What The Moon Remembers
1515 Words
Chapter 4:What the Moon Remembers.
The silence after Rhydian’s words is worse than the truth itself.
They sealed your wolf.
The thought echoes through me, loud and relentless, like the chamber itself is repeating it back. My chest burns, heat curling deep beneath my skin, unfamiliar and alive. I cling to Rhydian’s arms, fingers digging into his shirt as the room tilts.
Sealed.
Not gone.
Not broken.
Waiting.
My breathing turns shallow. Every inhale feels too sharp, every exhale too slow, like my body is struggling to remember how to exist the way it used to.
“Easy,” Rhydian murmurs, his voice steady even as his arms tighten around me. “Breathe.”
I try.
The healer stands a few steps away, watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. Not fear. Not pity.
Recognition.
That frightens me more than anything else.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I whisper, the words scraping my throat raw. “Why let me believe I was… empty?”
“Because it was safer that way,” the healer says quietly.
I jerk my gaze to her. “For who?”
“For everyone,” she answers.
Rhydian stiffens behind me, and I feel it instantly through the bond. Tension coils tight, sharp and restrained. He does not like this conversation. Not here. Not now.
But it’s already too late.
“They were afraid,” the healer continues, stepping closer. “Not of you. Of what you might become.”
Something inside me reacts to that. Not anger.
Memory.
It flickers just out of reach, like a shadow passing through fog. My head throbs, a dull pressure building behind my eyes.
“What am I?” I ask.
Rhydian’s grip tightens again, grounding.
“You are my mate.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say, my voice shaking despite myself. “Not anymore.”
The healer studies me for a long moment. Then she exhales slowly, as if making a decision she’s avoided for years.
“There are wolves born under rare moons,” she says. “Moons that do not bless,they awaken.”
The words settle heavy in the air.
“Awaken what?” I ask.
She glances at Rhydian.
“The old instincts,” he says flatly. “The ones we buried.”
My heart stutters. “Buried?”
“For a reason,” he adds.
A low hum rises in my ears. The bond pulses, restless and uneasy, like it knows we’re circling something dangerous. My skin feels too tight again, heat licking along my spine.
“The night you were born,” the healer says, her voice softer now, “the moon was red.”
I flinch. I don’t know why, but the word sends a shiver through me.
“The Blood Moon,” Rhydian mutters.
The healer nods. “A moon of balance breaking. Of wolves who do not bow easily to pack law. Wolves whose power does not settle quietly into flesh.”
My mouth feels dry. “You’re saying… I was dangerous. As a baby.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “You were loud. You were strong. And your wolf reached for the world before your body was ready to hold it.”
A sharp pain slices through my head, sudden and blinding. I gasp, pressing a hand to my temple as something flashes behind my eyes.
Dark forest.
Moonlight stained red.
A cry,raw and feral,tearing through the night.
I stagger.
Rhydian swears under his breath and pulls me closer, one hand cradling the back of my head. “That’s enough,” he snaps at the healer. “You’re pushing her.”
“She needs to remember,” the healer insists. “Before others force it out of her.”
My breath catches. “Others?”
Rhydian goes still.
The bond tightens, sharp and alert now, like a warning bell.
“There have been disturbances,” the healer says carefully. “Wolves restless. Bonds reacting strangely. The seals weakening.”
A cold weight settles in my stomach. “Because of me.”
“Yes,” she says.
Rhydian’s jaw clenches. “No more tonight.”
The healer hesitates, then bows her head. “As you wish, Your Majesty."
She turns to leave, pausing at the door.
“But know this,” she adds without looking back. “Once a sealed wolf begins to stir, it does not return to sleep.”
The door closes behind her with a heavy finality.
The chamber feels smaller after that. Too quiet. Too aware.
I lean fully into Rhydian, exhaustion crashing over me all at once. My limbs feel heavy, my thoughts slow and tangled.
“I’m not what you thought,” I whisper.
He lift my chin up gently, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, steady, unwavering.
“You are exactly what I thought,” he says.
That should comfort me.
It doesn’t.
“What happens now?” I ask.
Rhydian’s thumb brushes lightly beneath my eye, a touch so careful it almost hurts. “Now, we protect you.”
“From who?”
His gaze flicks briefly toward the door. “From those who would either fear you or use you.”
Sleep comes in fragments.
When I finally doze, it is not peaceful.
The dream returns, sharper this time.
I stand at the edge of the forest, bare feet sinking into damp earth. The moon looms overhead, swollen and crimson. My chest aches, power coiled tight inside me, begging for release.
Voices whisper from the trees.
Mine.
Not yet, the voice growls. Soon.
I wake with a cry.
Dawn spills pale light across the chamber, soft and deceptively calm. My body feels wrong,charged, restless, like something inside me has shifted during the night.
Rhydian is gone.
Panic flares briefly before I sense him near, but distant. The bond stretches thin, taut with tension.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Come in,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
A servant enters, eyes downcast. “His Majesty requests your presence in the council chamber.”
My stomach twists.
The council.
I dress slowly, every movement deliberate, as if I’m afraid moving too fast will wake whatever is curled inside me. By the time I step into the corridor, the palace feels different.
Watching.
Whispers trail behind me as I walk. I don’t need heightened senses to feel the stares pressing into my back.
They know.
The council chamber doors loom ahead, carved with ancient runes I’ve never noticed before. My palm tingles as I push them open.
The room falls silent.
Rhydian stands at the head of the table, crown in place, posture rigid. The elders sit along the sides, their gazes sharp and assessing.
And then I feel it.
A pull.
Not the bond.
Something else.
My eyes snap to the far end of the chamber and meet a stranger’s gaze.
His eyes are silver.
Not warm like Rhydian’s.
Hungry.
He smiles slowly, like he’s found exactly what he’s been searching for.
The room holds its breath.
And deep beneath my skin, my wolf stirs for him.
The silence that follows feels wrong.
Not calm. Not relief.
Waiting.
The bond hums low in my chest, uneasy, like it senses something I can’t see yet. My skin prickles. The air tastes sharp, metallic, as if a storm is about to break indoors.
Rhydian still hasn’t moved.
His attention isn’t on me anymore.
It’s fixed on the shadows near the far wall... the place where torchlight refuses to settle.
“Rhydian?” I whisper.
He lifts one finger.
Stay quiet.
My pulse stutters.
The shadows shift.
At first, I think it’s my imagination. Then the stone itself seems to breathe. A thin crack snakes along the wall, spreading slowly, deliberately, as if something on the other side is pushing through.
Cold spills into the room.
Not the absence of warmth, but something deeper. Older.
The bond reacts violently.
Pain pierce through my chest, sharp enough to steal my breath. I cry out, clutching at myself as heat surges beneath my skin, wild and untamed. It doesn’t feel sealed anymore.
It feels angry.
Rhydian swears under his breath.
“So soon,” he mutters.
The crack widens.
A whisper slips through, layered and wrong, not one voice but many, all speaking at once.
We feel you.
My knees buckle.
Rhydian is beside me instantly, one arm locking around my waist, the other already drawn back, power coiling around him like a living thing.
“You should not be awake yet,” he growls toward the wall.
The whisper curls into a laugh.
You can’t hide her anymore.
The stone shatters.
Darkness pours into the room, thick and writhing, carrying eyes that shine the same molten gold as Rhydian’s and something else beneath it.
Recognition.
Fear slams into me, raw and undeniable.
Because whatever has crossed into the chamber isn’t here for the Alpha King.
It steps fully into the light.
And the sealed thing inside my chest doesn’t just answer back,
it recognizes it.
- Writer
