The night was too quiet.
After the roar of the Red Moon's awakening, the silence felt like a trap—like the world had taken a deep breath and forgotten how to exhale. I stood in the ruins of the Sanctuary, ash clinging to my hair, the scent of burnt silver in the air. Every heartbeat echoed against the empty halls.
Luca leaned against what was left of a column, his hands bloodied but steady. The crimson glow had faded from his eyes, though it lingered faintly, like embers refusing to die.
"You shouldn't be standing," he said softly.
"I could say the same to you." My voice cracked. "You nearly burned through your own life-force, Luca."
He looked away, jaw tightening. "It was the only way to contain it. The moon wanted blood. I gave it mine."
Something in me twisted at that—fear, guilt, and something else I didn't want to name. "And if you'd died?"
He gave a weak smile. "Then maybe it would've been quieter."
I wanted to hit him for that, but instead, I knelt beside him. His skin was cold, his pulse faint but steady. I didn't know how to heal him, not truly. The Sanctuary's healers were gone—or worse. The only thing I had left was instinct.
And instinct told me that something in the air was still wrong.
The moon had waned, but the shadows hadn't. They moved when I wasn't looking—curling, whispering. They didn't belong to us anymore. They belonged to something older, hungrier.
"Do you hear that?" I whispered.
Luca's eyes flicked open again. "No."
"Exactly." I stood, scanning the darkness. "That's what scares me."
We walked through the shattered corridor together, slow and wary. The once-holy symbols etched into the walls were blackened, pulsing faintly as if alive. Every step stirred the dust of the fallen—wolves, hunters, humans. The war had left no side clean.
When we reached the courtyard, the moonlight caught on something buried in the rubble. A gleam—small but sharp. I knelt and brushed the soot away.
It was a pendant.
Silver, with a crescent-shaped crack across its center. I recognized it immediately—the emblem of the Lunaris Order. The same order that banished my family years ago.
My throat tightened. "They were here."
Luca's eyes darkened. "Impossible. The Order was wiped out during the Eclipse War."
"Apparently not." I turned the pendant over. On the back, scratched deep into the metal, were two words:
We return.
Luca swore under his breath. "This isn't over."
"It never is," I murmured. "Not for people like us."
The wind picked up, carrying the faintest sound—like chanting, distant and low. Luca's hand brushed mine, a warning and a comfort in one. I looked toward the forest, where the dark seemed thicker, heavier.
The Red Moon might've set, but its curse hadn't.
And in that silence, I knew—something new had awakened.