Beneath the Crescent Mark

Chapter Two

Beneath the Crescent Mark

Chapter 2

Ravyn woke to the sound of wind rattling her window—and a pulse behind her ribs that wasn’t her own.

She sat up slowly, blinking against the strange brightness of her room. Every detail around her was sharper—each grain in the wood floor, each thread in her blanket, even the faint glimmer of dust drifting through the air. She could hear everything. A bee outside her window. A neighbor’s cat padding across the porch next door. And downstairs, the sound of her grandmother humming over the clatter of dishes.

And the heartbeat.

The faintest heartbeat from somewhere downstairs—not fast or frightened, just steady. Familiar.

Her senses were overloaded. It was too much and yet… weirdly natural. Like her body had just remembered what it was always meant to do.

Something had shifted.

The old life she knew had cracked quietly, and whatever was waiting beneath it was starting to rise.

She slipped out of bed and moved to her dresser mirror, pulling down the neck of her sleep shirt. The black crescent gleamed against her skin, as vivid as it had been the night before. Maybe more so.

So, it hadn’t been a dream after all. The voices she’d heard last night—her grandmother talking to someone in hushed, urgent tones—those had been real. The mark on her collarbone, the one she’d desperately hoped would disappear by morning, was still there.

Her heart hammered as she stared at her reflection. Should she go downstairs and demand answers? Confront her mother and grandmother about the whispered conversation she’d overheard? Or should she be cautious, see what they would tell her first—if they told her anything at all?

Something in her gut told her to wait. To listen. To see how much they were willing to reveal before she showed her hand.

She took a deep breath, smoothing down her hair and adjusting her sleep shirt to make sure the mark was completely hidden. Whatever was happening, she needed to act normal. Innocent. Like she was just a regular girl waking up on her eighteenth birthday, oblivious to mysterious marks and midnight conversations.

**Downstairs**

“Morning, birthday girl,” Iris said as Ravyn padded into the kitchen, eyes bleary. “You look pale.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, taking a seat at the table. “That’s what every girl wants to hear on her eighteenth birthday.”

Iris poured her tea—peppermint, Ravyn’s favorite—and set down a plate of toast she hadn’t asked for. “It’s probably nerves. Or hormones. Or something cosmic. Who knows?”

Ravyn raised an eyebrow. “Cosmic?”

Her grandmother smiled tightly. “Figure of speech.”

But everything felt… off. Like everyone was pretending today was normal, even though nothing about it felt that way.

Her mother was already dressed, pacing the living room with her cell pressed to her ear.

“No. Not yet,” Elena was saying. “I don’t think she knows. But something’s happening. Her mark appeared.”

She froze mid-step when she saw Ravyn watching her.

“Gotta go,” she whispered into the phone and hung up. “Morning, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Ravyn said slowly. “Who were you talking to?”

“Work,” her mother said too quickly. “One of the nurses. We’re short-staffed today.”

Ravyn wasn’t buying it and now seemed like the perfect time to get some answers. But before she could push further, a knock echoed from the front door.

It was early. Too early for visitors.

Her mother and grandmother stiffened.

“I’ll get it,” Elena said, already moving.

Ravyn rose too, curiosity overtaking her. “Is it Cassian?”

“No,” her mother said quietly. “It’s not.”

She opened the door—and a gust of cold air swept in, along with the presence of someone who hadn’t walked these floors in eighteen years. Or so she thought.

He was tall. Taller than anyone she knew. Broad shoulders filled out his dark coat, and even beneath the fabric, she could see the solid, muscular build of someone who knew hard work. Dressed in a dark coat, hood still pulled up against the morning chill. But his eyes, when they met hers, were unmistakable.

Green eyes just like hers—gentle despite the commanding presence that seemed to fill the entire doorway, holding the wisdom of decades in their depths.

The air in the room seemed to still. Even the wind held its breath.

“Elena,” the man said.

Her mother stepped in front of Ravyn before she could say a word. “I told you earlier not to come back here.”

“I had no choice,” he replied. “She’s marked. You knew this day would come.”

Ravyn blinked. “Wait—who—”

Her grandmother’s voice, soft but unshaken, cut through the silence. “Let him in.”

“Mother —” Elena started, but Iris shook her head.

“She deserves the truth.”

He pulled his hood back slowly. His hair was dark at the roots, silver at the ends. His face was sharp, weathered by time and distance, but there was no denying it—the same bone structure, the same determined set to the jaw. His hands, when he reached up to lower the hood, were calloused and strong, the hands of someone who had worked with them for years.

He looked like her.

“Ravyn,” he said gently. “I’m your father.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Eighteen years of questions, of wondering why he’d left, of being told he simply couldn’t handle being a father—and here he was. Standing in their living room like he belonged there. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a mixture of anger, confusion, and something she didn’t want to name. Hope.

**The Truth Unfolds**

They sat in the living room. The tea grew cold. No one touched the cinnamon rolls.

“I left to keep you safe,” her father—his name was Eryx—began. “Not because I didn’t want you. Your mother knows this.”

“I know you told me,” Elena said bitterly. “But you still left.”

“I had to. You have no idea what would’ve happened if the vampires had found you before today.”

Ravyn stared at him. “I’m sorry. Vampires?”

Eryx nodded. “And werewolves. You’re not human, Ravyn. Not fully.”

Her laugh was humorless. “Sure. And I’m also secretly a unicorn.”

He didn’t smile. Instead, he slowly pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. Ravyn saw the sharp black ink along his forearm: a double-mark—crescent and fang intertwined.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Ravyn,” Eryx said quietly, his green eyes serious. “And unfortunately, there isn’t a lot of time for you to understand it all. What I’m about to tell you is going to change your whole world, but I need you to be strong.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle but urgent. “The world is ruled by three races,” Eryx said. “Vampires. Werewolves. And humans. The first two know about each other. The third doesn’t. The balance between them is fragile. And your existence… threatens it.”

Her breath caught.

“You’re the first being born of all three,” he continued. “Human mother. Vampire-werewolf hybrid father. You’re a new kind of legacy.”

“That’s not possible,” Ravyn whispered. “That’s not—”

“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” he asked. “The dreams. The heightened senses. The pull beneath your skin.”

Ravyn’s hand drifted to the mark on her collarbone. Still burning. Still real.

“The mark,” she said. “What is it?”

“A sign of awakening,” Eryx said. “The moment your blood begins to remember what it is. What it’s capable of.”

Elena reached out. “I didn’t want this for you. I wanted you to have a normal life. A safe one.”

Ravyn felt the room spinning again. The air seemed too thick, the lights too bright. It was like the world she knew was breaking apart—and she didn’t know if she wanted to catch the pieces.

Eryx leaned forward, tone gentler now. “I didn’t come here to overwhelm you. I came to help you. You’re going to need guidance. Training. But not all at once.”

She looked up at him, her voice low. “So, what happens now?”

“For today,” he said, “you just be eighteen. Go to the lake. Celebrate. Let things feel normal—if only for a little while.”

Ravyn frowned. “That’s it?”

“For now. I’ll keep my distance. But tomorrow… we start.”

**The Birthday Gathering – Lake Marrow**

The wind off the water was crisp, but the sun did its best to make up for it. Streamers fluttered lazily from the branches of the pine trees surrounding the lake, and a small cluster of Ravyn’s friends had gathered near a worn picnic table, where snacks and mismatched plates had already started to pile up.

Cassian stood barefoot at the edge of the water, sleeves rolled up, laughing as he tried—and failed—to catch a frisbee one of the guys launched too high. His dark blond hair caught the light, and for a moment, he looked just like he always did: effortless, magnetic, calm.

Ravyn smiled faintly. She needed normal. She needed this.

“Birthday girl has arrived!” called Marissa, one of her oldest friends, holding up a cupcake with a sparkler jammed in it. “And she didn’t even make us hunt her down.”

“Only because there’s sugar involved,” Ravyn said, trying to sound like herself again.

Cassian was at her side in a moment, slipping an arm around her waist. His five-eleven frame towered over her as he leaned down to murmur, “You okay?” his voice low.

“I am now,” she lied. She let him kiss her cheek, hoping it would ground her. Hoping it would feel the same.

But something had shifted.

He turned back to the group, effortlessly charming as always, and Ravyn tried to join in—laughing when she was supposed to, unwrapping gifts, pretending not to notice the strange sensitivity that clung to her skin. Everything smelled too strong, sounded too sharp. The wind tasted like rain before it came, and she could hear every footstep on the rocky trail behind them.

She tensed before she even saw him.

Eryx stepped out from the treeline a moment later, calm but unmistakably deliberate. Dressed in a dark button-down and jeans, his broad shoulders and solid build might have passed for someone’s cool older cousin—if not for the way the world seemed to hush around him, responding to the quiet authority he carried like a mantle.

Cassian’s smile faltered.

Their eyes locked across the clearing.

“Who’s that?” Marissa asked, glancing between Ravyn and the man approaching with quiet intensity.

Ravyn opened her mouth, but her throat closed around the words. She didn’t know what to say. Not yet.

Cassian stepped forward before she could speak, his whole frame shifting subtly—shoulders straightening, stance anchoring. His lean, athletic build tensed with barely contained energy.

“Friend of yours?” he asked her, but his blue eyes never left Eryx.

Eryx stopped a few feet away. His gaze flicked between Cassian and Ravyn, assessing, unreadable. “I’m just here to see my daughter,” he said, voice mild.

Cassian’s entire body went still.

“Daughter?” he echoed. His tone was polite, but Ravyn could hear the edge under it.

Ravyn swallowed hard. “Cassian… this is my father.”

Neither moved.

Cassian’s jaw worked silently for a second, then he offered a faint smile. “Didn’t know he was coming today.”

“Neither did I,” Ravyn muttered.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Eryx said.

“You are,” Cassian said smoothly. “But I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.”

Ravyn stepped between them instinctively, heart pounding.

Her party was unraveling—sunlight and cupcakes and sparklers dimming under the weight of new yet old shadows.

Cassian’s fingers brushed hers, light but grounding. “We can talk later,” he said. “When it’s just us.”

Eryx didn’t say a word, but his expression said plenty.

Ravyn felt it again—that low pull in her chest, that tension humming between two worlds that were never meant to meet.

And now, they already had.