The Awakening Is Not Gentle
219 Words
Chapter Six
The change did not come all at once.
It began with her teeth.
They ached, lengthening painfully, gums splitting as if her mouth were betraying her. Her spine bowed, vertebrae cracking, rearranging themselves with wet, intimate sounds that made her scream until her throat burned raw.
Her skin crawled.
Hair erupted along her arms, her back, her legs—dark, coarse, alive. Her heartbeat thundered so loudly she thought it might burst her chest open.
She fell to her knees, clutching the dirt.
And then—
She ran.
On four legs. Faster than thought. Stronger than fear. The forest blurred around her as instinct flooded in—territory, threat, hunger, rage.
When she stopped, panting, she stood before the chapel.
The Blood Moon rose.
The Night Court gathered beneath the crimson sky.
Wolves and half-wolves and things that wore human shapes too tightly circled the ancient stones. The air vibrated with chants older than language.
Morwenna stood at the altar, radiant in white fur and bone, her eyes fever-bright.
Alaric stood opposite her.
His gaze never lifted to the moon.
Because he felt her.
The doors of the chapel burst open.
Elara stepped inside—bloodstained, trembling, eyes blazing gold.
Gasps rippled through the court.
Morwenna’s smile froze.
“She is awakened,” someone whispered.
Morwenna snarled.
- Writer
