The fortress breathed in silence.

Stone corridors wound endlessly through darkness, lit only by wall torches that flickered with blue flame. Clara wandered them alone, feet bare, heart pounding with things she couldn’t name.

She didn’t know why she couldn’t sleep. Or why the stone walls felt warmer than they should. Or why her skin still burned where Caelum had looked at her like that.

No one had ever looked at her like that. Like she was his, and it terrified him.

---

Caelum hadn’t come back after the dream.

He’d left her under guard, wordless, with nothing but a basin of water and a tray of food. Hours passed. Then dusk. Then stars above the slanted ceiling.

Now, Clara moved through the hallway in silence. She needed answers. Not just about him but about herself.

---

A staircase wound downward at the eastern end of the keep, its stones slick with age. She followed it, heart thudding, until it opened into a vaulted hall—a wide, circular room with a domed ceiling and ancient murals half-faded into shadow.

At its center stood a torn tapestry, draped from a frame like a veil of forgotten truth.

Clara stepped forward slowly, the torchlight catching threads of gold and crimson.

Her breath caught.

A white wolf lay curled on the fabric, larger than any natural beast, majestic and strong. Beneath it, two tiny pups nursed at her belly. Above them, a red moon glowed, and in the corner...

A sigil.

Twined crescent moons bound by a claw-marked circle.

The same symbol carved into the rune-stone she’d hidden under her bed all her life. Her fingertips hovered over the fabric.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “What am I?”

Behind her, a voice answered. “You are Moonborn.”

She turned, Caelum leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes unreadable.

“You followed me,” she said.

“I wanted to see if you’d find this.” He stepped into the torchlight. “You did.”

“What is it?”

He nodded toward the tapestry. “That’s your legacy.”

“Then explain it.”

Caelum moved closer, but not too close. “The Moonborn are descendants of the first Luna who defied fate. She split her magic between two children—twins. Half her power to each. One to rule. One to protect.”

“Which am I?” Clara asked, almost breathless.

He paused. “I don’t know.”

She frowned. “Liar.”

Caelum’s expression didn’t flinch.

---

They stood in silence for a moment.

Then Clara turned back to the tapestry. “Why was I left in the woods? Why didn’t they come back for me?”

Caelum’s voice lowered. “Because they were hunted. Because you were hunted.”

“By who?”

He stepped beside her now, his shoulder barely brushing hers. “There are those who fear the Moonborn. Your bloodline was thought to be dead. Some would kill to keep it that way.”

She looked up at him. “You knew this. Even back then.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t lie,” he said quietly. “I protected you.”

Clara’s eyes flared. “Don’t twist it. You hid things.”

“I gave you space to survive the shift. If I’d told you everything too soon—”

“You still aren’t telling me everything.”

He didn’t deny it.

---

Clara turned to walk away, but he caught her wrist—gently.

She froze.

The mate bond sparked between them again, that same pull, slow and electric. Her heartbeat doubled. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, they were just two souls hanging by a thread.

“Tell me the truth,” she whispered. “What do you want from me?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t want anything.”

“Bullshit.”

Their breath mingled.

He said nothing.

Then she said, softer: “You feel it, don’t you?”

Caelum didn’t speak.

He just leaned in.

And kissed her.

---

It wasn’t sweet.

It was tense, desperate, angry—like a dam breaking.

Clara’s hands curled in his coat as he pulled her in like he couldn’t bear to stay away. His kiss was heat and fury, all the things they hadn’t said. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back slightly, deepening the kiss until her knees buckled.

She felt the bond explode between them, raw and real. Not just chemistry—recognition. The ache of fate crashing into choice.

Then he pulled away—too fast. Breathing hard. Eyes wild.

“No,” he rasped.

Clara blinked, stunned. “What?”

“I can’t—” He turned away. “I wasn’t supposed to feel this.”

She stepped forward. “Then what were you supposed to feel? Nothing?”

He didn’t answer.

She tried again. “Is this why you’ve been distant? Because of the bond?”

“Because I can’t protect you,” he snapped. “Not from what’s coming.”

She stared at him, a cold weight settling in her chest. “Then stop pretending you’re trying.”

He opened his mouth—but said nothing.

Then he vanished into the shadows.

---

Clara didn’t follow immediately.

She sat, stunned, fingers to her lips.

The bond still thrummed in her veins.

Everything about him screamed danger.

And yet… she wanted him to stay.

---

Later that night, she couldn’t sleep.

When her eyes finally closed, the dream came—but not her own.

Chains.

A cold stone floor.

A girl, barely older than Clara, crouched in the dark, arms wrapped around her knees. She had Clara’s eyes. Clara’s face. But her hair was shorter. Her expression, colder.

She whispered to herself, voice hoarse and shaking: “I’m still here. I’m still here…”

Then she looked up—right at Clara.

“Help me,” she whispered.

Clara jolted upright in the bed, heart pounding, drenched in sweat.

The girl was real.

She could feel it.

---

The halls were empty when Clara left her room. She moved through the shadows, her steps quiet, as if someone might try to stop her.

But no one did.

Which is why she heard the voices—low, urgent—coming from the stone chamber near the inner sanctum.

She crept to the doorway.

Inside stood Caelum. Kneeling. Head bowed.

Before him stood an older woman, tall, silver-haired, clad in black armor trimmed in blood-red.

Selene.

Clara didn’t know her name—but she recognized the power that pulsed from her.

“She’s ready,” Caelum said. His voice was strained. “The shift has stabilized. The bond… it's started.”

Selene studied him in silence.

“You know what this means,” she said coldly. “You can’t hesitate now. She must be prepared.”

“I know,” Caelum whispered. “I didn’t want—”

“Don’t be a fool. If you waver, the curse remains.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I’ll do what must be done.”

Selene's expression sharpened. “Even if it means her death?”

Clara stepped back, breath stolen. Her palm flew to her chest, where the bond still glowed faintly inside her. She ran.