Chapter 1: Arrival at Lykenshore
The bus hissed to a stop at the edge of town, kicking up a cloud of dust that clung stubbornly to Elara Moon's worn sneakers. She hugged her backpack tighter, feeling the weight of her few belongings—a couple of clothes, her notebook, and a silver pendant that had belonged to her mother—against the nervous flutter in her chest.
Lykenshore wasn't just any town. Her grandmother's letter had warned her: "Everything you need to know is here. Trust the moon, child."
Elara stepped down from the bus. The air was sharp and alive, scented with pine and the faint salt of the distant sea. A mist clung to the forest that bordered the town, sending shivers crawling up her spine.
The town itself was almost unnervingly quiet. Cobbled streets twisted past old brick houses, shutters rattling in the soft breeze. A few locals gave her curious glances. She tried to smile, but unease clung stubbornly to her like shadowed wings.
"New in town, huh?" a voice said. Elara jumped, spinning to see a boy leaning against a lamp post. He had messy black hair and eyes like molten gold. "Don't worry," he said with a crooked grin. "Most of us don't bite. Yet."
Elara blinked. "I—I'm Elara."
"Kael," he replied, tipping his head before slipping away down the narrow lane, moving with a speed and grace that made her chest tighten.
Shaking her head, she told herself it was nothing. Soon, her eyes found the house her grandmother had described, perched at the forest's edge like a guardian. Tall and ivy-covered, with smoke curling lazily from the chimney, it exuded a quiet, unshakable presence.
Elara approached, gravel crunching beneath her feet. Before she could knock, the door swung open.
"Elara, my dear," came a warm voice, gravelly yet melodic. Her grandmother, small but commanding, with silver-streaked hair and piercing blue eyes, stood in the doorway. "You've finally arrived."
Tears threatened as Elara whispered, "Grandma…" She hadn't seen Liora Moon since her mother passed, years ago, yet the presence of her grandmother felt like an anchor in a storm.
Liora's eyes softened. "Come inside. You must be tired."
Inside, the house was a blend of warmth and uncanny charm. Dark wood lined the walls, bookshelves sagging under ancient tomes. Glass jars glimmered with herbs, glowing faintly in the candlelight. Shadows danced across the walls, stretching and bending as if alive.
Elara set down her backpack, fingers brushing the silver pendant. It had been her mother's, a gift on the night she was born. Now, in Lykenshore, it thrummed faintly against her skin, alive with an energy she didn't understand.
"You're quiet," Liora observed, adjusting her shawl. "Not frightened, but… curious. That is good. Curiosity is the first step toward understanding."
"Understanding what?" Elara asked, brow furrowed.
"Everything," Liora said, a hint of mischief in her tone. "You've come here for a reason, though you don't know it yet. The forest outside… it is not what it seems."
Elara's stomach tightened. "I… don't follow."
"You will," her grandmother said. "But for now, rest. Tomorrow, I'll show you the grounds. Secrets await you, and they have waited a long time."
Night fell like a velvet curtain, and Elara lay in her attic room, the window framing the dense forest beyond. The moon rose, silver and commanding, casting light that made the mist shimmer like ghostly threads. Whispers rode the wind, unintelligible murmurs that prickled her skin.
Unable to sleep, Elara rose to the window. Moonlight spilled across the forest, illuminating a massive wolf. Its fur was black as midnight, its eyes gold and unnervingly intelligent.
And then… it shifted.
Bones realigned, body stretching and reshaping. In an impossible instant, the wolf became a boy—tall, lean, hair black as the shadows, eyes still glowing molten gold.
Elara stumbled backward, heart hammering. The boy's gaze locked onto hers, piercing, as though he could see every secret she'd ever held. Then, faster than her eyes could track, he vanished into the darkness.
The pendant on her chest throbbed. Warmth spread through her hand, then up to her heart.
"What… what is happening to me?" she whispered.
A voice, soft but undeniable, echoed through her mind:
"The moon calls, Elara Moon. It has always called."
Morning crept in, light filtering through the mist. Her grandmother's voice carried from the kitchen.
"Breakfast, child. And after that, your education begins. You have much to learn, and time will not wait."
Elara descended the stairs, trying to seem calm though her pulse raced. The smell of herbs and fresh bread softened the edge of her fear, but the memory of golden eyes haunted her.
"Sit," Liora instructed, handing her a steaming mug. "You are Moonbound, Elara. That name, your blood… it carries power. The forest, the creatures that dwell there—they will test you. But you have the gift, the mark of the wolf, whether you realize it or not."
Elara swallowed hard. "I… I don't understand. I'm just me."
"You are more than that," her grandmother said firmly. "And soon, you will have no choice but to face it."
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees. Elara's gaze drifted to the forest, and she thought she saw movement—two glowing eyes staring back.
Her chest thrummed not with fear, but anticipation.
She didn't yet know the full measure of her own power. But one thing was certain: the moon had only just begun to call.
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