The forge had always been Seren's refuge, but tonight, it felt like a cage. She sat at her workbench, staring at the crude bandage wrapped around her arm. The wound throbbed with a strange heat, as though something alive writhed beneath the surface.
She'd told Ferris the children were safe. She'd even managed to endure his lecture about her reckless behavior. But now, alone in the quiet forge, her thoughts churned. The boy's terrified face. The wolf's glowing eyes. And that voice in the forest...
You can't run from what you are.
Seren shivered, though the forge was warm. She tightened the bandage around her arm, but it offered little relief. The scratch wasn't just a scratch—it felt wrong, as if it were changing her from the inside out.
The bell over the forge's door jangled, breaking the silence. Seren jumped, her hand instinctively reaching for the blade resting on the bench.
"Relax," came a deep voice.
She turned to see a tall figure standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the moonlight. Alaric Vance.
Even in Eclipsia, where danger wore many faces, Alaric was a name that sent shivers down spines. The Moon Council's enforcer, known for his sharp eyes and sharper tongue.
"What do you want?" Seren asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
Alaric stepped inside, his boots clicking against the stone floor. "I heard about your little escapade in the forest. Brave, if not entirely foolish."
Seren bristled. "I didn't see anyone else rushing to save those kids."
His lips quirked into something that might have been a smile, though it didn't reach his piercing eyes. "And now you're marked for it."
Her pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"
He nodded toward her arm. "The wound. It's not ordinary. You've been touched by something... ancient."
Seren tightened her grip on the blade. "What are you talking about?"
"Have you noticed the changes yet?" Alaric asked, stepping closer. "Your senses sharpening. The pull of the moon. The whispers in the dark."
She froze. She had noticed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied.
Alaric leaned against the workbench, his gaze sharp. "You're good with a hammer, but you're a terrible liar. Whatever bit you wasn't just a rogue wolf. It left a mark that won't fade. And when the Council finds out—"
"I didn't ask for this," Seren snapped, cutting him off.
"No one ever does," he replied, his voice softer now. "But it doesn't matter. You've stepped into a world you can't escape from."
A tense silence stretched between them, the forge's embers the only sound.
"Why are you telling me this?" Seren finally asked.
"Because the Council will come for you," Alaric said. "And when they do, you'll need to decide whose side you're on."
Before she could respond, a faint howl echoed through the night. Seren's blood ran cold.
Alaric straightened, his expression darkening. "They're already watching."
He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "You should keep your blades close. You're going to need them."
And then he was gone, leaving Seren alone with the crackling forge and the weight of his words.
She stood there for a long moment, her thoughts racing. The wound on her arm pulsed, and for the first time, she felt something other than fear.
Power.
But as the howl echoed again, c
loser this time, she wondered if power alone would be enough.