The next morning, the sky bled orange over the trees, but Adriana was already awake.
She stood alone in the clearing beyond the Crescent Moon estate—no armor, no audience. Just her, the cool wind, and the weight of her own power pressing against her ribs like a secret longing to be free.
She hadn't slept.
The moment her eyes closed, the horned creature from the Blood Moon attack appeared in her dreams—those glowing violet eyes boring into her, whispering things she couldn't understand but still felt. A warning, or a prophecy.
Lira arrived before sunrise, as promised. She walked like the earth shifted around her steps, her long cloak brushing leaves from the grass. Her cane glowed with a faint blue pulse, but she didn't use it for support—only purpose.
"You came early," Adriana said.
"You didn't sleep," Lira replied, as if reading her soul. "That's good. Fear sharpens the edge."
"I'm not afraid."
Lira arched an eyebrow. "Then you're lying to yourself."
She walked a slow circle around Adriana. "You want to understand the power inside you. But power without discipline is just noise. And you, Adriana, are not noise."
"Then what am I?"
Lira paused in front of her. "You are a convergence. Human, wolf, and mage. Three forces that should never have met—now joined inside you."
Adriana swallowed hard.
"I want you to focus on your pendant," Lira said. "But not just as an object. It's more than jewelry. It's a relic—bound to your family's bloodline. A tether."
Adriana lifted the pendant. It pulsed faintly, responding to her touch.
"Breathe in," Lira commanded. "Now out. Close your eyes."
Adriana obeyed.
"Now feel."
And suddenly… she did.
A warm current under her skin. Not just the sensation of blood pumping—but something alive. Buzzing. Like static before lightning. Her chest tightened, her skin prickled. The pendant burned.
"There," Lira whispered. "That's your core."
Adriana opened her eyes—and the pendant burst with light.
A circle of glowing symbols spread from her feet across the grass like wildfire. The air around her shimmered, crackling like ozone.
Lira's expression remained unreadable. "You just activated your magical field. Most hybrids can't do that without years of training."
Adriana let the power fade, the symbols dying into the earth.
"That was incredible," she whispered. "It felt like… something inside me woke up."
"It did," Lira said. "But it won't be all joy. Magic will tear at you as much as it empowers you. You'll see things others can't. Feel things that don't belong to you. You'll need a strong mind, or you'll go mad."
Adriana straightened. "Then train me."
---
Days passed, and training became ritual.
Mornings were for combat. Adriana sparred with Adrian's warriors—learning not just to defend herself, but to strike with purpose. She learned to anticipate, to use her size as an advantage rather than a weakness. Lira called it "anchoring the body."
Afternoons were magic.
Lira taught her how to pull from her core—how to shape energy into shields, how to set wards that could blind or silence, how to listen to the forest when danger approached. Adriana's magic responded like a language long forgotten, now remembered in whispers and sparks.
Evenings were the hardest.
That was when she sat with Adrian, skin still bruised from training, power still humming under her flesh, and talked about what it meant to be bonded—truly bonded. Not just in fate, but in choice.
Some nights they argued. Some nights they made love like the world might end at dawn.
But always, they returned to each other.
And still, something stirred beneath the surface.
---
One night, as the stars blinked into view, Adriana stood by the training yard cooling down, hands on her knees, breath ragged.
Adrian approached, carrying water. He handed it to her with a slight smile.
"You didn't hold back today," he said.
"I needed to feel stronger," she replied, wiping sweat from her brow. "I need to be ready."
Adrian grew quiet.
"I don't like what Lira said," she continued. "That I could go mad."
"She's seen it happen before," he said softly. "My mother trained under her once."
Adriana looked up. "Your mother?"
Adrian nodded. "Before she died. She was a seer."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Because it's not something I'm proud of," he admitted. "She couldn't handle the visions. She stopped eating. Stopped sleeping. One night she walked into the woods and never came back."
Adriana felt a chill. "You think that'll happen to me?"
"I think you're stronger," he said. "But I also think you'll need to learn how to trust people again."
She tilted her head. "You don't think I trust you?"
Adrian didn't answer.
She stepped closer. "What is it you're not telling me?"
He turned away. "There's been movement near the southern border. My scouts found signs. Runes. Obsidian markings."
"You think the Order's getting closer."
"I think they're already here."
---
That night, Adriana wandered the estate, unable to sleep. The halls seemed longer than usual, the paintings darker. She ended up in the war room—a place she rarely visited—where the Crescent Moon map lay stretched across a long table.
She studied the markings—circles for strongholds, lines for patrol routes.
And then… a whisper.
Soft. Subtle. Like a breath against her ear.
She spun around. No one.
Then her eyes landed on a mirror near the corner of the room. A thin crack had formed across the glass—and in the shimmer of it, she saw something.
A figure. Hooded. Cloaked in violet.
She moved toward it—and the mirror shattered.
Adriana stumbled back, heart pounding. The pieces clattered to the floor, reflecting fractured pieces of her face.
Behind her, a soft voice spoke.
"You're waking up, little Luna."
Adriana turned—and saw nothing.
Just the empty hallway.
---
The next morning, she told Lira everything. The mirror. The whisper. The vision.
"It's a projection," Lira said. "A mind-mark. Someone placed a link in the estate to watch you."
Adriana's blood turned cold. "They're inside."
Lira nodded. "And they're getting bolder."
"But why now?"
"Because your power is growing," Lira said. "And they fear what you might become."
Adriana clenched her fists. "Then let them fear me."
But later, in the quiet of her chamber, she found a note tucked beneath her pillow.
A single sentence scrawled in ink that shimmered violet under the moonlight:
"He's not who you think he is."
Her hands trembled.
She didn't know if the note was from friend or enemy.
But suddenly, the question that had been gnawing at her heart returned in full force.
Did she really know Adrian?
And if not… what was he hiding?