Chapter 12: Mark of the Moon
The sun had barely crested the horizon when Aria woke to the sound of wind rushing through the treetops. She opened her eyes to find herself nestled in Lucian's arms, his heartbeat steady against her ear. The night's prophecy still burned in her veins, a whisper of flame beneath her skin. But it wasn't the fire that stirred her awake.
It was the moon.
Even now, in daylight, she could feel it pulling at her. A subtle, steady pulse beneath her skin, coalescing around the mark on her neck the crescent-shaped birthmark that had always shimmered faintly but never glowed.
Until now.
Aria sat up slowly, brushing her fingers over the spot. Her skin pulsed beneath her touch, and the crescent shone like polished silver, outlined in pale blue light. Lucian stirred beside her, eyes snapping open the moment she moved.
His gaze fell on the mark.
"No," he said immediately, backing away. "Not now."
Aria blinked at him. "Lucian"
He was already standing, his golden eyes hard, his fists clenched. "That's the Moon Mark. The true signal of a bonded mate. You're not supposed to bear it yet."
Confused, she stood too. "But we already mated. The mark"
"Is more than physical," he interrupted. "It means the Moon Goddess herself has accepted us. This isn't supposed to happen unless we're fated in every lifetime. It's... deeper than even the fire bond."
Aria frowned. "Why are you acting like this is a bad thing?"
Lucian turned his back to her, his voice low and haunted. "Because every time someone's borne the Moon Mark in our pack's history, the bond was tested. Betrayal. Blood. Death. It's a prophecy of pain."
She stepped forward. "You think I will betray you?"
His jaw tightened. "I think fate is cruel. And I've already lost too much to trust it."
The silence that fell between them was thick with unspoken grief. Aria felt her heart tremble not with fear, but frustration. She took his hand, forcing him to look at her.
"Lucian, I don't care what happened to others. I'm not them. I would rather die than hurt you."
His eyes searched hers, a thousand battles raging behind them. He wanted to believe her she saw that. But belief was hard-won for a man with scars carved deeper than the skin.
He dropped her hand and walked away, disappearing into the forest's shadows.
Hours passed.
Aria remained near the fire, staring at the crescent mark as it glowed on her skin. The Fire Witch had spoken of destiny, of ancient roles and powers. But what of choice? What if Lucian chose not to accept her?
A breeze stirred, and with it, a vision.
The trees bent inward. The fire dimmed. And in the smoke, a face emerged female, serene, and glowing with silver light.
The Moon Goddess.
"Why are you afraid of love, child?" she asked, her voice soft as moonlight.
Aria's breath caught. "He fears I will betray him. That this bond is a curse."
"The Moon Mark only appears when two souls have found each other again across time. It is not a curse. It is a gift fragile, but powerful."
"Then why is it always followed by pain?"
"Because love that is eternal must be tested." The goddess paused. "You are Fire-Blooded. He is Moon-Cursed. Together, you will either save this world... or destroy it."
Before Aria could respond, the vision dissolved. The wind ceased. The fire flared back to life.
By the time Lucian returned, night had fallen.
He was quiet, cautious. But something in his eyes had changed. A softening.
"You're still here," he said.
"Where else would I go?"
He sat beside her. "I went to speak with an elder. He confirmed the Moon Mark's appearance is a sign... but not always a death sentence. There's one story just one where it ended in peace."
Aria's heart stirred. "Then let us be that story."
Lucian reached for her slowly, his fingers brushing the mark on her neck. The glowing crescent pulsed beneath his touch. Their eyes locked.
And then he kissed her.
This kiss was different from the hunger of before. It was reverent. Full of unspoken promises.
"We walk together," he murmured. "Through fire. Through shadow. Through the Moon's judgment."
She leaned into him. "Always."
As their lips met again, the mark flared bright, casting silver light across their joined hands.
And deep in the forest, the shadows watching them hissed and retreated.
Far to the east, in the high mountains, the vampire lord stood before a carved stone altar. Blood dripped into a chalice. He drank, and red flames rose.
"The Moon has chosen," he whispered. "So be it. Then I choose death."
His army would march. The prophecy would bleed.