THE LAST SHADOW LUNA

What the Moon Remembers

Gerald’s POV

The Northern Citadel rose like a jagged crown of black stone driven deep into the bones of the mountain. Perched high above the frozen valley, its towering walls and narrow bridges were lit by flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows across ancient halls. The air carried the sharp scent of pine resin, cold iron, and the ever-present bite of northern winter. This was my seat of power. My fortress. And for the past three weeks, it had felt more like a cage.

I hadn’t slept a full night since Oakhaven. Every time exhaustion pulled me under, fragments of that night returned in vivid, merciless detail—her soft gasps, the way her body had arched beneath mine, the golden flare of the claiming mark as I bit down. The bond was alive now, a constant, nagging pull in my chest that refused to let me rest. My wolf paced restlessly inside me, demanding we abandon everything and hunt her down.

In the war room, I stood motionless before the massive obsidian table covered in maps, troop movements, and half-forgotten reports. The borders that once demanded my full attention now blurred into meaningless lines.

The heavy oak door creaked open. Caius stepped inside, his footsteps measured. He had served me for over a decade and knew better than most when to hold his tongue.

“My king,” he said carefully, eyes flicking over my disheveled appearance—the wrinkled shirt, the untouched food, the dark circles beneath my eyes. “The scouts have returned from the eastern ridges. Nothing unusual to report.”

I grunted in acknowledgment but offered nothing more. Caius lingered a moment longer, clearly wrestling with whether to speak his mind. Finally, he bowed slightly. “You should rest, sir. Even kings need sleep.”

“Leave it, Caius,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “There will be time for rest when she is found.”

He didn’t argue.

---

The doors burst open again sometime later.

“Cousin!” Victor’s voice rang out with false warmth as he strode in, flanked by two of his personal guards who remained just outside. His smile was sharp. “You look exhausted. The weight of the North weighing heavily on you these days?”

I straightened, watching him closely as he circled the table like a predator assessing weak prey. Victor had always been ambitious. Too ambitious.

“Border negotiations have completely stalled,” he continued, tapping one of the maps. “The southern packs smell weakness. Other alphas are starting to question your… focus. Some even whisper that the great Lycan King has been distracted by a ghost. A mysterious woman who vanished after the royal wedding.” His eyes gleamed. “A mate, perhaps?”

There it was. The subtle shift in his scent—satisfaction mixed with something darker, almost greedy. He knew. Not just rumors. Victor had real information about Catherine.

I kept my expression neutral, though my wolf surged forward with a snarl I barely contained. “You seem unusually interested in my personal affairs, cousin. One might think you were hoping for my distraction.”

Victor chuckled, but it was hollow. “Merely concerned for the stability of the realm. Family looks out for family, after all.”

“Family,” I repeated coldly. “Of course. You may leave now, Victor. I have work to do.”

He hesitated, clearly wanting to push further, but thought better of it. With one last cold smile, he bowed mockingly and departed.

The moment the doors slammed shut, I slammed my fist onto the table, cracking the stone. *He knows too much. How?*

---

Queen Rowena found me still simmering an hour later.

My mother swept into the war room like a storm, her presence commanding immediate respect. She had survived three brutal wars, outlived two husbands, and played the game of thrones like it was second nature. Politics wasn’t a hobby for her—it was blood sport.

“Dismiss your guards,” she ordered without preamble. “We speak privately.”

Once we were alone, she studied me with those piercing eyes that had always seen too much. “I will not waste time with pleasantries. Did the claiming mark take? Has it bonded with the hidden wolf girl?”

I met her gaze steadily. “Yes. It bonded.”

Rowena’s expression shifted with what looked like relief. “Then the old stories were true,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. She reached into the folds of her deep crimson cloak and withdrew a heavy stone tablet covered in glowing lunar runes that predated every modern pack alliance by centuries.

“I have hidden this since before you drew your first breath,” she said quietly, tracing the carvings with reverent fingers. “The full prophecy has waited for the right blood to awaken it. Listen carefully, my son.”

Her voice took on the rhythmic cadence of old lunar tongue as she read aloud:

“The Shadow Queen rises where the moon was buried. Her blood unlocks what the king cannot hold alone. In her wake, empires will tremble and the old bonds will break. Only together can the fractured throne endure.”

The words settled over me like winter frost, stirring something deep in my blood. My wolf quieted, listening.

Rowena lowered the tablet. “There is more, much more. But I will not reveal the rest until I have confirmed the girl’s identity beyond doubt. The moon has secrets, Gerald. And it seems one of them now wears your mark.” She placed a hand on my shoulder—rare affection from her. “Guard her well. The path ahead is darker than you know.”

With that, she left, the echo of her footsteps fading down the corridor.

I spent the rest of the night alone with the tablet, staring at the glowing runes until my eyes burned. “Shadow Queen.” The title felt both impossible and inevitable. Who was Catherine really? What had I claimed that night?

—

At midnight, I received a new report from Soren.

I read it twice, fury rising like bile in my throat.

Target has joined Darius Blackthorne’s underground network at the old textile factory.

Darius. That name alone made my blood boil. The rebel leader commanded fanatical loyalty from every outcast, abused omega, and broken half-blood across the continent. The fact that Catherine had run straight into his arms felt like a personal betrayal.

I pulled up the latest surveillance photo. Her dark hair was shorter now, face half-turned away, but still unmistakably “her”. Something in my chest clenched painfully at the sight.

I sat down and wrote my reply to Soren with deliberate, heavy strokes:

Stand down immediately. Do not engage or interfere with Darius Blackthorne’s network. Leave the girl be. Observe only.

My pen hovered, then added the final, lethal instruction:

However, if any southern trackers attempt to lay hands on her, kill them all.

I sealed and sent the message.

Almost instantly, a warm pulse echoed across the bond. Hundreds of miles away, I felt her mark flare to brilliant life. My fingers rose instinctively to the faint claiming bite on my own neck. It burned with golden heat, perfectly synchronized with hers.

I closed my eyes, letting the distant connection wash over me like a caress.

Hold on, little wolf, I thought fiercely, pushing the silent promise through the fragile golden thread that now linked us. *I know what you are. I’m coming for you soon. And when I do, nothing—and no one—will take you from me again.