Selene knelt in the scorched rose garden, staring at her sister's face.
Isolde looked peaceful. That's what made it worse.
No pain in her expression. No fear. Just... empty.
Like someone had blown out a candle and the light was simply gone.
Selene reached out. Touched Isolde's cheek.
Cold.
The skin was hard under her fingers. Like touching stone. Like touching something that had never been alive.
But Isolde had been alive. Just hours ago. Laughing. Running. Playing chase through the great hall.
Now she was this. This still, cold thing.
Selene's wolf howled inside her chest. The sound was so full of anguish it felt like her soul was tearing apart. Ripping down the middle. Splitting into pieces that would never fit back together.
The howl tried to escape her throat. Came out as a whimper.
She couldn't look away from Isolde's eyes. They stared at nothing. Seeing nothing. The bright spark that had been her sister was just... gone.
Where did it go? Where did people go when they died?
Mama had told stories about the Moon Goddess. About how she welcomed fallen wolves into her celestial pack. Let them run forever under starlight.
Was Isolde running now? With Mama and Papa?
Or was she just... gone?
The sun climbed higher. Dawn light spilled across the destroyed estate.
The grounds were empty now. Eerily empty.
The soldiers had been thorough. All the bodies were gone. Dragged away or burned. Every trace of the massacre erased.
Except the destruction itself.
The manor was a skeleton. Black bones against gray sky. The east wing had collapsed completely. The great hall where they'd danced and feasted was a charred crater. Smoke still rose, thin and ghostly.
Scorch marks on the stone pathways. Bloodstains the soldiers hadn't bothered to scrub away.
But no bodies. No evidence of who had died here.
Just Isolde. Left behind in the rose garden. Overlooked or forgotten.
Or left as bait.
The thought made Selene's stomach twist.
What if they'd left Isolde here on purpose? Knowing Selene would come looking? Knowing she'd find her?
What if they were watching right now?
Selene's eyes darted to the tree line. The ruined manor. The shadows.
Nothing moved. No soldiers. No masked wolves.
Just silence and ash.
Her tears fell without sound. They dripped onto Isolde's face. Washing away the soot. Leaving clean tracks on gray skin.
The mark on her forehead throbbed. A constant ache. A brand that wouldn't stop burning.
They'd come for her. The soldiers. The masked wolves.
All of this death. All of this destruction.
Because of a mark on her forehead she didn't ask for.
Because of a prophecy she didn't understand.
Her parents had died protecting her.
Isolde had died because she looked like Selene. Because she was in the way. Because killing her was easier than checking which sister had the mark.
All of it. Her fault.
Selene looked down at Isolde's hands. Small. Delicate. A child's hands that would never grow.
One was curled into a fist. Clutching something.
Selene gently uncurled the cold fingers.
A piece of fabric fell out. Torn. Bloodstained.
Crimson fabric. Embroidered with gold thread along one edge.
Selene picked it up. Her hands shook.
She knew these colors. Had seen them on the soldiers' banners. On their armor.
Crimson and gold. The Alpha King's colors.
Isolde must have grabbed it during the attack. Torn it from a soldier's banner or cloak. Fighting back even as they killed her.
Her baby sister. Seven years old. Still fighting.
The fabric felt heavy in Selene's palm. Heavier than cloth should be.
It felt like proof.
Like a promise that needed keeping.
"I'll remember," Selene whispered.
Her voice was different now. Harder. Colder.
Something in her chest had frozen. The part that cried and begged and hoped.
That part was dead.
What remained was ice and fury.
"I'll remember who did this. I'll remember these colors. I'll remember his name."
Alpha King Damian.
His soldiers. His orders. His massacre.
He'd done this. Ordered children murdered. Ordered families slaughtered.
And one day, Selene would make him pay.
The grief was still there. Raw and bleeding. But underneath it, something else was growing.
Hate.
Cold. Patient. Permanent.
Footsteps crunched on gravel.
Selene's head snapped up. Her hand went to the knife at her belt.
"It's me." Alaric's voice. Rough. Exhausted.
He stood at the garden's edge. Covered in blood and ash. His clothes hung in tatters. Cuts covered his exposed skin.
He looked destroyed.
He stumbled forward. Fell to his knees beside Selene.
His eyes found Isolde's body. The silver dagger. The stillness.
A sound tore from his throat. Raw. Animal. Like something breaking inside him.
"Gods. No. Not her."
He reached toward Isolde. Stopped. His hand shook in the air between them.
Then he pulled it back. Covered his face instead.
His shoulders shook.
Crying. Her brother was crying.
Selene watched him. Numb. Distant.
She should cry too. Should break down. Should scream.
But the cold thing in her chest wouldn't let her.
"I searched everywhere," Alaric said through his hands. His voice was muffled. Broken. "The whole estate. Every building. Every room."
He lowered his hands. His face was wet.
"They took all the bodies. Burned them or hauled them away. I found the pyre near the east wall. Still smoldering. Your parents, the guests, the servants... all gone. No way to even give them proper burials."
His voice cracked.
"They erased everyone. Like they were never here."
The words should hurt. Should tear her apart.
But Selene already knew. Had already understood.
This wasn't just murder. It was erasure.
"We're the only ones left," Alaric whispered.
He looked at her. His eyes were haunted. Red-rimmed.
Then his gaze shifted. Fixed on her forehead.
His expression changed. The grief flickered. Something else slid beneath it.
Fear.
"Selene." His voice dropped. Became urgent. "The mark. It's still there."
Selene touched her forehead where the burning had finally faded to a dull throb.
Her fingers traced the shape. Raised skin. A ridge that hadn't been there yesterday.
It felt like a scar. But fresh. New. Still tender.
A crescent moon.
She could feel its curve under her fingertips. Could trace the points at each end.
"Let me find something," Alaric said. His voice was hoarse. "You need to see it."
He stood. Moved through the scorched garden toward the ruined manor.
Selene stayed kneeling beside Isolde. She couldn't leave her sister. Not yet.
The mark throbbed in time with her heartbeat. A constant reminder.
This is why they came. This is why everyone died.
Alaric returned carrying something. A polished shield. Dented and blackened by smoke but still reflective enough.
He knelt beside Selene. Held it up so she could see.
"Look."
Selene looked at her reflection.
A stranger stared back.
Soot-streaked face. Tear tracks cutting through the grime. Eyes red and swollen.
And on her forehead, just above her brows, a perfect crimson crescent moon.
It wasn't a wound. Not a cut or a burn.
It was a mark. Raised slightly from the skin. The color of fresh blood. Glowing faintly in the morning light like it had its own inner fire.
Beautiful and terrible.
Selene's breath caught. "What is it?"
"The Crimson Crescent." Alaric's voice shook. "The mark from the ancient prophecy."
"What prophecy?"
He set the shield down. Looked at her with those haunted eyes.
"Centuries ago, seers foretold of a wolf marked by the blood moon. A she-wolf who would either save or destroy the werewolf kingdoms."
Selene shook her head. "That's just a story. A legend."
"No. It's real. The mark appears only in times of great upheaval. When the kingdoms are on the brink of war or ruin. It chooses a she-wolf of immense power."
"I don't have power. I'm ten years old. I can't even shift properly yet."
"You will." Alaric's voice was certain. Dark. "The mark amplifies what's already there. Your wolf. Your strength. Your... everything."
He looked at Isolde's body. At the ruined estate.
"They came for you," he said bitterly. "All of this. Everyone dead. Your parents. Your sister. The guests. The servants. All of it... because of what you are."
The words hit like blows.
Because of what you are.
Not who. What.
Like she was a thing. A curse. A weapon.
"I didn't ask for this," Selene whispered.
"I know."
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"I know."
"Then why?" Her voice broke. "Why did they have to die? Why did the soldiers come? Why did those masked wolves..."
She couldn't finish. The memory of Isolde being dragged away. The screaming.
Alaric pulled her close. Wrapped his arms around her.
She didn't fight it. Just collapsed against him. Sobbing into his shoulder.
He held her while she broke apart.
"I know," he whispered into her hair. "I know it's not fair. I know you didn't ask for any of this."
"Make it stop. Please make it stop."
"I can't. The mark is permanent. Once it appears, it doesn't fade."
Selene's sobs turned to hiccups. Then to silence.
She pulled back. Looked at him.
"Who ordered the attack? Who sent the soldiers?"
Alaric's jaw tightened. Something flickered in his eyes. Anger. Or maybe something else.
"The Alpha King. Damian Thalor."
The name settled over them like a shroud.
Alpha King Damian.
Selene had heard stories about him. The young king who'd taken the throne after his father's death. Strong. Fair. Beloved by his people.
But those were just stories.
The truth was different.
"He fears the prophecy," Alaric said. "Fears what a marked she-wolf could do. Could become."
"So he killed everyone? Children? Innocents?"
"He wanted to eliminate the threat before it could grow. Before you could learn to use your power."
Selene looked at the mark in the shield's reflection. At the crimson crescent glowing on her forehead.
This tiny thing. This mark she didn't ask for.
It had cost her everything.
"The Alpha King ordered this?" she asked again. Needing to be sure. Needing to understand.
"Yes." Alaric's voice was certain. Bitter. "He sent his soldiers. Gave the command to wipe out your entire family. No survivors. No mercy."
Selene's grief began to shift. To harden.
The cold thing in her chest grew colder.
Sharper.
"Alpha King Damian," she whispered. Testing the name. Tasting it.
It felt like poison on her tongue.
He'd killed her parents.
He'd killed Isolde.
He'd destroyed her entire world because he was afraid.
Because he was a coward.
"He did this," Selene said. Not a question anymore. A statement. A fact.
"Yes."
She looked at her sister's body. At the crimson fabric still clutched in her hand. The Alpha King's colors.
Proof.
Evidence.
A promise.
"One day," Selene said quietly, "I'm going to kill him."
Alaric went still. "Selene..."
"I'm going to find him. I'm going to get strong. I'm going to learn to use whatever power this mark gives me."
Her voice was cold now. Empty of everything except hate.
"And then I'm going to kill Alpha King Damian. For Mama. For Papa. For Isolde. For everyone."
She looked at Alaric. Met his eyes.
"Will you help me?"
He stared at her. Something complex moved across his face. Surprise. Calculation. Maybe pride.
Then he nodded slowly.
"Yes. I'll help you. I'll teach you everything I know. I'll keep you safe until you're strong enough."
He gripped her shoulders.
"But it will take years, Selene. You're just a child now. You'll need to train. To hide. To survive."
"I don't care how long it takes."
"The Alpha King has armies. Guards. Power."
"I don't care."
"He'll be looking for you. When he finds out you survived."
"Let him look." Selene's voice was ice. "One day, I'll find him first."
Alaric studied her face. Seeing something there he hadn't seen before.
The child who'd twirled in silk gowns and chased her sister through great halls was gone.
What remained was harder. Colder.
Forged in fire and grief.
"You're not just a child anymore, are you?" he whispered.
Selene looked at Isolde's body. At the mark on her forehead.
"No," she said. "I'm not."