Luna’s Secret
The moon hung high over the pack’s fortress, pale and pitiless. The halls were silent now — Derrick’s rage had burned itself to silence, and the wolves had retreated to their quarters, wary of their Alpha’s temper.
Mona moved through the darkness like it belonged to her. Her bare feet made no sound against the marble floors, her golden robe whispering softly with each step. She paused before the great doors of the Luna’s chamber — her chamber — and pushed them open.
Inside, the air was cool, perfumed faintly with jasmine and blood. The room shimmered with beauty: silken curtains, glass vials glowing faintly with potion light, an altar carved with the sigil of the Blood Moon.
But at the center of it all stood a mirror — tall, ancient, and rimmed in silver etched with runes
