MOONBOUND

Worth The Hunt

They didn’t sleep that night.

Lyra sat wrapped in a thick blanket near the fire, hands clasped tightly in her lap. The warmth didn’t reach all the way in. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the snap of the snare again—the sudden emptiness where the moon had been.

Rowan stood across the clearing, speaking in low, urgent tones with the elders.

She didn’t need enhanced hearing to know they were arguing.

“She draws them,” one voice hissed.

“She will bring war to our borders,” another said.

“She already has.”

Rowan’s reply was quiet, but it carried. “She didn’t choose this.”

“No,” Elder Maerith answered. “But others will choose her.”

Lyra’s mark pulsed faintly, reacting to the tension. She pressed her palm over it, breath unsteady.

Rowan turned away from the elders and walked toward her, his expression carved from restraint. He knelt in front of her, lowering himself until they were eye level.

“They weren’t ordinary hunters,” he said. “The snare they used—only one kind of bloodline can feel its absence that sharply.”

Lyra swallowed. “What kind?”

Rowan hesitated.

That frightened her more than any answer.

“Moonbound like you don’t just exist,” he said finally. “They appear once in generations. Sometimes less.”

The fire crackled between them.

“You don’t draw strength from the moon,” he continued. “You anchor it.”

Lyra’s chest tightened. “I don’t understand.”

“The moon governs us,” Rowan said. “Our shifts. Our instincts. Our bonds. But you—” His voice dropped. “You can steady it. Bend it. Silence it… or awaken it.”

Her breath caught.

“That’s why the mark reacts to danger,” he went on. “That’s why the forest listens when you step into it. That’s why hunters, rogue packs, and worse will risk everything to claim you.”

“Claim me how?” she whispered.

Rowan’s jaw tightened. “As a weapon. As a key. As leverage.”

The elders approached then, their faces grave.

“If she stays,” Maerith said, “we will be attacked.”

Lyra stood.

Her legs trembled, but she stood anyway.

“Then I’ll leave,” she said. “I won’t be the reason your people die.”

A sharp growl tore from Rowan’s chest. “No.”

She turned to him, eyes shining. “I won’t be hunted through you.”

He rose to his full height, stepping in front of her like a wall. “You are not a burden. You are not a curse. And you are not walking into danger alone.”

The elders exchanged looks.

“She doesn’t know her full ability,” one murmured. “If awakened improperly—”

“—she could unbalance everything,” Maerith finished.

Lyra felt it then.

The truth settling deep in her bones.

They weren’t afraid of losing her.

They were afraid of what she could become.

Rowan took her hand, firm and grounding. “That is the risk,” he said. “Not that they’ll take you.”

His thumb brushed her knuckles, steady despite the storm in his eyes.

“But that they’ll force you to awaken before you’re ready.”

The moon slid from behind the clouds, silver light spilling into the clearing.

Lyra’s mark warmed.

And somewhere far beyond the forest, something ancient stirred—aware now that the Moonbound had been found.