Shadows in the spine
1017 Words
The nightmares came back that night.
Not whispers or distant shadows like before—this time, they came clawing.
Calla saw herself running barefoot through the forest, chased not by wolves, but by eyes. Glowing silver, golden, red. She turned to fight but found her hands were bound, her voice locked inside her throat. The trees bled as she passed. The moon above her cracked and wept light. Then a snarl—too deep to be human—echoed behind her.
She turned.
And saw herself.
Or... something wearing her face. With jagged teeth, black veins, and a mark across its chest glowing brighter than fire.
She screamed.
And woke up gasping.
---
Riven was already there, sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless as always, his eyes shadowed but alert.
“Another vision?”
Calla nodded, dragging a trembling hand through her sweat-drenched hair. “It wasn’t just a dream. It was like... a warning.”
He passed her a glass of water, watching her closely. “The mark is reacting. It flared in your sleep.”
“Why now?” she asked. “What triggered it?”
“You’ve bonded. You’ve taken the Blood Oath. The magic that was dormant in you is waking up. But it’s waking wrong.”
“Wrong?”
He leaned forward. “Moonblood wasn’t meant to be sealed. Whatever was done to you—to hide what you are—it’s unraveling. And your body is catching up faster than your mind can handle.”
Calla looked at him. “So what, I’m unraveling too?”
He didn’t answer.
But his silence said enough.
---
Later that morning, Rhea took her into the Spine—a stretch of forest behind the Thornveil estate reserved for private training. It was old land, thick with moss and runes carved into tree bark. No birds sang there. The shadows watched.
“This is where the pack tests potential warriors,” Rhea said. “But we’re not testing your strength.”
“Then what?”
“Your control.”
Calla swallowed hard.
She was handed a dagger. Ancient. Silver. Its hilt was carved with thorned vines.
Rhea’s smile was cruel. “Let’s see if the beast inside you understands pain.”
The next hour was blood and sweat and teeth.
Calla was fast—faster than she should’ve been. She blocked every blow Rhea threw, but every cut felt like fire licking her skin. Still, something else rose beneath the pain: pleasure. The rush of her blood, the heat in her veins—it made her want more.
She moved like something ancient. Not trained. Not human.
She moved like instinct.
And when she finally slammed Rhea to the forest floor, dagger to her throat, breathing wild and unhinged—Rhea laughed.
“You’re not hiding it anymore,” she said. “Good.”
Calla stared at the blade in her hand. Her arm trembled.
“I almost killed you.”
Rhea stood and dusted herself off. “No. You almost lost yourself. There’s a difference.”
---
By the time they returned to the estate, Calla’s legs ached, and her arms were lined with shallow cuts. The servants avoided her gaze. The guards stiffened at her scent.
Riven waited by the fire.
He stood when he saw her.
“You pushed her too far,” he snapped at Rhea.
Rhea raised a brow. “She needed to be pushed. She didn’t break.”
Calla stepped between them. “Stop.”
She faced Riven. “You told me to embrace it. I’m trying. But I need to know the truth. No more riddles. No more warnings. What exactly is the Moonblood?”
He hesitated.
Then nodded once. “Come with me.”
---
He led her deep into the manor, down through stone staircases slick with moss. They passed iron doors and forgotten rooms until they reached a hidden chamber carved into the earth itself.
Inside was a pedestal.
And on it, an old book.
The cover was bound in dark leather, etched with the same mark that burned on her neck.
Riven opened it.
“Moonblood,” he began, “was not born. She was created. By the first Alpha witches, during a war so old the stars were still young. She was meant to be a weapon. But she became something else. Something more.”
Calla’s throat tightened.
“She had the power to control wolves, rewrite the bond of pack and mate. She could command Alpha blood to kneel... or tear them apart with a word. But her power was feared. Coveted. Betrayed.”
Riven turned the page. There was a sketch.
A woman in flames. A crown of thorns. Wolves howling in a ring around her.
“She died in fire,” he said. “And the magic was sealed—until now.”
Calla’s knees went weak.
“You think I’m her reincarnation.”
“I know you are.”
---
A cold silence fell.
“I can’t be a weapon,” Calla whispered.
“You’re not,” Riven said. “You’re a choice. One the world thought it erased. And now it wants you dead before you can choose for yourself.”
“Why not let it?” she said, bitter.
He stepped closer.
“Because I’ve seen what happens if you die.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
His voice dropped. “Everything burns. And I burn with it.”
Calla looked into his eyes, and for the first time, she saw fear—not of her, but for her. It twisted something in her chest she hadn’t known she still had. Something fragile.
She backed away.
“I need time,” she said. “To think. To breathe.”
Riven didn’t stop her.
She left the chamber with her heart pounding and the weight of a dead woman’s fate pressing into her spine. Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the stone path. But the light didn’t reach her bones.
She was Moonblood.
And the world would never let her forget it.
- Writer
