Chapter Ten
Selene's POV
By the time we stopped running, dawn had carved pale streaks across the sky, and my paws were soaked in blood.
Not mine.
Not Lucien's.
But I didn't ask whose.
We collapsed in a clearing hidden deep in the ancient woodlands—where the trees grew too thick for sunlight to reach the ground, and moss swallowed the rocks like it had secrets to keep. I shifted first. My body fought me, resisting the transformation until I hit the forest floor hard, gasping and slick with sweat. Lucien shifted a few seconds later, crouched beside me, chest heaving.
"Are you—" he started, then stopped. "You shifted."
I nodded weakly. "For the first time."
His gaze moved over me, not like a man eyeing a girl, but like a predator studying a creature he didn't understand. Or maybe one he suddenly feared.
"Your wolf—she's… not normal."
"You think I don't know that?"
"No, I mean—she's powerful. Too powerful."
He reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from my cheek. "You shifted without training. Without a bond. And that color… I've never seen a wolf-like yours before."
Neither had I. Violet eyes weren't natural. Even for hybrids. And mine had glowed like Starfire.
Lucien glanced behind us, toward the path we came from. "They'll return."
"I know."
"You should've stayed in the pack. Let Ronan protect you."
The name sliced through me.
I sat up, wincing. "Ronan chose me as Lunar to keep me caged, not safe."
"He chose you because he wants peace. Even if it's built on lies."
"You're one to talk," I snapped. "You kidnapped me."
His jaw tightened. "And yet, you're alive."
The words echoed too loudly in the silence. And the worst part? He was right.
We found shelter in a ruined stone temple swallowed by vines. Inside, faded carvings coated the walls—wolves locked in combat, a bleeding moon overhead, and a woman with a clawed crown cradling something that looked like a glowing egg.
Lucien stared at it for a long time.
"That's the Cradle, isn't it?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
So I pressed. "What is it? What do the hunters want with me?"
Lucien's voice dropped, gravel-rough. "The Cradle is a legend. A vessel of ancient blood—pure, undiluted by pack laws or Luna blessings. It was sealed away by the Moon Goddess when the first cursed bloodline nearly destroyed everything."
"And you think I carry it?"
"I don't think." He turned to me. "I know."
I swallowed. "But I'm not cursed."
His eyes darkened. "No. You're worse. You're unclaimed by fate. Which means you can be rewritten by anything strong enough."
A chill ran through me. I looked down at my hands. They didn't feel like mine anymore.
"You think that's why the hunters want me?"
"They believe if they awaken the Cradle through you, they can burn every pack bloodline to ash."
I sat down, my heart pounding. "But I don't want any of this. I didn't ask to be born like this."
Lucien's expression shifted—less warrior, more… something I couldn't name.
"No one chooses the blood they carry," he said softly. "Only what they spill."
We stayed in the ruin that night.
Lucien kept watch, silent as stone. I tried to sleep, curled up on cracked tiles, moonlight filtering through a broken skylight. But the carvings above me whispered in my dreams—voices of old wolves, chained and weeping, begging me to run while I still could.
And somewhere in that dream, I saw him.
Ronan.
His eyes glowing gold, lips parted in anguish.
He stood at the edge of a battlefield soaked in blood, looking for someone in the smoke.
Looking for me.
But I wasn't there.
I was buried beneath it all—beneath centuries of curses and prophecy.
And I wasn't sure if I wanted to be found.
By the time we stopped running, dawn had carved pale streaks across the sky, and my paws were soaked in blood.
Not mine.
Not Lucien's.
But I didn't ask whose.
We collapsed in a clearing hidden deep in the ancient woodlands—where the trees grew too thick for sunlight to reach the ground, and moss swallowed the rocks like it had secrets to keep. The earth here felt old like it remembered every claw mark and drop of blood ever spilled. A place where the Moon Goddess turned her face away.
I shifted first.
My body fought me, bones grinding against each other like the shift didn't know what I was. Not truly. When I hit the forest floor, the air left my lungs in a violent gasp. My human skin returned, slick with sweat, muscles trembling. Lucien shifted moments later, his body less reluctant, but his eyes said otherwise.
He crouched beside me, naked, silent, watching me with something between awe and fear.
"You shifted," he murmured. "You weren't supposed to."
I swallowed hard. "Guess I missed that memo."
He didn't smile. Instead, his gaze roamed over me—not with hunger or arrogance like some Alphas I'd known, but like he was cataloging a weapon he'd never seen before. One that shouldn't exist.
"You did it without training. No Alpha to guide you. No Lunar bond. You should've lost control."
"I almost did," I whispered. "I think I still might."
He brushed a damp strand of hair from my cheek. "Your eyes… they glowed. Not silver. Not gold. Violet."
My breath hitched. "I saw it. In the river reflection."
"That color hasn't been seen in over two centuries."
"Because it's cursed?"
He didn't respond right away. Just stood and turned his back to me, muscles rippling with tension. "Because it means the blood in your veins doesn't belong to this world."
We found shelter in the crumbled skeleton of an old temple deeper in the woods. The air inside smelled of ancient things—moss, stone, ash. Faded carvings covered the walls. Wolves locked in eternal combat. A bleeding moon looming above them. And a woman with wild hair and claws instead of hands, cradling a glowing orb in her chest.
Lucien's expression shifted when he saw it. Not just recognition—fear.
"That's the Cradle, isn't it?" I asked.
He nodded stiffly.
"What is it? The hunters keep calling me 'vessel.' What do they mean?"
He turned to me, jaw tight. "The Cradle was the Moon Goddess's curse. Or maybe her answer. No one's sure. The first bloodlines were flawed, violent, and too close to beasts. So she made a vessel—part divine, part mortal—meant to restore balance if the packs ever became corrupted again."
"And you think… it's me?"
His voice was quiet. "It's in you."
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
"I'm not some relic. I'm not a prophecy."
"No," he said. "You're worse. You're a blank page. And the world is fighting over the ink."
Later that night, we lit a fire in the center of the temple—low enough not to draw attention, high enough to chase the shadows back into their corners. I wrapped myself in Lucien's spare cloak and sat across from him, the firelight making his features sharper, crueler, and beautiful in a way that felt like a warning.
"Why did you take me?" I asked. "Don't give me some answer about protection."
He didn't blink. "Because Ronan doesn't deserve you."
"Does anyone?"
"Not me," he said after a beat. "But I'm not afraid of what you are. He is."
I studied him in the flickering light. The hunter wasn't just a hunter. The man who didn't flinch when I lost control. Who didn't ask me to tame it?
He reached into a pouch on his belt and tossed something into my lap.
A charm—black glass shaped like a fang.
"Wear it," he said. "It's spelled. Hunters can't track your scent with it on."
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because if they get you first," he said, voice low, "the Cradle will awaken through pain. And that… will burn every pack into extinction."
I clutched the charm tightly.
"And if you awaken it?"
He looked straight at me, and for the first time, I saw something fragile flicker beneath all that fury. Hope, maybe. Or guilt.
"I don't know," he said. "But I think the Goddess gave you a choice."
That night, sleep came slowly.
I curled up on cold tiles beneath a broken skylight, the stars barely visible beyond branches. The carvings above me whispered in my dreams—wolves weeping, Luna torn from the sky, children with burning eyes and claws like daggers.
And then I saw him.
Ronan.
His golden eyes were dull with pain. His armor was bloodied. He stood alone in a smoking battlefield, bodies scattered around him like broken promises. And he was calling my name.
But I wasn't there.
I was buried beneath the ruins.
Beneath the lies.
Beneath the prophecy that had always been coming for me.