Hëna Arranged by The Moon

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Chapter 1: The Stranger at Blackstone Lodge

The cold wind clawed at Luna Hart's face as she stepped off the rickety bus, her boots sinking into a fresh layer of snow. The driver gave her a curt nod before pulling away, leaving her alone on the narrow mountain road. Ahead, the trail to Blackstone Lodge wound upward, disappearing into the shadowy embrace of the forest.

Luna adjusted the strap of her duffel bag, a single reminder of her old life, and stared into the dense woods. The job listing had been vague, but the pay was more than generous. After losing her apartment and burning through what little savings she had, Luna didn't have the luxury of being picky.

"Just a lodge," she muttered, trying to steel her nerves. "Just some rich guy's fancy retreat."

The forest swallowed her whole as she started up the trail. The air was sharp, each breath a biting reminder of how far she'd come from the noisy, crowded city. Here, the silence was almost deafening. No birds, no distant hum of traffic-only the crunch of her boots and the occasional creak of branches swaying in the wind.

She tightened her scarf, the unease settling over her like a second skin. Something about the forest felt ancient, as though it had been standing long before humans dared to carve paths through it.

It was nearly dark when the lodge came into view. The sight made her stop in her tracks.

Blackstone Lodge wasn't what she'd expected. Perched on a ridge overlooking the valley, the massive structure was equal parts imposing and beautiful. Its dark wood and glass façade gleamed against the backdrop of the snow-covered mountains. But the lodge didn't radiate warmth-it loomed like a watchful predator, its lights flickering faintly in the encroaching night.

"Miss Hart?"

The deep, resonant voice startled her. Luna whipped around to find a man standing on the stone steps leading to the entrance.

He was tall, with the kind of presence that demanded attention. His black coat, tailored to perfection, did little to hide the strength in his broad shoulders. Tousled dark hair framed a face that looked as though it had been sculpted by a master artist. His silver-gray eyes met hers, sharp and unreadable, and for a moment, Luna forgot how to breathe.

"Yes, I'm... Luna Hart," she managed, clutching the strap of her bag like a lifeline.

The man descended the steps with a quiet, almost predatory grace. He extended a gloved hand. "Kael Blackstone. Welcome to my lodge."

Luna hesitated before taking his hand. His grip was firm, his palm warm despite the frigid air. A strange current ran through her at his touch, and she quickly pulled her hand back.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Blackstone," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

His lips twitched into what might have been a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm glad you made it safely. Not many are brave enough to take the trek up here at this time of year."

The weight of his gaze made her shift uncomfortably. Before she could respond, the heavy front doors creaked open, and an older woman stepped out.

She was tall and severe, her gray-streaked hair pulled into a tight bun. Her sharp eyes swept over Luna with the precision of a blade, lingering on her worn boots and wind-chapped face.

"You're late," the woman said curtly.

"Agatha," Kael interjected, his tone smooth but firm, "our new hire has had a long journey. Let's not frighten her off on her first day."