MOONMARKED

Mooncrest

The bracelet was cold again by morning, as if last night had never happened.

Serena turned her wrist under the window light, searching for even a trace of that silver glow. Nothing. Just plain metal and a symbol no one could name.

"You're staring at that thing as it bites you."

Serena startled. The girl from dinner—wild curls, easy smile—was leaning against the doorframe in a half-buttoned uniform, watching her with open curiosity instead of the guarded suspicion Serena had gotten used to.

"Sorry. I didn't hear you come in."

"That's because I'm sneaky." The girl grinned and stuck out her hand. "Mira Voss. Apparently, we're roommates, which either means the housing office made a mistake or someone up there has a sense of humor."

"Serena Ashwood."

"I know who you are," Mira said it so plainly that Serena flinched. "Everyone knows who you are. You're the reason half the upperclassmen didn't sleep last night."

"Great. My legacy."

"I didn't mean it like that." Mira sat cross-legged on her own bed, studying Serena with an intensity that felt almost scientific. "I mean it's *interesting*. A student with no aura at all? That's not supposed to be possible. You're not a mistake, Serena. You're an anomaly. There's a difference."

It was the first kind thing anyone at Mooncrest had said to her, and Serena didn't know what to do with it except mumble a thank-you and change the subject.

---

History class did nothing to help.

Professor Aldren was a stiff, precise man who paced in front of the lecture hall like every sentence was a decree.

"The Moon does not err," he said, tapping his lectern for emphasis. "Every wolf that has ever been granted is granted with purpose. There is no such thing as an accident of birth in this academy's four-hundred-year history."

Serena felt every eye in the room slide toward her.

She kept her gaze fixed on her notes, jaw tight, pen gripped hard enough to leave marks on her palm.

*Except me,* she thought. *Apparently I'm the first exception in four hundred years.*

Mira, sitting beside her, reached over and nudged her boot under the table—a small, silent *I see you* that Serena held onto like a lifeline for the rest of the lecture.

---

Combat training was worse.

The arena was a wide dirt ring surrounded by stone risers, and the instructor—a scarred, no-nonsense woman named Coach Brenna—paired students by rank for sparring. When she reached Serena's name, she hesitated.

"You don't shift," Brenna said. Not a question.

"No."

A murmur rippled through the students already gathering to watch. Someone laughed under their breath.

"Then you fight human-style. Agility, footwork, misdirection." Brenna's eyes narrowed, assessing. "It won't be easy against a wolf."

"I didn't come here for easy."

Something like respect flickered across Brenna's face before she called Serena's opponent—a broad, confident boy named Torren who cracked his knuckles like he already knew the outcome.

He came at her fast, already half-shifted, claws extending. Serena ducked low, spun outside his reach, and used his own momentum to send him stumbling past her. The crowd's laughter faltered.

He recovered fast and lunged again. This time she wasn't quick enough—his shoulder clipped hers and sent her sprawling into the dirt. Laughter erupted, sharp and cruel.

"Get up," Brenna said, not unkindly. "You're not done."

Serena got up. She didn't win the match. But she didn't stay down either, and when it ended, Torren was breathing hard and no longer smiling.

"She's fast," Serena heard someone mutter as she walked off the field, wiping dirt from her palms. "Faster than she should be, for someone with nothing to work with."

*Nothing to work with.* The words stung more than the bruise forming on her shoulder.

---

She overheard the professors by accident.

Serena had ducked into a side corridor near the faculty offices to catch her breath after training, back pressed to the cool stone wall, when two voices drifted from behind a half-closed door.

"—should never have been admitted. You know what she is. What she *isn't*."

That was Aldren's voice, clipped and tense.

"The old law left us no choice." The second voice was older, rougher—Serena didn't recognize it. "Her name was already written before she was born. You think Lyra didn't check the records three times before she signed off?"

"Written where?" Aldren's voice sharpened. "By whom?"

A pause. Serena held her breath, straining to hear.

"That's not a conversation for these walls," the older voice said. "Not until we're certain the ceremony goes the way it's supposed to."

Footsteps shifted toward the door. Serena bolted, ducking around the corner just as it opened, her heart slamming against her ribs.

*Written before she was born.* The words looped in her head, refusing to settle into any explanation that made sense.

Someone had known she was coming. Someone had planned for it.

And whatever "the ceremony" was, it was tied to her.

---

She didn't get answers that day, but she got a stare she couldn't shake.

During the last hour of combat drills, she felt eyes on her from across the arena—not curious, not mocking, just watching, steady and unreadable. She turned and found Rowan Blackthorne leaning against the fence line, arms crossed, golden aura still faintly visible from his earlier sparring match.

Everyone knew Rowan. Future Alpha of the Blackthorne Pack, the kind of golden-boy perfection that made professors soften their voices and other students go quiet when he entered a room.

Their eyes met for exactly two seconds.

He didn't smirk. He didn't whisper to the boy beside him the way half the arena had done all day. He just looked at her—like he was trying to solve something—and then looked away, expression carefully blank, as if the moment hadn't happened at all.

Serena told herself it meant nothing. She almost believed it.

---

That evening, an envelope waited on her bed, sealed with the academy's silver moon crest. Mira found it first and gasped so loud Serena nearly dropped her books.

"Serena. *Serena.* Do you know what this is?"

"A letter?"

"It's an *invitation*." Mira's voice had dropped to a reverent whisper, like she was talking about something sacred. "This is the official summons. You're being called to the Mate Recognition Ceremony."

Serena's stomach dropped. "The what?"

"Once a year, under the full moon, the Moon Stone reveals destined pairs. It's the biggest night of the entire school year." Mira looked at her, wide-eyed. "But Serena—wolfless students never get summoned. Ever. There's no record of it happening. Not once."

Serena stared down at the envelope in her hands, the wax seal catching the last of the evening light, and felt the same cold certainty she'd felt the night before, staring at a bracelet that shouldn't have been glowing.

Someone, somewhere, was making sure she couldn't be ignored.

And she had no idea if that was a blessing or a warning.