremony.The one night every year the moon chooses. My hands shook. Not from fear. From hope. Because he was standing across from me. Ryan. Alpha king 26. Broad shoulders, jaw sharp enough to cut, and eyes like a storm. The man who’d called me weak last winter. The man who’d saved me from the river when I was fourteen.The man I’d been dreaming about for so many years.The High Priestess lifted her arms. Above us, the full moon hung through the glass ceiling, too bright, too close. “Step forward,” she commanded. One by one, names were called. Bonds snapped into place. Cheers erupted. Then: “Sarah of House Vale.” My heart stopped. I stepped forward. The silver tile burned cold under my bare feet. Ryan stepped forward too. For one second, the entire hall went silent. The moonlight hit us both. It was blinding. I felt it. That pull. That ancient, violent tug in my chest. Mate. His eyes met mine and for once, there was no hate there. Just shock. The Priestess smiled. “The moon has spoken.” She raised the ceremonial dagger. And the moon... flickered. The light cracked. Like glass. A sound ripped through the hall. Not a howl. A scream. The moon above us split in half. Pain exploded across my neck. I gasped, hands flying up. Something was burning there. Carving. When I looked at Ryan, he was clutching his own throat. A mark. But not a mate mark. A broken crescent. Jagged. Black at the edges.The Priestess stumbled back, face white. “The moon... rejects you both.” Gasps. Whispers. “Abomination.” “Cursed.” “Kill them.” Ryan’s storm eyes found mine. And for the first time, we agreed on something: run.The doors slammed open behind us. Guards. We didn’t look back. Now I’m standing outside, in the snow, under a sky with a broken moon bleeding light.The mark on my neck still burns.And the mate bond that should’ve made us whole...is the thing tearing us apart.