THE LUNA HE THREW AWAY

Enforcers

We dived into a dense stand of thorn-bushes. The thorns tore at my skin, drawing tiny beads of blood, but I didn’t make a sound. We huddled together, me pressed between Fen’s cold, tattooed strength and Kael’s radiating heat.

The sound came again. Closer. It wasn’t a howl anymore; it was a rhythmic, clicking noise, like a dozen sets of teeth snapping in unison.

Through the leaves, I saw them.

The Enforcers didn’t look like the guards from Thornridge. They wore silvered armor that didn’t reflect the light, and they rode horses that looked as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks; ribs showing, eyes clouded with a milky haze.

In the lead was a man I recognized from the Hall. Elder Garrow. He looked down at the mud of the creek, his face a map of ancient, cruel wrinkles.

“She’s here,” Garrow said. His voice was like dry leaves skittering over stone. “I can feel the fracture in the air. The Sovereign’s stink is everywhere.”

He pulled a small, silver whistle from his vest and blew. No sound came out, but the Shriekers- pale, hairless things that looked like a cross between a wolf and a nightmare suddenly turned toward our thicket. Their ears twitched. They tilted their heads, listening for the thud of our blood.

Beside me, Kael’s breathing was too loud. His hand was white-knuckled on his knife. He was an Alpha; he wanted to lunge. He wanted to die fighting rather than hide in the dirt.

I reached out and grabbed his hand.

I didn’t think about it. I just squeezed. Stay small, I thought. Be the correction.

I didn’t use the flood. I used the current. My power was like water under ice, steady, controlled, sinking quietly into whatever cracks I pointed it toward. It wanted to surge, to overwhelm, but I pulled it tight around us instead, shaping it into a membrane of calm. I projected a layer of stillness over the three of us, not a dominance that forced them down, but a void that made us invisible to their ears. I imagined the black pool of the Hollow: still, cold, dead. In that exact hush, my magic held, not loud and roaring like a river, but deep and silent, refusing to give our panic away. By the time it was over, my head throbbed and my limbs felt heavy, each breath thick as if I'd been running for miles. The energy I spent left a cold ache spreading from my chest to my fingertips, as if part of me had seeped away with the magic.

The Shriekers stopped. They sniffed the air, their pale snouts wrinkling. They clicked their teeth, confused.

Garrow cursed. “The Growth is scrambling the signal. Move on! The western pass is the only logical route. They’re heading for Ashveil.”

The clicking faded. The hoofbeats moved off, heading away from the creek.

I didn’t let go of Kael’s hand for a long time.

When I finally did, Fen was looking at me. His silver eyes were unreadable, but his jaw was tight.

“You just hid three people from a Shrieker pack,” Fen whispered. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“I’m a correction, remember?” I said, wiping a fresh layer of mud over a scratch on my arm. My voice was steady, but inside I was vibrating. “The rules are changing.”

We stood up, the thorns drawing more blood as we untangled ourselves.

“Ashveil is another ten miles,” Kael said. He looked at me, his gaze lingering on my hand before he looked away, his face going hard again. “Rowan won’t be as easy to hide from as Garrow. He’s going to want to see the power for himself.” He hesitated, lowering his voice. "Rowan’s always watched for people who could upset the balance. My mother used to say he collects secrets like weapons, and he’s wanted to test a Sovereign for years. If he’s heard about you, he won’t settle for rumors. Not after what happened between your fathers."

“Then I’ll show him,” I said.

I started walking, leading the way this time.

“Lira,” Kael called out.

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

“What did the letter say? My father... he mentioned the correction once. When I was a boy. He said some mistakes are so old they become the foundation. He said a correction is just a polite word for demolition.”

I looked at the dark trees ahead, at the path that was becoming a war.

“He was right,” I said. “Tell your father to get ready. The demolition is coming.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond. I walked into the dark, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I was running away. I felt like I was arriving.

That night, we stopped to rest, each of us spread out in the hush of the forest. Cass returned from a perimeter check, face pinched. “No sign of pursuit. If we keep moving, we’ll hit Ashveil territory by morning.”

I wanted to ask if she thought Rowan would actually help us. I wanted to ask if any of us would survive the next twenty-four hours. What came out was, “Did you ever want to just run? Not fight, not fix, just get lost?”

Cass’s face softened, the harsh lines easing. “Every day. But lost is just another cage, Lira. At least this way, you get to pick the locks.”

That night, I sat apart from the others, the letter open on my knee. I traced the words with my finger. Not a mistake. The correction.

I thought of Jax, locked in some stone box beneath Thornridge, still trying to make me laugh. I thought of my mother, vanishing at dawn. Of Fen’s haunted eyes, Cass’s tired strength, Kael’s stubborn loyalty. I thought of the Shriekers, of Aldric, of the Council, of the world built on old mistakes and older silences. And beneath all those thoughts, there was something heavier: the fear that maybe I was not meant to fix anything at all. It was easier, once, to believe I could slip by unnoticed, to be just another piece of the foundation. Now every step forward pressed the word correction into my bones, a possibility that being the correction meant breaking things further, unraveling old bonds without knowing what might take their place. I wanted to believe I could be more than the sum of everyone else's hopes or rage, but I was not sure, I wanted the power to choose what came after the demolition.

I thought of the girl I’d been- small, compliant, desperate for the world to make space for her. And I thought, for the first time, that maybe I was done with waiting.

I closed the letter, folded it tight, and tucked it over my heart.

“We move early,” I said, voice steady.

Fen looked up, silver eyes catching the last of the moonlight. “You ready to carry it?”

“Ready or not,” I said. “It’s mine.”

And somewhere, out in the dark, I knew Jax was waiting for me to start breaking the cages, starting with my own.