Episode Six: The Moon’s Mark
1336 Words
The hunting lodge creaked beneath the weight of time, its wood swollen by moss and memory. The hearth was cold, the windows broken, and the floorboards warped, but it was shelter. For now, that was enough.
Selene crouched near the cracked hearth, striking flint to spark a fire. Her fingers trembled—not from cold, but from everything else. The betrayal. The escape. The bond.
The kiss.
She could still feel it—his mouth against hers, the heat of his touch, the rawness of it all.
And the way her wolf had howled, fierce and triumphant.
A fire finally caught, flames licking the damp logs. Warmth spread through the room slowly, crackling softly beneath the silence.
Killian paced at the far end of the lodge, restless, watching the trees beyond the broken shutters. He hadn’t said much since they fled. He was trying to stay calm, Selene could tell, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
Nyra returned from outside, her boots damp with dew. “We’re clear. No scouts, no scent trails. They won’t find us tonight.”
Killian turned. “Tonight.”
Nyra gave him a look. “They’ll start tracking at dawn, if they haven’t already. You know how they work.”
“I do,” he said, voice low.
Selene stood, brushing ash from her hands. “Then we don’t wait. We move before sunrise.”
“No,” Killian said quickly, moving toward her. “You’re exhausted. You haven’t slept. You can’t lead if you’re dead on your feet.”
Selene’s brows rose. “And you can?”
His golden eyes locked on hers. “I’ve been running my whole life. I can go a little farther.”
She didn’t back down. “You’re not the only one with scars, Killian.”
Nyra gave a tired sigh and threw her cloak over a broken chair. “Alright, lovers, let’s not turn this into a dominance contest. You’re both stubborn. We rest for a few hours, then move.”
Killian muttered something under his breath but sat near the fire.
Selene joined him, leaning her back against the wall. Her eyes flicked toward him, uncertain. “I didn’t mean to fight. I’m just… still adjusting to this. To everything.”
He didn’t look at her. “You think I’m not?”
She lowered her voice. “Then talk to me. What are you thinking?”
Killian was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he whispered, “That this bond is dangerous.”
Her chest tightened. “You regret it?”
“No.” He finally turned to meet her eyes. “I crave it. That’s the problem.”
She swallowed hard.
He looked away again. “I’ve spent years keeping my heart guarded. The moment I let you in… everything shifted. I’ve killed men for less. I’ve survived exile. But you? You make me want to surrender.”
Her pulse fluttered.
“I don’t know how to protect you without becoming something I promised I’d never be again.”
“What’s that?”
“A monster.”
Selene shifted closer. “You’re not a monster, Killian.”
“I was. For a while.”
She wanted to ask more. About what happened before the exile, about what he saw in the eyes of his enemies. But not yet. He wasn’t ready. And neither was she.
Instead, she reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his.
They sat that way, the fire flickering before them, the silence filled with things too fragile to speak.
Later, once Nyra had dozed off with one eye open, Selene wandered outside.
The moon hung high above the trees, full and glowing like silver fire. Her skin prickled beneath it, as if her wolf stirred just beneath the surface.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of pine, damp soil, and distant rivers.
A rustle behind her made her turn.
Killian stepped out of the shadows, his presence as quiet as the night.
“You’re not sleeping either?” she asked softly.
He shrugged. “Couldn’t.”
They stood together beneath the moonlight.
After a while, Killian spoke. “Do you feel it, too? When the moon is full? Like your blood sings?”
Selene nodded. “Like my bones are humming.”
“My mother used to say it was the Goddess’s voice. That when we’re closest to the moon, we’re closest to her.”
“What happened to her?”
He hesitated. “She died protecting me. During the exile.”
Selene’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry.”
“She believed in the prophecy,” he said. “Said I was part of it. I thought she was crazy.”
“And now?”
He met her gaze. “Now I think she was right.”
A breeze danced through the trees, stirring Selene’s hair. She turned back to the moon, but something pulled at her.
A whisper.
A flicker of something… other.
She frowned. “Did you hear that?”
Killian tensed. “What?”
She stepped forward, following the tug in her chest. It was like something ancient was calling her name—not with sound, but with energy.
She reached the edge of the trees, where moonlight touched the ground in a perfect circle.
In the center was a stone slab, cracked and moss-covered, half-buried in the earth.
Selene moved to it slowly, kneeling beside it. Her fingers brushed over its surface—and a pulse of energy shot up her arm.
She gasped.
Runes flickered across the stone. Old ones.
Killian dropped beside her. “What is that?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But it feels… alive.”
The runes shimmered again, and then she heard the voice—soft and distant, like wind through ancient leaves.
“The Luna shall rise by shadow and fire. Her blood will break the oath. Her bond will bring the fall.”
Selene swayed, her vision spinning.
Killian caught her. “Selene!”
The runes faded.
She blinked rapidly. “I’m okay. I think… I think it was part of the prophecy.”
Killian stared at the stone. “We need to find Morrigan. She’ll know what this means.”
Selene nodded, heart racing.
The fire. The bond. The oath.
Something ancient was unraveling. And she was at the center of it.
They returned to the lodge, and Selene forced herself to rest for a few hours. But her sleep was filled with visions—of wolves in chains, of blood on white snow, of a crown made of bone and flame.
When she woke, dawn was breaking.
Nyra was already up, sharpening her blade.
Killian stood near the window, tense.
“They’re coming,” he said without turning.
Selene rose. “Scouts?”
He nodded. “Four of them. South ridge.”
Nyra stood. “We can outrun them if we move now.”
“No.” Selene shook her head. “We don’t run. We mislead.”
Killian raised an eyebrow. “You have a plan?”
She nodded. “We split. Nyra takes the false trail east, makes it loud. You and I head northwest, toward Morrigan’s forest.”
Killian frowned. “Splitting is risky.”
“So is staying,” Selene countered. “We need to understand what I saw last night. And Morrigan is the only one who can tell us.”
Killian didn’t argue.
Nyra clapped a hand on Selene’s shoulder. “I’ll draw them off. Meet you in three nights, at the hollow stone.”
Selene hugged her quickly. “Be safe.”
Nyra smirked. “Always.”
Then she was gone, vanishing into the trees.
Selene and Killian moved quietly in the opposite direction, following the old paths marked by twisted roots and wolf glyphs. As they ran, Selene felt the weight of the prophecy settle on her shoulders like a cloak made of stars and shadows.
But this time, she didn’t run from it.
She ran toward it.
- Writer
