SELENE
Chapter 8
Selene stood by the window, pulling the curtain just enough to look out. The night sky stretched wide above, dark and full of stars. Cold light touched her face. She had heard the tale before—first when it was told to Nyra—and each time, the same feeling came back. A slow, twisting dread. A sickness in her chest.
Because she remembered. It wasn't a story to her—not like it was for Nyra and Aeris. It had been real.
Six years ago, when the Skaldur came the first time, it had been like a nightmare. The air was thick with heat. Sweat clung to her skin, soaked the bed. She couldn't sleep. Then the screaming began.
She woke fast. Heart pounding. The cries came from the village below. When she opened her eyes, the sky was red—red with flame.
She had run to Aeris and Nyra. Woke them with shaking hands, pulled them up, took their small fingers in hers. Their eyes were wide, still full of dreams. But they trusted her. She told them not to be afraid. She led them through the halls, past servants shouting, running. Past guards in full armor, swords drawn, shouting orders.
She brought her sisters to the hidden room. Veyla and Karlene were already there, waiting.
They hid, all of them, because in Duskari, women do not fight. But Selene could not stay behind. Her brothers were still out there. She couldn't fight—but she could help the wounded.
She remembered the smell—blood and smoke. The heat of it. The way the injured came through the gates, stumbling, torn. Some cried out for help. Some did not speak at all. Their clothes were soaked red.
Veyla had healing magic. She saved many. But the Skaldur left deep wounds. They weren't even fully turned—half-wolf, half-man—and still, they ripped men apart. Tore limbs free with claws like knives.
Selene had seen it all. And she never forgot.
Duskari were known for their strategy. For quick blades and sharp minds. Their armor was light, their movements swift. They fought with skill, not force. But against the Skaldur, none of that mattered. The Skaldur were raw power—muscle and fury, teeth and claw. Every tactic failed. Every wall fell.
By the end of that night, Selene's hands were stained deep red. The blood clung beneath her nails, dried thick across her skin. It felt as though she had been in the battle herself, though she had never lifted a sword.
And then—Zerek came.
He had been younger then, but no less fearsome. His steps were heavy. His presence filled the room like a storm rolling in. He held a sword in his hand—and on that blade was the end of her brother, Veal.
Zerek roared.
His eyes burned, wild and red. His rage poured from him like smoke, thick and choking. Selene couldn't breathe. Her knees gave out, and she fell to the ground. And then—he threw it.
Her brother's head.
It flew past her, spinning. Blood sprayed her face and tangled in her hair. Warm, wet. It painted her—red like the others. She remembered the thick smell, the metallic taste in her mouth. The weight of it. It took days to wash out the stains, and longer still to forget the sound it made when it hit the stone floor. A dull, wet thud.
It rolled.
She felt sick again, the same sickness from before. But Aeris had heard enough.
"Then why do we still let them rule us?" she said, voice tight with anger. "He already took his vengeance."
Yes. Vengeance.
That was what brought the Skaldur down upon Duskari like fire from the gods. That night, they burned nearly everything. But no one—not even Father—knew the truth of what started it.
None of them had known the woman Veal and the others had hunted under the full moon. A stranger. An unlucky soul. They had chased her for sport. Laughed as she ran. And when the moon burned in their blood, they tore her apart.
She had not been just anyone.
When the full moon rose high above the peaks, the Duskari wolves felt it. A pull. A hunger. It filled the bones, the blood. It took hold of the mind. It made killers of them all.
The villagers knew better. They stayed indoors, barred their doors, whispered prayers in the dark. But the moon still called to them. Called them into the woods. Into the night.
They hunted animals.
Sometimes fae. Sometimes humans.
It was the curse that lived inside them. The wolf. The beast. They buried it deep and tried to live like men. But every full moon, it came back.
And that night—it had taken too much.
Selene had not been there the night it happened.
Veal, Eiran, Thorne, and Lazeran had already shifted, the moon dragging the wolf out of them. They ran wild into the woods, driven by instinct. Selene had stayed behind, sweating through the pain of holding the beast inside. She had locked herself in her chambers and endured the pull.
She had been sitting with her father when the doors were flung open.
And they hurled her in.
Rachel Skaldur—what was left of her—was a ruin of torn flesh and shattered bone. Blood trailed behind her like a ribbon, staining the stone floors. She had been a human. Young. Fragile. Now, just another victim of the moon.
The decision to bury her quietly, as they did all others, had been hers and Father's. They didn't ask questions. Not then. If only they had. If only they'd known.
She had not been just another human.
She had been the wife of the Skaldur prince. The mate of Zerek.
When word came that the Skaldur were searching for a missing human woman, Selene had known in her bones what it meant. She pieced it together fast. But not fast enough.
She thought reason would matter.
She thought, if they explained it, the Skaldur would understand. It was a mistake. A tragedy. The moon made beasts of them all.
But understanding never came.
The Skaldur came instead—with fire and steel. That night, they painted Duskari red. The raid was brutal. They killed without mercy.
"Listen, Aeris," Thorne said, voice heavy with calm. "Zerek doesn't just blame Veal. He blames all of us. Every Duskari. If not for his father, the King of Skaldur, Zerek would've wiped us out."
"But it was Veal who killed her," Aeris said, her brows drawn. Her voice was tight. "Then why damn us all for one man's crime? Does he seek to wipe out an entire tribe over a single woman?"
They all looked at her then. Eyes shadowed, worn by memory.
"Because she was his mate," Lazeran said. "And Zerek is not like us. He's ruled by his wolf. There's no line between man and beast in him. Only rage."
He paused. "And power. He has enough of it to end us all."
"That's why this treaty matters," Father said. "This isn't just for peace. It's survival. Zerek is only agreeing because his father commands it."
"Commands him?" Nyra asked, disbelief clear on her face. She glanced at Selene. They both knew what Zerek was like. No one commanded that man.
But Father nodded grimly.
"He cannot inherit the throne," he said, "unless he takes a Duskari princess for his wife."