MARTIN

The moon was too bright tonight.

It poured through the small window of my room like a living thing, silver light pooling over the worn floorboards and the half-dead herbs hanging from the rafters.

I pressed my palm against the cool glass, trying to calm the strange, tight ache in my chest. It wasn’t just restlessness, it was pull, deep and low and wrong, as if something inside my ribs had started to wake.

“Martin.” Elder Senna’s voice drifted from the doorway, cracked and soft like old parchment. “You should be resting.”

I didn’t turn. “Can’t sleep.”

“The moon always makes you restless.” She came in slowly, her faded shawl brushing the herbs as she passed. She held a steaming clay cup, and the bitter scent hit me before she even reached the table. Chamomile. Rue. Something darker beneath it. “Drink. It’ll settle your nerves.”

I took the cup obediently and stared into the pale surface of the tea.

My reflection stared back, brown hair curling at the edges, dark circles under my eyes. I looked ordinary. Harmless. But I wasn’t. Not really.

I took a small sip anyway. The taste made me grimace. “You keep saying that every full moon, and it never works.”

“It works enough to keep you alive.”

Her words landed heavier than they should have. I set the cup down carefully, fingers trembling. “How long do I have to hide?” I whispered. “How long do I have to pretend?”

Senna sighed, lowering herself into the chair beside me. Her joints cracked with the motion. “As long as it takes.”

“I’m twenty-four.” My voice came out sharper than I meant. “I can’t spend my entire life in the shadows.”

“You’re alive,” she said firmly. “That’s more than most like you can say.”

The words hung between us like smoke.

Male omega. Even in this secluded mountain village, the term was almost taboo. I’d never met another.

Senna said most were killed before they took their first breath, too dangerous, too unnatural. The few who survived were hunted or caged. The lucky ones were hidden away, just like me.

Lucky. I’d never liked that word.

I stared out at the moonlight again, my pulse matching its strange rhythm. “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if you hadn’t found me.”

Her old eyes softened, and her hand, thin and cold, closed over mine. “Don’t ever say that, boy. You have a purpose. The goddess doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Then why hide me?”

“Because the world isn’t ready for you.”

That shut me up.

Outside, the wind rose, howling through the valley. The herbs swayed, casting ghostly shadows across the walls. I remembered the first time Senna told me what I was, how my scent had changed when I hit puberty, how the wolves would tear me apart if they ever found out.

I’d begged her to fix it, to make me normal. But there was no cure for what the moon chose.

“Martin,” she said finally, breaking the silence. “There’s news from the south. The Council has called it a Lunar Bonding Rite.”

I looked up, startled. “The one they hold every ten years?”

She nodded. “Three days from now. They’re gathering omegas from every territory.”

My stomach dropped. “You’re not suggesting…”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “No, gods, no. You can’t go anywhere near that place.” She hesitated, voice softening. “But the Council’s messengers have been combing nearby villages, taking unprotected omegas. Clearwater’s healer sent for aid, they needed medicine and warning. You’ll go at dawn, deliver the supplies, and make sure their young ones stay hidden.”

I frowned. “That’s a half-day walk through the forest.”

“Safe enough if you keep to the path. But you must be careful, Martin. If anyone notices what you are…”

“They won’t.” I tried for confidence, but it sounded hollow. “I’ve hidden it this long.”

“Then hide it a little longer.” She pressed a hand to my cheek, her touch unexpectedly tender. “Wear your cloak. Keep your head down. And for the love of the goddess, avoid any Alphas.”

I nodded. The last bit didn’t need saying. Alphas could sense omegas, especially unmated ones, like wolves scenting blood.

Even dulled with herbs and false scents, I’d never risked being close to one.

That night, sleep came late. When it did, it wasn’t kind.

I was running, barefoot through a forest made of moonlight. Trees like silver bones reached toward the sky, their branches whispering my name.

The ground glowed beneath me, every breath leaving a trail of shimmering light. And ahead, at the edge of a cliff, stood a wolf.

Massive. Black as shadow, but its eyes burned blue, so bright they lit the air around it.

I slowed, heart pounding. The wolf turned, gaze locking on mine. Power rippled through me, raw and ancient. I couldn’t breathe or move.

The word wasn’t spoken, it thundered through my body like a heartbeat. I staggered, dropping to my knees as the wolf began to walk toward me, silent and unstoppable.

When it pressed its muzzle to my face, I smelled pine and snow and smoke and something older than time.

Find me.

I woke up gasping, tangled in sweat-damp sheets, the echo of the word still pounding in my skull.

The moonlight through the window was sharper now, almost alive. My whole body trembled.

The pull was stronger than ever. Not just a dream this time, something real was moving out there. Something that was calling me.

I pressed a hand over my chest, feeling my heartbeat trip and stutter like it was trying to find a new rhythm.

“Find me.”

I shut my eyes. “No,” I whispered. “Not yet.”

But the bond didn’t care what I wanted. It had already begun to wake.

And for the first time in years, I was afraid that hiding wouldn’t be enough.

Because whatever was coming… it was coming for me.