The Cursed Luna’s Rise

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Forsaken Woods had a life which the daylight had never discovered. Shadows hung on each of the gnarled tree trunks, and the wind rustled in the branches like the voices she could not clearly make out. The rustling of leaves was accompanied by the slightest sensation of movement, and the fragrance of damp soil and moss was overlaid on that of something sharper, more metallic, and even tinged with blood. The beating of the heart was wild, and Elara could hear it beat. She took, very slowly, hardly to be heard, with her claws, against the rougher surface of the darkness. She was jolting at each crack of a tree. The world seemed to judge her like it had its eyes on her.

I shouldn't be here. I can't be here. However, I will grow with her in the Bloodfang Pack. I must go, though I may die in the process.

Seris was as near her as he could be, and the two made a harmonious buzz in her ears. You are what they tell you, not the lies orthe shame.

Elara swallowed hard. "I just... I only have to live through this night," I said, and my voice shook. Her breath came in white clouds, the chill piercing her mantle. The crimson moon had come up above the trees, and everything was seen in a strange unnatural light. The woods were so bright it was as if the world had gone topsy-turvy.

There was an unfamiliar warmth that rushed in her. Her blood was on fire, but not with fear; it was another thing—another, untried and rough. Her nails sunk in the ground, and blistering trails were left as fire burned up the veins. Gasping, she sank on her knees and felt the vitality rising in her.

The voice of Seris crashed in her head. You are not broken. You are becoming!

Elara dangled her hands over the dirt, fireflashing at the ends of her fingers. She was threatened by the power to swallow her as her eyes widened. She had had glimpses before, but not such. The wolf barked within her breast, angry and imperious.

And then the shadows moved.

Dark eyes shone in the darkness, deep and hungry. She stood still, and the muscles became rigid, her body shivering with anticipation and fear. One dozen rogues came out of the trees, and their nails raked, and their visages were stretched out in expectation. Elara's heart leapt. She was not alone, but only with Seris, but she was no longer afraid—not quite.

Look at her, one grumbled, and his teeth were uncovered. She is shaking, yet there is fire. Maybe she's worth the hunt."

"They will be killed first," another hissed.

The stomach of Elara turned, and she was a taller person, and the heat within her helped to normalize her nerves. "Not to fight, not to fight," she said in her little voice, which packed a strong punch. "I'm leaving. Go back."

There was a laugh that was low and cruel, and it was heard in the trees; the trees echoed it. "You think you can leave?" a voice said. Elara's stomach dropped. The figure rose out of the shadows and was not as tall as the others, but its aura was dark and commanding. His eyes were caught in her eyes, and at that moment she knew it—some universal, compelling, irresistible thing.

Ronan Duskbane.

She was half-depowered by her knees but struggled to rise. He did not simply see her but searched for her and made her uneasy and took away her clothes; she did not know how or why. And still... there was something different. A tug, near soft, but the effort that accompanied it rattled her right up to the bones.

"You are not the rest of them,"he said and spoke calmly, almost teasingly. There is fire in you... fire is dangerous, but not when kept under control.

"I... I do not know what this is. I skipped it, I said to myself, and I think the woods are feeding it. "I've never... felt it before."

"You will," he said. "If you survive the night."

Her pulse raced. "Survive the night?"

The rascals walked round her, sneering and snarling into a low growl of danger. Do you think you know who you are in front of? One of them hissed.

"I know who you are; I know you very well," heat seeping in my heart, said Elara. "And I'm not afraid!"

Ronan smiled, and his lips curved, but it was not much of a smile. Bold words, when one was left in the Forsaken Woods alone.

"No, no, I am not all by myself," she thought, hardly listening to what she was saying, so loud was the beat of her heart and the urging of Seris. "I have... fire. I have strength. I have myself!"

"You think that's enough?" and yet another raider came in, and put his claws in.

The wolf in Elara jumped on her. The life force of her blood was flashing, and sparks were leaping over her hands. She laughed, a jerking, disobedient laugh. "Try me!"

The rogues lunged. Time slowed. She moved so quickly as to frighten her own senses, evading claws and teeth, and could feel the crude strength of her blood telling her in her blood and muscles. Every blow she evaded gave her a jolt of adrenaline, and every close call was a reminder of what she might be.

Watching, Ronan said, "You got spirit; you have spirit." But it will not be spirit that will save you.

"Then tell me what will!" she said, with vexation and terror mixed in her voice.

His eyes averted a little, maybe hard to detect. "Control. You need to control it... it will eat you up before the night ends.

Elara started flailing her hands with heat, and the ground where she was could be felt smoldering with her strength. Flashes flew out, minute sparks of firelike embers. The rogues stood still with an expression of awe and fear.

"I'm not your enemy!" she shouted, her voice echoing. "But I won't let you destroy me!"

A rogue sprang forward with more rapidity. Elara hardly turned off, and with her claws she scratched the earth and left scorched spots. The feeling of being burned down her veins was exhilarating, frightening, and freeing simultaneously.

Ronan swung, and she could not follow him and stood between her and the men. "Enough!" His voice was steel, and the rogues stopped, and expressions of uncertainty came to their faces.

"You're... protecting me?" Once, with trembling voice and disbelief coloring her words, Elara asked.

"You are not ready to die," you say, he said. And I have... a vested interest in you.

"What does that even mean?" she said, in a panicked way, yet interested, too. "Why me?"

Ronan's eyes narrowed. Since the fire within you is uncommon. Dangerous. Worth... testing."

She took a swallow in an effort to put out the wildfire in her heart—no use. She was able to feel the energy of Seris throbbing in her body; all her muscles were alive, alert, and sharp. "Test me all thou want," she said tremblingly, excited and frightened. "I'll survive. I have to."

The lips were twitching, possibly in amusement. We shall see whether you will be able to survive as the night gets deeper. When the real wolves come."

"What do you mean?" she inquired harshly and withdrew with a bounding heart.

And not everything in these woods is friendly—or human; and I want the shadows to swallow me a little, he said. Some have long been waiting to see someone of your kind.

Her thoughts were scurrying, possibilities spinning within her. What else is waiting here? Were there more rogues? Ancient predators? Wizardry she was not yet aware of?

"You think you can handle that?" he shouted, calling after him, and fainting away. As will your fire burn you first?

Elara jerked her hands into fists, and the heat ran along her arms once more, and the red light of the moon flashed in her broad eyes. "I'll handle it!" she screamed, in a way that she was not quite sure she believed it, but which had to be the truth to her. "I will!"

The forest seemed to respond. The trees moved in the wind as the leaves fell about. Shadows could move like animate objects. Seris touched her leg, and his voice was even-toned yet stern. You are ready. Now show them.

The eyes of Elara ran over the darkness in one long look, and he saw all the movements, all the glimpses of teeth, and all the rustle of fur. Just retiring, the rogues were not certain, but not yet out of sight. The shadows in the background were more dangerous than she could observe. The strength that was in her was like a drumbeat, quicker and quicker, and aroused her senses and sharpened her instincts.

I can survive this. I must survive. I have fire in my veins, and I will be broken no more.

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath as she filled her lungs with fire, and her hands snapped back into attention. The woods appeared to be throbbing with her heartbeat, alive, awaiting the next thing.

A branch snapped behind her. Something heavy, rapid, and invisible had come through the undergrowth. Elara turned, gathered in its claws, and the heart throbbed. Her wolf was wild and naked.

"Show yourself!" she cried, and it was heard at a great distance and in the woods.

Silence answered at first. Then... a roar, low and threatening, and shaking the ground beneath her feet. Glittered eyes in the darkness, not Ronan, not the rogues. Something else. Something older.

Elara's breath caught. The blaze in her breast got hotter and hotter till it burned her away inside out. She might sense Seris closing in on her, corresponding her terror with vile savagery, her muscles flat set to attack.

And then out of the woods, quick and massive, there sprang a shadow, like a predatory creature that had waited a thousand years to strike its mark.

Elara shook her hands, and sparks leapt off, and her heart had to beat, and her claws had to stretch.

This would be her own fire, which would be sufficient to live through what was coming...!