power of the moon goddess

6

Chapter Five: Into the Wolves’ Den

The journey to Damien’s territory wasn’t a quiet one.

Aria rode behind him on a black, sleek motorcycle that looked like it had been born from shadows. The wind rushed past her face, but her mind was louder than the engine. Mate. Moon Goddess. Power. None of it felt real—and yet, the warmth still lingered in her palms from the magic she’d unleashed. That wasn’t a dream.

They crossed the border just before dawn.

The air changed instantly.

It was thicker, charged with something primal. The forest grew wilder, the trees older and twisted like they held memories. Crows circled high above. Wolves howled in the distance.

“Welcome to Duskmoor,” Damien said as he stopped the bike on a cliffside overlooking a massive valley.

And there it was.

Nestled between dark mountains and dense forest sat a hidden stronghold—stone buildings carved into the cliffs, towers rising with ancient grace, fires flickering along walkways that curved like veins. It was a city of wolves, untouched by time.

“This is your home?” Aria whispered.

Damien turned to her, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. “Ours now.”

He led her down the winding path into the heart of the stronghold. Wolves in both forms glanced their way—some with curiosity, others with clear suspicion. Aria kept close, every nerve alert.

They reached a great hall with arched ceilings and dark marble floors. The air buzzed with dominance and history. It was beautiful—and terrifying.

A woman stepped out from the shadows. Tall. Regal. With silver hair braided down her back and eyes that looked carved from moonstone.

“You brought her here,” she said, her voice cool.

“She was attacked,” Damien replied calmly. “By a rogue. She awakened.”

The woman’s gaze shifted to Aria. Piercing. Judging.

“She’s unstable. Untrained. And mortal-born.”

“She’s mine,” Damien snapped. “And she’s stronger than you think.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Then she’d better prove it. The Council will want answers.”

Council? Aria’s head spun. She had no idea what that meant, but the weight in the room doubled.

After the woman left, Damien led her to a private chamber. Large, warm, filled with soft furs and stone carvings that hummed with quiet power.

“This is your space now,” he said, voice gentle. “No one comes in without your permission.”

Aria sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “She didn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t have to. You’re not here to be liked. You’re here to survive.”

She looked up at him. “And you?”

His expression softened. “I’m here to make sure you do.”

They were quiet for a moment.

And then Aria asked the question that had been burning in her chest since the forest.

“What am I, Damien?”

He walked toward her slowly, then knelt in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.

“You’re not just human,” he said. “You’re something ancient wrapped in soft skin. A girl born of hardship with the blood of gods.”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re the future, Aria. And they’re going to fear you for it.”