The Ancient Moon

Chapter 4: The Pull of the Moon

POV Beatrice

I couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes.

Not Dorian’s — those were burned into my memory already — but the new guy. Nate. Or whatever his real name was. There was something off about him. Not in a bad way. Not dangerous, exactly. But… out of place. Like he was trying too hard to fit in, and didn’t know how to wear his own skin.

I saw it when he smiled.

I saw it even more when he stopped smiling.

After we had coffee — or, more accurately, walked around for ten minutes while he constantly checked behind us like some wannabe bodyguard — I went back to my dorm feeling like my head was filled with static.

Something had changed. And I didn’t know what. Only that I was at the center of it.

And I was so, so tired of pretending I didn’t feel it.

The mark on my back? It ached now. Not constantly — just when I looked up at the sky and saw the moon rising. And every time, it was stronger. Not like a muscle. Like a magnet. Like it was calling something inside me I didn’t even know I had.

—

That night, I couldn’t sleep again.

Surprise.

But instead of pacing in my room like a trapped cat, I found myself lacing up my sneakers and heading for the edge of campus.

The forest waited.

And I hated how much I needed it.

I stepped onto the trail — no flashlight this time. Just instinct.

The air was colder. The trees leaned in closer. And somewhere deep in the woods, something moved.

“Great idea, Bea,” I muttered. “Get murdered by whatever the hell lives out here. Real smart.”

“Technically, I warned you,” said a voice behind me.

I turned fast, nearly falling over.

Nate — or whatever his name really was — leaned against a tree with that same smirk.

“I should pepper spray you,” I said.

He shrugged. “Fair.”

“You followed me?”

“I was already here.”

“Liar.”

“True.”

I hated how much I liked talking to him.

I folded my arms. “So what now? You gonna stalk me all the way into the murder woods?”

He stepped closer. “If I said yes?”

“I’d probably still go. Which is insane.”

“Little bit.”

We walked in silence.

He stayed close, but not too close. Like he didn’t want to spook me. Or like he knew something might be watching.

I don’t know what I expected to find in the forest that night. Answers? Maybe. A body? Hopefully not. Myself?

Maybe most of all.

We reached a clearing — the same one where I’d seen it — and I stopped.

The moon was full. Heavy. Like it knew I was there.

My skin prickled. My chest tightened. And something deep inside me... shifted.

Nate’s voice was low. “You feel it, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

Because yes. I did.

“Tell me,” I whispered, not sure what I was asking.

He turned to me, face half-lit in silver. “You’re changing.”

I swallowed. “Into what?”

He didn’t speak.

Just stared.

And then — we heard it.

A long, distant howl.

It wasn’t a dog.

It wasn’t even close.

I stepped back. “That was—”

“Yeah.”

“What was it saying?”

His eyes locked on mine. “Run.”

***

The sound echoed through the trees like thunder wrapped in teeth. My legs moved before I even realized it — pure instinct, primal and raw. I ran. Not because I was scared of the howl. I was scared of how I understood it. The tone. The intent. The warning. I’d never heard that sound before in my life, and somehow I knew it wasn’t just noise — it was language. And it was meant for me.

Branches slapped at my arms, roots grabbed at my shoes, but I didn’t stop. My lungs burned, and my pulse throbbed in my ears, but something deeper was pounding — not just fear, but something more ancient. It felt like the earth itself was pushing back at me, like the forest wanted to keep me in. Or drag me further down. Behind me I heard footsteps — too light to be threatening, too close to be a stranger. Zane. Or Nate. Or whatever the hell his name really was.

“Bea!” he called.

I ignored him. I couldn’t stop. The heat was spreading now — up my spine, across my shoulders, into my fingers. Every nerve felt electric. I wasn’t running from something anymore. I was running through something. Like a wall between two worlds had cracked open and I was sprinting right into it.

And then the world tilted.

My foot caught on something — a rock, a root, I couldn’t tell — and I went flying. My shoulder hit the ground hard, breath knocking out of me in a single, brutal gasp. I rolled once, twice, before landing flat on my back, staring up at the trees that swayed and twisted above me like they were alive.

Pain exploded down my side, but it was nothing compared to what was happening inside.

It was like a fire was crawling beneath my skin, licking up my throat, coiling in my stomach. My vision blurred. My fingers clawed at the dirt. I tried to scream but nothing came out. My body was wrong — stretched, burning, vibrating. I heard whispers — voices not my own, low and layered, as if someone was speaking right into the bones of my skull.

She wakes. She bleeds moonlight. She remembers.

“No,” I gasped, barely hearing my own voice. “Make it stop—”

Arms around me. Strong. Grounding.

Zane.

He was suddenly there, kneeling beside me, hands on my shoulders. His eyes were wide — no more jokes, no more smirks. Just fear.

“Bea. Look at me. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” he said, voice low but urgent.

“I’m not,” I choked. “Something’s wrong. I can’t— I can’t breathe—”

“Yes, you can. Just focus on my voice.”

The ground pulsed beneath me. My heart slammed against my ribs. My vision split. But then I saw his face again, close to mine, his hands steady on my skin, and somehow, in all that chaos, it helped. Just enough.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered. “I feel like I’m being torn apart.”

“I do understand,” he said softly. “More than you know.”

And then — it happened.

My body arched, back lifting off the ground like I was being pulled by invisible threads. A golden light surged beneath my skin — faint at first, then brighter, hotter. My veins glowed like fire. The air around us shimmered. I saw it reflected in his eyes: not fear, not confusion — recognition.

“You’re not supposed to be able to do this,” he murmured.

The light pulsed once more — then vanished, like someone had flipped a switch inside me.

I dropped back onto the dirt with a gasp. The forest went still.

Silence.

Zane was still holding me, arms tense, breath shallow.

“What was that?” I asked, voice hoarse.

“I don’t know,” he said. But that was a lie. I saw it in his jaw, the way it tightened. He knew something.

“You need to tell me what’s happening to me,” I said, struggling to sit up. “No more cryptic s**t. No more warnings. Talk to me.”

He hesitated. Then let go, just enough to help me lean against a tree.

“There are things you don’t know. About this place. About what you are.”

“I’m human,” I snapped.

“Not anymore.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

“You were born like them,” he continued, “but something in your blood — it’s different. It was sleeping. Until now.”

“And what woke it up?”

He looked at the moon.

“You did.”

I laughed once — short, sharp. “That makes no sense.”

“It will. Eventually.”

I stared at him. At his eyes. The way he watched me — not like prey, not like a protector. Like I was a mystery he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.

“What are you?” I asked.

He didn’t blink.

“Exactly what you think.”

And that’s when it clicked.

The way he moved. The way he looked at the trees. The way he smelled.

The wolf.

He was the wolf.

And Dorian… was the other one.

I stood slowly, legs shaking, heart thudding, but I managed.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

He looked around. Tensed.

“We’re not alone.”

I followed his gaze — but saw nothing.

Felt something.

A shift in the wind.

A shadow too still.

He stepped in front of me, low and ready.

“Get behind me,” he said.

“No.”

“Bea—”

“No.”

My voice was steady. My spine straight. And even as the fear pulsed beneath my ribs, something else rose above it.

Something that didn’t belong to fear at all.

Strength.

“Whatever’s out there,” I said, “I want to see it.”

And I meant it.

Because I was done hiding from what was inside me.

Let it come.