The latch lifted with a soft metallic click. Mist rolled into the cabin, pale and curling like smoke over the floorboards. Selene’s claws slid from her fingertips before she realised it. Every muscle in her body locked. The warmth in her belly pulsed once, sharp, insistent—like a warning from within.

The door creaked wider. For a heartbeat she expected Kael’s hulking shape or Rowan’s familiar scent. Instead a cloaked figure stood in the threshold, lean and still, mist clinging to its shoulders. No scent of wolf, no smell of human sweat , just damp earth and something older.Water dripped from the hood in slow silver beads. A strip of old bone hung from a cord at his wrist, carved with claw marks. The smell of iron and pine rolled off him, sharp enough to sting her nose. For one heartbeat Selene wasn’t in the cabin at all. she was somewhere else: a stone hall lit by blue fire, a curved sigil painted on the floor, Kael’s voice echoing. The image vanished as fast as it came, leaving her throat dry. Her wolf scraped at her ribs, claws pushing at her fingertips, demanding to rise.

Selene didn’t move. Her wolf bristled under her skin, ears pinned, low growl rumbling in her throat. She edged sideways until her back brushed the wall. The figure didn’t step forward. It just tilted its head, studying her.

“You’ve warded the place well,” a low voice said from under the hood. Not a question. “But wards fade.”

Selene’s claws bit into her palms. She wanted to demand who he was, but instinct said silence. The figure shifted slightly, and mist spilled around his boots. He traced a finger along the doorframe, pausing at the runes Eira had etched weeks ago.

“You carry something you don’t understand,” he murmured. “It calls to us.”

Her pulse hammered. The glow from the hearth flickered against the hood, showing only the hint of a scarred jaw. His hand moved faster now, fingers scratching a shape into the wood—a curved mark like a crescent with three claw-strokes through it. The scent of iron filled the air.

Her wolf lunged inside her. She nearly shifted fully, muscles stretching, bones aching to crack. She forced it down, breath hissing between her teeth. Not yet. Not here.

The man chuckled softly, as if hearing the struggle. “Good control,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

“Get out,” Selene hissed at last, voice rough. “Now.”

The hood dipped once. “We are already here,” he said. “Everywhere.” And then he stepped back into the mist. His outline blurred, dissolved, gone. Only the mark remained, carved deep into the wood where his finger had traced. It glimmered faintly, silver-red, as if blood mixed with moonlight. Heat shot through Selene’s belly, sharp enough to make her gasp. Her wolf gave a low, confused whine, hackles rising. She reached toward the sigil but stopped inches short; the air around it felt cold and alive. “What did you leave here?” she whispered, but the mist outside gave no answer.

Silence slammed into the cabin. Only the fire crackled. Selene’s claws remained extended. Her breathing came hard, shallow. The mark on the door pulsed faintly, silver-red as if alive. Her wolf pressed against her ribs, snarling.

Not random eyes. A faction. Organised. Hunting.

She crossed the room in three strides and slammed the latch shut, tracing her fingers over the new symbol. Cold seeped from it, biting her skin. The warmth in her belly pulsed again, harder, almost painful. She pressed a hand there, whispering to the life inside. “I’ve got you,” she said softly. “I won’t let them.”

Her knees gave and she sank onto the floor by the hearth. The firelight trembled across her face. She closed her eyes, inhaling the smell of smoke and herbs. Eira’s absence loomed like a hole. How long until she returned? How long until the wards failed?

Her mind replayed the intruder’s words: You carry something you don’t understand.

What exactly had he sensed? The child? Her power? Both?

The cabin suddenly felt small. She rose and began reinforcing the wards the way Eira had taught her: sprinkling salt in the corners, pressing moonwort leaves into the doorframe, humming the low tune that steadied her wolf. Her hands shook but she forced herself to keep moving, circling the room like a caged animal. The mark still glimmered faintly under her palm.

Outside, the mist thickened until the window turned white. She caught herself staring at it, waiting for amber eyes to flare again. Nothing came. Not yet.

When at last she sat back down, sweat beaded on her brow despite the cold. The glow in her belly eased but didn’t vanish. She rubbed small circles over it. “You’re safe,” she whispered. “I’m safe. For now.”

The cabin creaked. Beyond the glass, a branch snapped, sharp, deliberate, far too close.

Selene shot upright, claws sliding out again. Her wolf surged to the edge of her skin. Another snap followed, then silence. Her heart pounded. She stared at the door, at the carved sigil still pulsing faintly.

They hadn’t gone far.

She backed toward the table, eyes on the latch. The fire popped, throwing sparks. The air in the room seemed to hold its breath.

A whisper drifted from the mist outside, almost a voice, almost a growl: “Moonborn…”

Selene’s blood turned to ice. She forced herself to breathe evenly, shoulders square. “You won’t have me,” she whispered back.

The latch trembled under an unseen hand.

Her wolf rose, fur bristling inside her veins. She didn’t know if she could fight. She only knew she could not hide anymore.

The lantern flickered. Shadows stretched across the floor like claws. Outside, a low guttural howl rolled through the trees, not wolf, not human. The sound rattled the windowpanes.

Then silence.The mist at the window turned milk-white, blotting out the trees. A darker silhouette flickered behind it taller, broader than the first figure. Selene’s wolf growled a name she didn’t know, a sound like warning in the back of her throat. The life inside her kicked once, hard enough to steal her breath. Lantern light shook, stretching their shadows across the floor like claws. She planted her feet, squared her shoulders. “Not again,” she whispered. “I won’t run.”

Selene’s claws dug into the wood of the table. She glanced at the door just as the latch lifted again.

And in the space between heartbeats, the door began to open.