Chapter 3

Selene ran until the torches and voices of Silverfen were only a dull glow behind her. She didn’t remember leaving the Hall. One moment Rowan was roaring against silver chains, the next she was in the rain-soaked forest, branches slapping her face, boots sinking into mud. Her lungs burned. She kept running.She had pictured the Moon Summit so differently: Rowan’s hand outstretched, the pack howling in welcome, the runes lighting up in blessing. That dream cracked with every step she took now, splintering like ice under her boots.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

Her wolf churned under her skin like a storm. She had never felt it this restless, claws scraping at her bones, eyes wanting to rise through hers. We should fight. We should go back.

“No,” she rasped aloud, tasting blood. “Not yet.”

The forest closed around her — black pines leaning close, moss slick underfoot, air thick with mist. Water dripped from every branch. Owls called once and fell silent. Her hair clung to her face in wet strands. The farther she went the colder it grew, until her fingers went numb and every breath came out as steam.

She stumbled to a halt under a leaning spruce and bent double, palms on her knees. Her chest heaved. She could still hear the echo of chains clinking and Rowan’s voice in her head. Bound. He didn’t choose this. The words from the note burned like a brand.

She pressed a fist to her mouth to stop a sob. “I was a fool,” she whispered. “All this time…”

Rain stung her cheeks like needles. Every tree seemed to lean closer, whispering things she couldn’t quite catch. Her wolf shifted under her skin, a restless shadow she could barely hold back. She wrapped her arms around herself but the cold slid straight through.

Her wolf growled low — not at her but at something beyond. The sound vibrated in her throat before she even realised she was making it. She straightened, senses flaring. The night smelled of wet pine, iron, and something else… something watching.

At the edge of her vision, a glint. Two points of amber light between the trees. Not fireflies. Not reflection. Eyes.

Selene’s breath snagged. She stepped back, one hand curling over her belly without thinking. The eyes did not blink. She’d heard stories of spirits that wore eyes like that, patient as winter, hungry as famine. She’d never believed them until now.

She took another step. They moved with her, slow, patient.

Run. Her wolf’s voice came sharp.

She turned and ran.

Roots clawed at her boots; branches whipped her cheeks. She leapt a fallen log and nearly fell. The forest floor dipped and rose, every shadow a threat. Rain plastered her clothes to her skin. She had no idea how long she ran — minutes or hours. All she knew was the sound of her heartbeat and the eyes she felt behind her.Her foot caught on a hidden root and she pitched forward, palms scraping mud. For a heartbeat she thought the eyes were at her back, close enough to touch. She lurched upright, gasping, and forced herself on.

When at last she broke into a small clearing she almost fell to her knees. A circle of stones jutted from the moss, black with rain. In the middle a trickle of water glowed pale in the moonlight. She crouched there, shaking.

“I can’t go back,” she whispered. “Not yet. Not ever…”

The forest pressed in on her like a living thing, every branch dripping, every shadow leaning closer. She could taste the copper of fear on her tongue, feel her wolf pacing beneath her skin, coiled and ready to spring.

The wolf in her prowled. Watch. Listen.

She closed her eyes, palms pressed to the wet earth. She tried to breathe with the forest steady enough to stand.

Her wolf pressed up inside her ribs, urging stillness instead of flight, as if the land itself could lend her strength if she only listened.” For a moment she felt it — the slow pulse of roots, the steady hum of the river beyond. It steadied her enough to stand.

A sound broke the calm: a low growl carried on the wind. Not wolf. Not man. Something between.

Selene’s head snapped up. At the edge of the clearing, the amber eyes flickered again — closer now, maybe only twenty paces away.

She backed away until her shoulders hit the cold stone of a pillar. Her claws slid from her fingertips without thought. “Stay back,” she warned, but her voice barely carried.

The eyes vanished. Only mist remained.

Silence.

She stood very still, counting each breath until the trembling in her legs eased. Her wolf prowled inside her ribs, ears flat, waiting. She could stay here and freeze or she could keep moving. There was no third choice.

Selene’s wolf trembled, caught between fight and flight. Her heart hammered so hard she thought it might burst. She pushed herself upright, every nerve stretched tight. She needed shelter, somewhere dry, somewhere to plan.

The mist shifted again, this time revealing a faint orange glow far off — firelight. She didn’t know if it was safe. She didn’t know if it was a trap. But the cold had sunk so deep she could barely feel her hands, and the eyes would not leave her alone out here.

“Just a little farther,” she muttered to herself. “Just keep moving.”

A gust of wind hissed through the stones. For an instant she thought she heard a whisper, low and urgent — her name, carried on the mist. She spun, but the clearing was empty. Only the glow of firelight waited ahead.

She pulled her hood over her hair and slipped back into the trees, heading toward the glow, every step silent, every sense straining .Somewhere behind her a twig snapped, soft but deliberate. She didn’t turn. The glow of fire beckoned ahead, but she could feel the weight of a stare at her back — patient, unblinking, following her into the mist.

. Behind her, hidden by mist, the amber eyes glimmered once more, following.