The frost on the glass hadn’t gone. Morning burned white through the window, but the word still clung there. Unclaimed. Like it belonged to the stone and ice more than me. I touched it again, half hoping the warmth of my hand would smudge it, erase it—no. My skin just came away cold.

The silence in the room wasn’t empty anymore. It waited. That was worse. Silence listening.

I opened my door because sitting with it made me feel small. Corin stood there, leaning against the wall as if he’d been waiting the whole night.

“The Alpha wants you,” he said.

“Now?”

He didn’t blink. “Now.”

I followed him down a passage I hadn’t walked before. The deeper we went, the wetter the air smelled—iron and damp stone. Stormveil wasn’t a fortress, it was a lung, breathing secrets in and out of the cliff. Torches sputtered as we passed.

We stopped at a chamber I wished I hadn’t seen.

An altar sat at its center. Carved bone. Wolf bone, not human. Piled and shaped into a table where grooves still held the memory of blood.

I froze in the doorway.

Kael was already there, hand braced on one ridge of the altar like he was listening for a heartbeat inside it.

“You should eat more,” he said, still looking at the bone.

I blinked. “What?”

“You walk like you’re starving.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

I wanted to argue. My stomach answered first, low and aching. I hated that he heard it.

Kael turned then. Torchlight carved shadow into his scar. His eyes fixed on me the way storms fix on coastlines.

“Do you know this place?”

“No.”

“It’s where Stormveil binds its Lunas.”

The words dropped like stones in my gut. The grooves in the altar weren’t old enough. The stains were still darker.

“I thought we had an agreement,” I said, my voice too careful.

“We do.”

“Then why bring me here?”

“Because the bond doesn’t care about agreements.”

The air thickened. My chest too.

Kael’s hand swept slowly across the altar’s surface, almost gentle. “Do you hear it?”

I strained. Only my own pulse. Only the torches.

“No.”

“You will.”

Then he stepped toward me, closing most of the space. Not touching. But close enough that the air between us charged, humming. His scent was pine and smoke and something older. Something wild.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said.

I tilted my chin. “Should I be?”

“Yes.”

The word wasn’t cruel. It was matter-of-fact. My throat tightened. For one beat, I thought he’d press me back against that altar and claim me like Stormveil expected. My body… stupid body… wanted him to. Heat flooded where fear should’ve been.

But Kael stepped away. A clean cut.

“Go,” he said, clipped. “Before the council calls for you.”

Corin led me out. The storm clung anyway, thick on my skin long after.

The library smelled like mildew and old iron. I told myself I wasn’t searching, but my fingers dragged over spines too fast, restless.

Rowen appeared without warning, leaning against a shelf crooked from weight.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I live here now.”

“Living and belonging aren’t the same.”

I turned a page too hard. Almost tore it. “Do you always follow me?”

“I don’t follow,” he said. His tone flat, unreadable. “I guard.”

“From what?”

“From yourself.”

His stare pinned me. My pulse betrayed me, quick, sharp.

“What did you see in the altar room?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

The word dug in. His presence wrapped tight as wire, but he didn’t move closer. Didn’t need to.

“Do you even trust your Alpha?” I snapped.

Rowen’s mouth twitched, maybe humor, maybe not. “Trust is for children.”

“Then what do you call it?”

“Survival.”

That was the end. He left the way he came, no sound.

By dusk, whispers slithered through the halls. Not voices. Or maybe voices. I couldn’t tell. She doesn’t belong. She’s cursed. She’ll break us all.

I ignored them. Until one sliced clean.

“She’ll kill him the way she killed the last one.”

I spun. Empty corridor.

The truth—that word—stabbed harder. I hadn’t killed anyone. Not really. Except my father’s blood still painted memory. My hands wouldn’t wash it away.

Dinner was worse. The council stiff, silver eyes gleaming like knives. Kael silent at the head. Corin at his right. Rowen down the line, watching me like I was already a verdict.

Venison, roots, bread cracked at the edges. I forced a bite. It turned to ash.

One elder muttered low. “Stormveil doesn’t need a Luna from ashes.”

Kael’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look at me. “Stormveil doesn’t need your opinion.”

The elder sneered. “You bring a curse into this hall, and expect us to bow?”

I set my knife down. My voice came sharper than I meant. “Then don’t bow. But don’t whisper like cowards either.”

Silence locked the room.

Kael didn’t stop me.

The elder’s face twisted, but no more words came.

Rowen’s gaze burned hotter than the torches.

That night, the pendant burned me awake. Dreams already fading, just smoke. But the wolves lingered—three of them, closer each time. One pressed its muzzle into my palm. Its fur scorched like flame.

I woke slick with sweat. Sheets twisted.

And my arm—

Three crescents.

Fresh. Cut into skin. Bleeding.

I hadn’t done it. I swore I hadn’t.

My hand trembled, pressing against the cuts, blood sticky, silver light flickering faint under skin.

Then a whisper slid against my ear.

Unclaimed doesn’t mean unwanted.

I spun, heart pounding. Empty room.

But the crescents glowed brighter, climbing from arm to chest, spreading like fire across me.

The door burst open.

Kael. Rowen. Both froze when they saw.

The glow seared, crawling up my throat. My body shook.

Rowen swore under his breath. “Not possible.”

Kael’s eyes darkened. Voice low, heavy as stone.

“It’s worse,” he said. “It’s beginning.”