The wind was wrong.
It whispered through the trees like a warning, not the gentle breeze Selene was used to. Even the birds—usually so loud in the forest at this hour—had gone silent. It was the kind of quiet that spoke of death before it came.
Selene crouched low in the undergrowth, a hand pressed against the cool earth. Her senses were sharp, trained from years of hiding, surviving, running. But tonight felt different. The air was thick with it—the tension, the dread, the scent of burning wood miles away.
Her heart pounded against her ribs.
She knew what that meant.
They were here.
The Royal Hunt.
For as long as she could remember, her people had lived as shadows. Hidden among trees and caves, cloaked by the wilderness and bound by secrecy. The Forsaken were not supposed to exist, not in the eyes of the Royals. They were seen as cursed creatures, descendants of traitors who dared to defy the Moon Goddess centuries ago. They weren't given second chances. Only extermination.
Every few moons, the Hunt would begin. The palace would send their soldiers into the wilds, under the excuse of preserving peace and purging the land of "corruption." But Selene knew better. It was punishment. It was fear. It was control.
And now… it was her turn.
She heard the faintest snap of a branch behind her and turned swiftly, dagger in hand. But it was only Eli—his dark curls matted with sweat, and panic written all over his face.
"Selene," he hissed. "They've broken the warding lines. The northern fires—it's not just a warning this time. They're here for blood."
Her grip tightened around the hilt of her blade. "How close?"
"Less than a mile. The elders are sending the younglings into the caves, but they won't hold for long. There's talk they brought fire wolves."
Fire wolves. Royal-bred monsters with flaming eyes and iron fangs—trained to sniff out traitor blood. Trained to find people like her.
Selene felt a cold ripple run down her spine.
There was a reason they hunted her kind so desperately. A reason she had been told never to step near the capital, never to reveal her face, never to shift unless it was life or death.
Because Selene wasn't just a Forsaken.
She was something else. Something dangerous. Something forgotten.
She was the last descendant of the Moon Queen.
And if they found out who she really was… they wouldn't just kill her. They'd parade her corpse through the capital.
"We don't have much time," she said sharply. "Take the river path and follow the southern current until it splits. Hide in the thorn caves. I'll lead them off."
"You're not faster than fire wolves," Eli argued, grabbing her wrist. "You'll be caught—"
"I'm not trying to outrun them," she interrupted, voice calm, steady. "I'm trying to give the rest of you a chance."
His eyes searched hers. He wanted to argue more, but he knew her too well. Selene didn't run from fights. Not when it came to protecting people.
He finally nodded. "If you don't make it—"
"I will."
A quick clasp of wrists—an unspoken vow—and then they separated.
Selene moved like the wind—silent, fast, determined. Her boots barely made a sound as she darted through the darkening woods, each breath controlled, each movement measured. She followed the old hunter trails, twisting through thorns and shadows, hoping to draw the soldiers off the others' trail.
But fate had other plans.
One wrong step was all it took.
Snap.
Pain exploded up her leg as a rusted metal trap snapped shut around her ankle. She screamed, falling hard to the earth. Her vision blurred with pain, but she gritted her teeth and reached for her dagger.
Too late.
A boot slammed down on her arm, wrenching the weapon from her grasp. Selene snarled, baring her teeth, her wolf thrashing beneath her skin.
"Well, well," a voice sneered above her. "What have we here?"
She glared up at the armored man towering over her, his face obscured by a steel helm marked with the royal crest—a blood-red moon over crossed blades.
"A pretty little beast," he muttered, kneeling beside her and grabbing a fistful of her hair. "And look at those eyes. You're no ordinary Forsaken, are you?"
Selene's icy gaze met his. "Touch me again, and I'll rip your throat out."
He laughed, a cruel sound. "Still got bite. Prince Kael will enjoy breaking you."
Her blood froze at the name.
Crown Prince Kael of House Thorne. The Ghost Wolf. The Hunter of Traitors. Said to be as cruel as he was beautiful, a warrior born from frost and steel. He was the one who led the Hunt now. And if he laid eyes on her… her secret wouldn't stay hidden for long.
The soldier struck her across the face with the hilt of his blade.
Darkness swam in, and Selene slipped into it like falling into water—cold, endless, and silent.
---
When she woke, she was no longer in the forest.
The scent of pine was gone, replaced by stone and smoke. Her wrists were bound in silver shackles, burning against her skin. Her ankle throbbed with pain, and she could barely lift her head.
But she did.
She forced her eyes open.
She was in a cell. Deep beneath the palace, judging by the faint hum of magic in the walls.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Two soldiers passed her cell, whispering.
"She doesn't look like much."
"Don't be fooled," the second murmured. "The prince thinks she's one of them. A Moonblood."
Selene's heart stopped.
Then another voice. This one colder. Closer.
"Bring her to me."
It was the voice of royalty.
Of power.
Of fate.
Of the man destined to kill her.
To be continued..