chapter 2
1135 Words
Chapter Two: Beneath the Surface
Morning sunlight cast long shadows across Duskfall's stone manor house, golden light seeping between ancient oak shutters and across Seraphina's bed sheets. But she had not slept. Not really.
She'd watched the moon recede from her window, its red color fading, but its pull remained with her like a rope knotted around her spine. Now, the mark on her back was warm. Not burning—but waiting, as though it waited for something.
Or someone.
A tap at the door. Gentle, cautious.
She tensed.
"Enter," she said softly, pulling her shawl around her shoulders.
The door opened to admit Almond Virell.
His presence was. different from the others. Where Alfred was cold and demanding, and Richard burned like untamed fire, Almond brought a still, unshakeable peace. Like trees that stood through a thousand tempests.
He didn't say anything right away. Just came in, closed the door quietly behind him, and looked over the room with eyes that saw more than most.
Seraphina stood alongside her, fists balled into the edge of the desk.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, but without force.
"I asked," he replied simply, as if that were explanation enough. "Miriam said you hadn't eaten."
"And you volunteered to feed the marked girl?"
His mouth twitched slightly—not a smirk, not quite a smile. "I don't think of you that way."
She tilted her head. "How do you think of me, then?"
He didn't answer.
He set down a tray instead. Sliced berries, warm sweetbread, tea scented with blue petals. She hadn't even realized how hungry she was until the scent hit her. Her stomach quivered.
She sat, tentatively.
"Are you always this collected?" she asked, ripping off a corner of the bread.
He folded his arms, leaning in the window frame. "No. But with you, I have to be."
She blinked. "Why?
Almond evaded her eyes. "Because you're already managing three storms. You don't require a fourth."
---
The silence that descended wasn't awkward. It stretched between them like a fine mist—still, heavy, strangely comforting.
Presently, Seraphina broke the silence.
"You sensed it too, didn't you? Last night."
He nodded. "The pull. The burn." He laid a hand against his chest briefly. "It was like being summoned."
She looked down at her tea, the steam curling up like phantom fingers.
I don't know what I am," she whispered. "I'm scared of what I'm becoming."
"You don't need to have it all worked out in one go," Almond said to her. "You just need to stay grounded."
She looked up sharply. "Easy to say. But everyone wants something from me. Even the people who are trying not to."
"I don't want anything from you, Seraphina," he said softly. "I just want to get to know you."
Her breath caught.
No one had ever said that to her before. Not Miriam. Not the Elders. Not those who trailed her in the night because she was marked.
And it was that directness that shook her more than the flame in Richard's eyes or the steel in Alfred's.
"I don't know how to let anyone close," she confessed.
"Then let me be near, not close," he suggested gently. "For now."
She looked him over for a long while. "All right."
---
They walked the gardens in silence.
The inner courtyard of the manor was abloom with late-summer blossoms—lavender, star anise, pale rose. The air was thick with heat, the kind that hung close to the skin but didn't suffocate.
Almond walked beside her, not behind, not ahead. He said nothing, yet Seraphina was aware of his notice of every step she took. He paid attention. Paid attention to her.
"Did you always know you were Alpha?" she asked.
"No. I ran from it."
She regarded him, curious.
"I had an older brother. He was proud, fierce. Everyone thought he'd be our pack's leader." Almond smiled sorrowfully. "But when the Moon chose me instead, he challenged me. I didn't want to fight. I lost him."
"I'm sorry."
I've carried that weight for years. But now… I think the Moon never meant for me to dominate through force."
Seraphina nodded slowly. "Maybe we're both meant to rule in our own ways."
He glanced sidelong at her, golden eyes glinting.
"Maybe we're not meant to rule alone."
Before she could answer, the air was rent by a sharp bark.
They both turned.
Richard Drayke was across the courtyard, arms folded, shirt off again, sweat forming on his brow as if he'd just run a mile for no other reason than instinct. His eyes flicked from Seraphina to Almond.
Then narrowed.
"I didn't know this was your territory," he said, voice low.
Almond's eyes didn't waver. "It's not. Seraphina invited me."
"I wasn't aware we were playing house now," Richard growled.
"Then perhaps you should pay attention," Almond said, unflappable.
Seraphina's fists clenched.
"Enough." Her voice sliced between them like a whip. "If you're here to fight, go."
Richard's amber eyes softened for half a second when they met hers.
"I came to check on you," he said. "Not him."
"You're not my guard dog," she spat.
"You're not just a girl anymore," he said, voice lowering. "You're Luna. You have no idea how many packs are looking at that mark.
Almond stepped closer. "Then maybe it's time you stopped circling her like a trophy."
Richard tensed. "And maybe it's time you stopped acting like the Moon gave her to you."
"Boys," Seraphina said, inserting herself between them, "you're acting like puppies."
The two men stopped.
Her heart racing in her chest. She hadn't meant to say it, not that way. But the fire in her blood was rising.
And they both felt it.
Richard stepped back first, his jaw clenched. "I'll be at the west tower. If you need someone who doesn't whisper wisdom and verse."
Almond's expression didn't alter as Richard turned and strode away, but his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.
"I should go," Almond said, his voice less sharp now.
"You don't have to."
He looked at her, really looked.
"I think I do. You've had enough pull for one day."
She almost smiled. "You're not wrong.".
He bowed his head slightly and turned away, vanishing into the garden path like mist.
---
Seraphina stood there long after he was gone.
The mark between her shoulder blades pulsed gently—not in warning, but in awareness.
They were drawn to her.
They were already bounded.
And she hadn't even chosen to love them yet.
What would it be like when she did?
She glanced up at the moon—just barely visible through the trees—and whispered, "What are you making of me?"
Somewhere above, in the space between stars, the Moon Goddess stirred.
---
- Writer
