The Moon's Forgotten Heir

The night cried out.

Wolves howled from the cliffs above the monastery, their cries long and sharp, slicing through the silence like blades. Snow fell heavy, covering the world in white but not for long. Blood would soon stain it red.

Rayne ran.

The cold surface made her bare feet slip as she dashed across the courtyard. Behind her, fire climbed the wooden walls of the monastery, devouring everything in its course. Smoke mixed with the falling snow like a storm of ash, causing the sky to appear orange. Screams echoed from inside. Monks-her only family-were dying.

She didn't understand why.

She didn't understand anything.

Her breath came in gasps, white against the dark. Her lungs burned. Her chest ached. Her skin felt wrong-too tight like something inside her was trying to break out. Her bones ached. Her vision blurred.

But she didn't stop running.

"Find the girl!" a voice shouted from the flames. Metal boots crunched over the snow behind her.

Rayne did not yell when she swerved and ducked through the narrow gate at the edge of the monastery garden, falling hard and scraping her palms on ice. She pressed herself against the cold stone with a racing heart as she slid behind a fallen statue of the Moon Goddess.

The soldiers were close. She could hear them now. From the footfalls, three-no, four. She gritted her teeth to keep her breaths from being too loud.

Why are they here? she thought. Why now?

She hadn't done anything wrong. She had never even left the monastery.

But tonight, everything had changed.

It started with the moon.

It wasn't just full-it was huge, bright like silver fire. When Rayne saw it rising above the mountains, she had felt something stir inside her. Like a whisper. Like something ancient had woken up. Her skin burned, her fingers shook, and her bones-her bones shifted. Her senses sharpened. She had run to the monks, crying, her body half-wild, and they had looked at her with fear.

Brother Tamir-the one who had raised her since she was a baby, had grabbed her shoulders and whispered, "The blood is real." Then he had pushed her toward the secret tunnel under the prayer hall.

But the soldiers arrived too fast.

Now, he was gone.

A boot stepped beside the statue. Rayne froze. A soldier with a black crest scanned the trees beyond.

"She's here somewhere," he growled. "The witch must not leave these grounds."

Witch? Rayne bit her lip. I'm not a witch.

But deep down, something whispered Are you sure?

The soldier turned away. He didn't see her. Rayne waited until his footsteps faded, then slowly crawled out.

She needed to get to the mountain trail. If she could reach the old hunter's path, she could vanish into the woods. No one would find her there. She had hidden there before when monks argued, when chores were too much, when she needed to be alone.

Alone. That word hit her now, harder than ever.

Everyone was gone.

She started to run again, ignoring the pain in her feet. Her hands were shaking now. Not from cold-but from something else. Something inside.

The moonlight touched her skin again and she cried out.

It was like fire-white fire-rushing through her veins. Her spine arched. She knelt down and gripped her stomach.

Is something wrong with me?

Her nails lengthened, turning dark. Her breath came in snarls. Her heartbeat was too fast. She could hear everything-every twig snap, every scream, every word the soldiers muttered across the flames.

Her mouth opened in a scream-but what came out wasn't human.

It was a growl. Deep. Wild.

No... no...

Rayne fell face-first into the snow, her fingers digging into the frozen ground. Her body shook. Something was tearing out from her skin-something not meant to be seen. Her back arched again. Her eyes burned. She clawed at herself.

And then it stopped.

She lay there, panting.

Snow fell on her back. The fire behind her roared. Her body still hurt but something had changed.

She felt... different.

Lighter. Stronger. Sharper.

Rayne slowly pushed herself up and saw her hands.

They were no longer human.

Claws. Black. Gleaming. Her fingers were longer, jointed wrong. She touched her face. Her jaw felt wider. Her breath left her in clouds, steam rising from her skin.

What am I?

Before she could answer, the soldiers returned.

"There!" someone shouted.

Rayne turned, eyes glowing in the dark.

They had swords drawn. Five of them. She backed away, instinct screaming at her to run but something else rose in her. Something... hungry.

"Don't let her shift again!" one yelled.

Shift? Again?

She didn't have time to ask. One of them charged.

She moved faster than she thought possible. She ducked, rolled under the swing of his sword, and slashed. Blood sprayed across the snow. The soldier screamed, falling to his knees.

She stared at her hand.

I just... I didn't mean to...

Another came at her. She turned, leapt higher than she ever had, landed behind him, and ran. She didn't want to kill. She just wanted to leave.

She darted through the burning wreckage of the prayer hall, her body still pulsing with strange power. Arrows flew past her. One grazed her arm. She cried out, more from shock than pain.

Then she saw it-the tunnel.

Brother Tamir's voice echoed in her head: "If the moon ever calls you, run. Follow the hidden path. Never look back."

She reached the edge of the temple steps, lifted the stone lid of the old offering well, and dropped inside.

She was swallowed by darkness.

The air left her lungs as she struck the ground with force. She lay still, silent, as soldiers shouted above.

But they didn't follow.

They didn't know the tunnel existed.

She was safe. For now.

But she was also lost.

Blood dripped from her arm. Her breath slowed. Her body... shrank. The claws faded. The strange sharpness in her bones vanished. She was herself again-mostly.

She curled up in the tunnel, cold, shaking, and afraid.

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

What am I?

She didn't know. All she knew was that the only life she'd ever had was gone. The monastery, the monks, Brother Tamir... all of it-burned away.

Because of her.

Because of what she was.

She closed her eyes and said a name she had never said before, not even to herself, not aloud.

"Rayne... of the Moonblood."

The words came like a memory not her own.

And somewhere above, the moon watched.