Moonbound blood

The Blood Moon had not risen in seventeen years. Yet tonight, the moon looked wrong. It hung above the black towers of Noctis like a wound in the sky, stained with a faint crimson glow that painted the kingdom's stone streets in blood-colored light. The elders called it a warning. The guards called it bad luck. Evelyn Ashford called it beautiful. She stood on the highest balcony of Ashford Castle, her silver-white hair dancing in the cold wind as she rested both hands on the ancient stone railing. The city stretched beneath her—gothic rooftops, flickering lanterns, and rivers so dark they reflected only the moon. Her crimson eyes lingered on the forest beyond the castle walls. Fenrir Forest. Werewolf territory. "You're thinking about them again." The familiar voice startled her. She turned to find Lady Selene, her mother's former handmaid, standing in the doorway with a velvet cloak draped over one arm. "You'll freeze." "I won't." "You always say that." Selene smiled faintly before wrapping the cloak around Evelyn's shoulders anyway. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was comfortable, like worn pages in an old book. "You look like her tonight," Selene whispered. "My mother?" Selene nodded. "The same eyes." Evelyn touched the crescent-shaped birthmark beneath her collarbone without thinking. "I barely remember her." "You were three." "I remember her singing." "And?" Evelyn frowned. "A forest." Selene's expression changed so quickly Evelyn almost missed it. "A forest?" "I don't know." "It was probably a dream." But Selene's voice had become too careful. Evelyn noticed. She always noticed. Before she could ask another question— Boom. The castle bells exploded across the kingdom. One. Two. Three. Every guard on the balcony snapped upright. A soldier burst through the doorway. "Your Highness." "What happened?" "The wolves." Evelyn's heartbeat slowed instead of speeding up. Training. Her tutors had drilled discipline into her since childhood. Never panic. Never hesitate. Never show fear. "The western border?" The soldier nodded. "They crossed the river." Impossible. Werewolves had not crossed that river in years. King Lucien's voice thundered through the corridor before anyone could speak again. "To the war hall." The war hall smelled like smoke and steel. A giant map covered the center table. Red markers represented vampires. Silver markers represented wolves. Three silver markers had appeared inside vampire territory. King Lucien stood beside the map in black armor trimmed with crimson. The room fell silent when Evelyn entered. "My daughter." She bowed slightly. "Father." He pointed toward the map. "Three werewolves attacked a border patrol." "Casualties?" "Four dead." Her stomach tightened. "Survivors?" "One." The survivor stood near the wall, bleeding through his bandaged shoulder. "They weren't hunting." Everyone looked at him. "What do you mean?" The soldier swallowed. "They were running." The room erupted. "Lies." "A trick." "Wolves don't run." King Lucien raised one hand. Silence returned instantly. "Explain." The survivor's voice shook. "They kept looking behind them." "As if something chased them." A cold feeling settled in Evelyn's chest. Something stronger than wolves? That thought made no sense. Nothing hunted werewolves. An hour later— Evelyn ignored every order she'd been given. Especially the one telling her to remain inside the castle. She slipped through a hidden passage behind the library, emerging outside the western wall with twin daggers strapped beneath her cloak. The night air tasted different. Sharper. Almost— Familiar. She frowned. Why did the forest smell comforting? The thought vanished as she reached the river. Blood. Fresh blood. Silver claw marks scarred nearby trees. Broken arrows littered the ground. Then— A growl. Low. Painful. Not threatening. Evelyn crouched behind a fallen log. Across the river— Someone collapsed. Not someone. A wolf. No. A young man. His body shifted halfway between human and beast. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Amber eyes burning with pain. A werewolf. He struggled to stand before crashing back into the mud. Evelyn's hand found one dagger. This was simple. Kill him. Return home. Earn her father's approval. Instead— She hesitated. His breathing sounded wrong. Labored. Weak. He wasn't attacking. He was dying. The voice inside her screamed. Enemy. Another voice whispered something stranger. Help him. She hated that second voice. She hated it enough to ignore it. Until— The forest exploded. Something enormous crashed through the trees. Even the injured werewolf looked terrified. His amber eyes widened. "Run." The word barely left his lips before darkness swallowed his consciousness. Evelyn froze. Whatever hunted him— Was coming. Fast. And for the first time in her life— The princess who had been taught to fear wolves realized something far more terrifying existed beyond the trees.