Chapter 3 “The Moonlit Walls”

The journey through the forest felt endless.

Mist clung to the air like breath frozen in time, curling around the armored figures who flanked me. Their silver masks gleamed faintly, wolf-shaped and solemn, hiding every hint of humanity beneath them. The air grew colder the deeper we went, and though dawn was breaking somewhere beyond the clouds, the forest here seemed untouched by sunlight.

I stumbled once, my wrists still bound, and the nearest guard caught my arm — not gently.

“Careful, human,” he muttered, his voice low and guttural.

Human.

The word struck sharper than his grip.

We broke through the last line of trees, and suddenly, the forest opened into a wide ravine. What I saw below stole the air from my lungs.

Nestled between the cliffs was a city unlike any I had imagined — built of stone and silver, glowing faintly under the retreating moon. Tall spires spiraled upward like claws toward the sky. Bridges of black glass crossed a river that shimmered with faint light, as if moonlight lived in its waters. The air smelled of iron, smoke, and something ancient — the raw scent of magic.

“The Silverfang Realm,” one of the guards said, almost proudly. “You stand where no mortal should.”

I didn’t answer. Words felt small in the face of something so old, so otherworldly.

As we descended the carved path toward the gates, I noticed statues lining the way — wolves, carved in mid-howl, eyes inset with pale stones that gleamed faintly as we passed. I could swear their gazes followed me.

The gates themselves were massive, etched with runes that pulsed like veins of light when the soldiers approached. One pressed his palm against a sigil, and with a deep groan, the gates opened inward.

Inside, the city was alive. Wolves — actual wolves — padded through the streets beside men and women whose eyes gleamed faint gold in the dim light. Market stalls sold strange things: silver fruits, bottles of moonlit mist, talismans shaped like fangs. I caught whispers as we passed — people stopping mid-step to stare.

“Is that her?”

“She bears the bond mark.”

“Impossible. A human?”

My heart pounded. I looked down at my hands, and for the first time, noticed faint lines of light threading under my skin, like silver veins that pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat. I curled my fingers into fists.

They led me into a courtyard surrounded by high marble walls. At the center stood a fountain shaped like a wolf’s head, water spilling from its jaws. The soldiers halted before a grand staircase leading up to a set of ornate doors.

“Wait here,” the lead guard ordered.

He disappeared inside, leaving me with the other two, whose silence felt heavier than chains. A soft wind stirred my hair, carrying the faint scent of pine and rain.

Minutes passed — or hours. I couldn’t tell. Then the doors opened again, and the lead guard returned.

“Come,” he said. “The Queen will see you.”

My stomach twisted.

The throne room was vast and cold, lit by torches that burned with silver flames. At its center, on a dais of black stone, sat Queen Morwen. Her hair was white as frost, her eyes bright amber — too bright, too sharp. Power radiated from her like winter itself.

“So,” she said softly, her voice like silk sliding over steel. “The healer who mended my son’s wound.”

Her son.

My breath caught.

She rose from her throne, descending the steps with a grace that was more predator than human. “You trespassed on sacred ground,” she said, circling me slowly. “But that is not your gravest sin.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

She stopped in front of me, her gaze piercing. “The Blood Moon bond,” she said. “It should not be possible between mortal and wolf. Yet his pulse beats in you.”

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what I was doing. He was hurt—he would have died—”

Her expression didn’t soften. “And now he lives because of you. Which means the Moon herself has chosen.”

The doors behind me opened again. A hush swept through the hall.

Footsteps — slow, deliberate.

When I turned, I nearly forgot to breathe.

The man who entered was tall, his presence commanding without effort. Silver hair framed a face that seemed carved from shadow and moonlight, his eyes the same gold I had seen in the wolf’s. His chest was bandaged beneath a dark tunic, and faint scars traced his arms. But what struck me most wasn’t his beauty — it was the pulse I felt inside me, thrumming wildly in answer to his heartbeat.

The wolf I had saved.

The prince.

Queen Morwen’s lips curved faintly. “Prince Kael, your bond awakens.”

His gaze met mine — steady, unreadable. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just us.

“I remember your voice,” he said quietly, the timbre of his tone sending shivers through me. “You told me not to die.”

Heat rose in my cheeks. “You were bleeding out. I didn’t know you were—”

“Silverfang,” he finished for me. His expression flickered — something between gratitude and sorrow. “Neither did you know what you’ve done.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, but Queen Morwen’s voice cut through the silence.

“The bond cannot be undone,” she said. “Until the next Blood Moon, your fates are intertwined. If one of you dies, so will the other.”

My heart stuttered. “What?”

Kael’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “It means,” he said quietly, “that for now… you belong here.”

The words sank like stones in my chest.

The Queen turned to her guards. “Take her to the west wing. She will remain under royal watch.” Then to Kael, her gaze sharp as glass: “And you, my son — keep your heart steady. Bonds have destroyed kings before.”

Kael inclined his head, but his eyes stayed on me. For a heartbeat, something unspoken passed between us — a question neither of us could yet ask.

As they led me away, I glanced back once more. The Queen had turned away, but Kael still stood there, watching.

And though I didn’t understand it, a part of me already knew — the pulse inside me wasn’t just a bond.

It was a beginning.