The scent of iron clung to the wind.
Not the usual tang of blood from skirmishes or wounds. No, this was older, heavier—ritualistic. It oozed from the earth like a secret that had waited too long to be told.
I tightened my grip on the blade hidden beneath my cloak as Kane and I followed Lyra through the underbrush. We were a scouting party now—tracking the magical disturbances flaring across the northern border of the Sanctuary.
"Still nothing from the Crescent Pack?" I asked, breaking the silence.
Lyra shook her head. "They haven't responded to the signal fires. Either they're too scared… or they're already gone."
Gone.
The word tasted bitter.
We hadn't fully recovered from the Gate event. Three sentinels had died. The seal had closed, yes—but it wasn't healed. And I wasn't healed either.
The dreams had started again.
Every night since the ritual, I saw flashes—visions of women bearing the Moonveil mark, bleeding into ancient soil, whispering names I didn't recognize. One name stood out though. Repeated in every vision.
"Maelra."
It was carved in my memory now like a curse.
I hadn't told Kane yet. Not all of it.
He walked beside me now, always watching, always protective. But he didn't understand the pull. The voice in the dark. The part of me that wasn't fully mine anymore.
We reached the clearing Lyra had spotted on her patrol, and all three of us froze.
The trees here had been stripped of bark, forming a perfect circle. At the center, symbols had been scorched into the earth—twisted versions of the ones I'd used to momentarily seal the Gate.
This wasn't just a magical flare.
This was a message.
Kane stepped forward cautiously. "This isn't Druidic. It's something else."
I knelt beside one of the symbols, fingers tingling. "It's corrupted. They're mimicking Moonveil script."
Lyra's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"To find me," I said. "To call me."
A cold wind blew through the trees. I stood slowly, my skin crawling with recognition.
"They're trying to undo what I did. The seal… my blood sealed it. If they twist the spell and bind me, they can reopen it permanently."
Kane growled. "Over my dead body."
"No," I said quietly. "That's what they want. Blood—yours, mine, anyone connected to the Veil. It's not just magic. It's sacrificial."
The realization hit me like a blow to the ribs. "They need a Moonveil… or someone of my bloodline."
Lyra's eyes widened. "Your mother?"
"She's dead."
Kane turned slowly to face me, his voice carefully controlled. "Are you sure about that?"
I blinked. "What?"
"I've seen strange movements in the southern archives. Files sealed before your birth. Mentions of a woman—Celyra—banished for forbidden magic. They say she bore a child marked by the moon but was never found."
My chest felt tight. "You think that's my mother?"
Kane nodded grimly. "And if she's alive… she may be the key they're after."
That night, back at the Sanctuary, I snuck into the archive tower alone.
I knew Kane would've stopped me. Told me to wait for reinforcements. But I didn't have time.
I needed answers.
The tower was silent, save for the faint creak of old stone and the occasional flutter of owl wings outside. I used the crescent-shaped pendant I'd found in the ruins near the Gate to unlock the ancient seal.
The chamber was thick with dust and silence.
Scrolls, tomes, and fractured crystals littered the shelves. I scanned them until I found it—a leather-bound book marked with the same crescent-and-flame sigil that had appeared on my skin during the sealing ritual.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
"Celyra Moonveil," I whispered.
The entries weren't just historical. They were personal. Letters. Confessions. Ritual notes. And then… a birth record.
"The child bears the mark of prophecy. Born beneath the Eclipse. Eyes like silver flame. Voice that shakes the veil. She must be hidden. The world is not ready. I am not ready."
Tears welled in my eyes. This was real. She was real.
And she'd given me up to protect me.
But she was alive. Somewhere.
Before I could turn the next page, I heard a footstep behind me.
I turned, blade already half-drawn.
But it wasn't Kane.
It was Malric.
His face was calm. Too calm.
"I knew you'd come here eventually," he said.
"You've been following me."
"I've been waiting."
He stepped forward, eyes gleaming. "The Gate was only the beginning, Elara. You felt it, didn't you? The power. The belonging. We were never meant to be leashed."
I held the book close. "You betrayed the packs. You opened a door you can't close."
"I opened a door to our future," he hissed. "You think you're special because the seal responded to you? Because the Gate whispered your name? That was just the first trial. There's more waiting—beneath the Hollow. You and I—we're the same. Blood-born. Chosen."
"No," I said, my voice shaking. "You twisted what was sacred. You corrupted it."
He smiled. "And I'll do it again. Because you're not ready to make the hard choice."
And with that, he vanished—into shadows that shouldn't exist inside a sacred sanctuary.
I staggered back, clutching the journal to my chest.
There was only one thing I was sure of now.
This wasn't just about prophecy or power.
It was about blood.
Mine. My mother's.
And the war that would follow when the truth came to light.