Blood Moon Bound

Flight Through the Frost

Elara pressed her back against the cold stone wall, the f*******n book clutched tightly to her chest. Her breaths came shallow, misting in the torchlight. She could still hear her father’s words echoing in her mind:

“We find him… and pray the wolves kill him first.”

Her stomach twisted. They were talking about the Moonborn—the creature marked by the Blood Moon. The prophecy. The heir. And now, they wanted to hunt him down before he even had a chance to live.

Elara swallowed hard and made her decision.

She could not stay.

Not tonight.

Not while the forests stirred with danger, and the valley’s balance shifted beneath the crimson glow above.

With trembling hands, she slid the book into her cloak and stepped into the shadowed corridor. The torchlight flickered as she moved silently, listening for any sound of pursuit. Every footstep echoed like a warning.

The castle slept—or pretended to. Only the distant guards’ voices reached her ears, muffled by stone and distance. Her pulse thundered as she crept down the spiral stairwell that led to the outer gates.

Each step felt heavier than the last. She had never disobeyed her father before—not like this. Not like tonight. But the thought of leaving the Moonborn to his fate… alone, hunted, untrained… it was unbearable.

The wind whistled through the Keep’s battlements as she slipped out into the night. Snow crunched softly under her boots. The Blood Moon hung full above the forest, its red light spilling across the valley like a river of fire.

Elara shivered. The forest was alive with whispers. Wolves, she knew, would be moving tonight. And she was leaving the safety of stone for the wild. Alone.

A distant howl echoed, sharp and low. Her heart clenched.

She pressed on. Every instinct screamed to turn back, to hide, to run back to Blackridge Keep and pretend she had never seen the book. But the prophecy burned in her mind. She had to find him. She had to know the truth.

Branches scraped her cloak, snow stung her face, but she moved swiftly, guided by the faintest memory of the valley’s contours. The book pressed against her chest, and she traced her fingers over the crescent claw-mark etched into its cover.

The marked one is neither wolf nor man… but the bridge between worlds.

The words burned in her mind, repeating like a drumbeat.

Hours seemed to pass as she threaded through the trees. Every shadow became a threat. Every rustle of leaves made her jump. And yet, she could not stop. Not while the wolves prowled, not while the valley waited.

Her thoughts turned to the last page she had read in the archives:

And the Hollow Wolf shall rise…

Her stomach clenched. The stories of the Hollow Wolf had terrified her as a child, but this was different. This was real. The forests carried the scent of death tonight, and it was only a matter of time before the cursed predator—the first of its kind—would awaken fully if the prophecy was ignored.

And the Moonborn…

He could be the only hope.

A snapping branch made her spin. Moonlight glinted off fur as a wolf emerged from the trees. She froze, heart hammering. Its eyes reflected the crimson light above, and it tilted its head, studying her.

Not attacking.

Not yet.

Elara realized, almost in shock, that this wolf was different. Leaner, faster… with the sense of something beyond the ordinary. She stepped back cautiously.

Then she saw him.

Not the wolf in front of her, but another shape through the trees. A figure moving with uncanny speed. Kairo. The outcast. The Moonborn heir.

He didn’t notice her yet—his focus was on evading the pack. The snow under his paws glinted silver as his chest pulsed faintly with the Moon Mark. Elara felt a strange shiver run down her spine. That mark… it was alive, like it could sense her presence.

Instinct screamed at her to call out, but her lips stayed pressed together. She had to be cautious. If Kairo thought she was a threat, he might flee—or worse, attack.

Darian’s voice cut through her mind like a memory she hadn’t lived yet.

Do not run. Not yet.

Her fingers tightened on the book. Darian… she didn’t know him yet, but the words of the legend were clear. Someone powerful was guarding the heir tonight. And if she wanted to survive, she would need allies.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The wolf—Kairo—paused, sensing her presence. His ears twitched, nostrils flaring. He had never seen a human this far in the wild. Most stayed behind the borders, terrified of wolves, of the Blood Moon, of the forest itself.

But she did not flee.

That alone gave him pause.

Elara swallowed. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she called softly. Her voice trembled, but the forest carried it surprisingly well. “I… I want to help.”

Kairo’s golden eyes narrowed. He did not know whether to trust her. The mark on his chest pulsed again, silver light spilling through his fur. He could feel the energy in her presence, even if he did not understand it.

The wolves behind him were still howling, still pursuing, still dangerous. Ravik would not stop. And yet, something in her… drew him. Something whispered that she was different.

Darian stepped from the shadows then, silent and poised, like a black flame in the snow. His gaze flicked between Kairo and the human girl. “She’s coming with us,” he said, low and sharp.

Kairo’s chest burned. “Why? She… she doesn’t belong—”

“She belongs where the prophecy leads,” Darian interrupted. “If we survive tonight, you’ll understand.”

The pack’s howls rose again, nearer this time. Snow sprayed as wolves crashed through the underbrush, drawn by scent and rage.

Elara’s pulse raced. Her hands shook as she held the book. She could see Kairo, young, fearful, and yet brimming with power. She could see Darian, dark and predatory, guarding him. And she realized, with a mixture of awe and terror: she had no choice but to follow.

The forest seemed to bend around them. Branches shifted to block the hunters’ and wolves’ paths. The snow seemed to sparkle with unnatural light. The Blood Moon overhead cast crimson shadows, turning every tree into a silhouette of menace and magic.

And then the chase began in earnest.

Kairo moved first, leaping over snow-laden logs. Darian fell into step beside him, silent and deadly. Elara ran behind them, lungs burning, snow up to her knees. Wolves crashed through the undergrowth, some snarling, some hesitant.

The Moon Mark pulsed again. Kairo felt it in his chest like a drumbeat—telling him to trust, to survive, to embrace the power.

Elara didn’t know what would happen next, but she knew one thing: there was no turning back. She had left the Keep, left her father’s orders, and stepped into the forest’s heart. Into danger. Into prophecy.

The Blood Moon above glowed brighter, and the valley seemed to hold its breath.

Somewhere in the darkness, wolves, men, and Moonborn creatures were converging.

And Ash Valley was alive with blood, magic, and the promise of war.

Elara ran faster, the book tight against her chest, her eyes on Kairo and Darian.

She is part of this now.

Whether she wanted to be—or not—her life, and the fate of the Moonborn heir, would never be the same again.