Marked by The Moon

The Dreaming Moon

Ayla’s POV

Sleep pulled me under like a tide.

One moment I was watching Damon from the cot, his head tilted against the back of the chair, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The next, the world slipped sideways.

I stood barefoot in a field of silver grass. Moonlight poured over everything, soft and endless, like the stars had spilled onto the earth. The wind was warm. Familiar. My skin tingled where it touched me, like it knew who I was.

But I didn’t.

Not really.

I turned slowly, and there—just beyond the clearing—I saw two figures. A man and a woman, hand in hand, half-shrouded by the trees. The woman turned slightly, and I caught a glimpse of her face.

A breath punched out of me.

Mom.

Even though I barely remembered her, I knew. Something deep in my chest ached like a wound I’d forgotten how to feel.

She smiled—small, soft, knowing—and then turned away.

Before I could run to her, the shadows crawled in.

Wolves emerged from the trees. Massive. Twisted. Eyes red and gleaming like coals. Their bodies didn’t move like wolves. They dragged themselves forward in broken, jerking motions. Wrong. Hungry.

I took a step back, heart slamming in my chest—

Then the moon exploded into light.

It flared so brightly I had to cover my face.

When I opened my eyes again, the field was gone.

I stood in a forest of white trees, snow falling slow and silent.

And in front of me was her.

She wasn’t glowing. Not in the way I expected. But she didn’t need to. Her presence filled the space like gravity—quiet and powerful. Her skin was pale, her eyes silver, and her hair shimmered like moonlit water.

She looked… tired.

But kind.

“You finally came,” she said.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

She stepped closer, reaching up to gently press two fingers to my chest, just over my heart. Her touch wasn’t cold or warm—just true. Like it saw me all the way through.

“You’ve been asleep too long, little wolf.”

I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper. “What is this?”

“Memory. Prophecy. Something in between.”

Tears stung the backs of my eyes. “Was that my mom?”

Her expression softened. “Yes. She’s still with you.”

The air shimmered again, and her gaze grew more serious.

“They’re coming,” she said. “Not just to find you. To stop you.”

I blinked, confusion cutting through the haze. “Stop me from what?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just brushed a strand of hair from my face and said, “You carry more than you know. It’s waking up. And not everyone wants you to remember.”

My breath hitched. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” she said gently. “But when the choice comes—choose love. Even when it burns.”

The wind surged through the trees, and everything began to break apart. Her voice was the last thing I heard.

“Trust yourself.”

I woke with a gasp.

The fire was nearly out. Cold air clung to my skin. My body felt too light, too loose, like I hadn’t returned all the way.

My heart was racing.

Sweat clung to my hairline.

I sat up too fast, the blanket falling off my shoulders.

“Ayla?”

Damon’s voice was rough with sleep. He was already on his feet, crouched beside me before I could answer.

His hand hovered near my arm but didn’t touch. “What happened?”

I tried to speak, but my throat felt like it had closed. The dream clung to me like fog. Heavy. Cold. Real.

“I… I had a dream,” I finally said. “No, not a dream. It was more.”

Damon’s eyes searched mine. “What did you see?”

I shook my head slowly. “My mother. I think. And… her. The Moon Goddess.”

He froze.

“She said I’ve been asleep,” I whispered. “That something’s waking up in me.”

Damon didn’t speak.

I looked down at my hands, still shaking. “I don’t know what any of it meant.”

“You don’t have to yet,” he said. His voice was soft. Steady. “Just breathe.”

I nodded, breath hitching. I didn’t trust myself to say anything more.

He stood and crossed to the hearth, adding a log to the fire. The flame cracked weakly, catching slowly. I watched him in silence, my body still trembling.

When he returned, he didn’t ask anything else.

He just sat down in the chair again, closer this time.

Close enough that if I needed him—

He’d be there.