Moonborn: A Fated Mates Romance

Lena The remainder of her shift was a jumble of burned coffee beans, unpleasant customers, and a nagging aching in her chest that no amount of caffeine could relieve. She botched orders, neglected to replenish the milk fridge, and spilt a full tray of caramel macchiatos on a lady who seemed to live for Yelp ratings. Craig, her sweaty, red-faced boss, threatened to write her up. She didn't care. When she left her office and stepped onto the pavement, the sun had already begun to set behind the row of ancient brownstones. Orange light spewed into the crumbling pavement, temporarily rendering the city's filth golden. Even this couldn't alleviate the weight that dragged her down. Lena walked the few steps home, her fingers clenched tightly around the packet in her pocket. Her abode was a small studio above a laundry, with the scent of detergent permeating the walls and the floors creaking when her neighbour sneezed. The stairs creaked under her boots as she ascended, each step sounding like a countdown. Inside, the apartment resembled a time capsule containing everything she had been too fatigued to mend. Clothing is arranged in stacks. An unclean skillet on the stove. A fading succulent on the windowsill that had previously been a birthday present. Her laptop flickered, indicating overdue notifications on the desk. She sat on the bed, kicked her shoes off, and took out the letter again. Silver Hollow. She opened her laptop and entered it into the search box. No results. Not even a local blog or Wikipedia stub. Just some coordinates. She put them into the map app, which transported her to the edge of a thick forest at the Oregon-Washington border. The satellite picture revealed nothing more than a thick canopy with a single, winding road cutting through it. "What the hell?" she muttered. A sharp cold ran up the back of her neck. Her adoptive parents never mentioned a location like this. No family secrets. There are no long-lost relatives. There are no true family heirlooms. There were just rumours of how they discovered her as a newborn in a hospital, with no paperwork or a name. And now she had a surname connected to an estate? She looked at the date on the summons. 14 days. Lena leaned back and looked at the ceiling. For the first time in her life, the prospect of vanishing did not seem like failure. It sounded like freedom. She could pack a bag. Take the journey. Find out what was waiting. Perhaps it would be a mess. Perhaps this was a fraud. Maybe when she gets there, some strange old person in a velvet coat will ask her to sign over her soul. Perhaps that would alter everything. Her phone vibrated again. Another text from Jamie, her freshman year roommate, who had seen the obituary online. "I'm so sorry, Lena. Please call if you have any questions. Lena glanced at the letter, her throat clenching. She did not want sympathy. She needed answers. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard. She composed a resignation email to Craig and sent it before she could reconsider. Then she took a duffel bag from under the bed and began packing. Several changes of clothing. Toiletries. Her mother's ancient silver locket. She didn't know how to use her pocket knife. She wore a leather notebook. And the letter. After she finished, she sat on the floor, staring at the bag as if it were a lifeline or a loaded pistol. Something was waiting for her at Silver Hollow. She could feel it. In her bones. In her bloodstream. Whatever it was, it had just awakened.