Page 18 of Moonlit Fate

“Only if you asked.” I pinned her with my gaze. “Only then.”

The world around us faded into a mere backdrop as my focus narrowed on the woman before me. She was so close now that our breaths mingled, creating a warm cloud in the cold of the night.

My gaze dropped to the delicate curve of her collarbone, where a small crescent moon-shaped birthmark rested. Without thinking, I reached out, fingers quivering slightly as I traced the outline of the mark. Aria shivered, and the sight sent an unexpected jolt of pleasure through me.

“I have a similar mark.” Had fate marked us both? “It’s here.” I touched my hip bone, where an identical moon marked my skin.

She turned her head, and her long, silver hair cascaded over her shoulder, veiling her face momentarily. Compelled by a desire to see her clearly, I gently brushed the strands away. Our gazes locked, and for an instant, the world vanished around us until it was only Aria and me.

“Don’t mate the prick,” I said, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a request. It was a plea, spoken with raw honesty.

Without waiting for her response, I turned on my heel, leaving the clearing—and Aria—behind. Each step that took me away from her was heavier than the last and laden with regret. I didn’t know what the hell had compelled me to speak those final words, but they had felt right.

I shifted again and navigated my way back home, mindful of my route this time. The once-familiar forest was now foreign with its strange energy and pulsing magic. The clearing where I’d encountered Aria had been an unexpected detour, far from my intended path.

This time, the journey passed without surprises. Once I was inside my personal quarters, surrounded by the familiar, I tried to shake off the encounter. But Aria’s image was seared into my mind, the involuntary shudder her body couldn’t conceal, and the haunting beauty of her birthmark that was a replica of my own.

The last vestiges of the nightmare that had haunted me—the betrayal of my original pack, the sharp sting of exile—were gone, and I crawled into bed. The run had drained me, and I fell asleep to thoughts of Aria.

The scentof roasted meat floated through the den, drawing me out of my room and into the communal space where our makeshift family gathered.

“Afternoon,” I grunted in greeting as I slumped into my chair at the rough-hewn table. The warmth of the space wrapped around me, comforting yet too tight, like a well-meaning embrace when you’re yearning to exhale.

Joren passed me a plate piled with food. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” I stabbed my fork into the tender meat and took a bite. Flavors exploded on my tongue, bringing me back to the present.

Hale leaned forward. “Tell us what’s going on.”

I sighed. “There’s a restlessness in the forest. A shift in the magic that weaves through the land.”

Mia tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “We’ve felt it. But what does it mean?”

“The prophecy,” I said after a pause, the word lingering with a sense of foreboding.

Joren scoffed. “Prophecy?”

“I went out in the early hours. Couldn’t sleep, so I ran the perimeter. I met with Ryker. He spoke of an old tale, about two shifters altering the balance of power.”

I hesitated, a ripple of something unrecognizable coursing through me.

A collective silence fell over the group as they digested the information.

“Sounds like bullshit,” Joren finally broke the silence. “Stories and legends made up by people who were desperate as hell.”

“Maybe. But there’s always fact in legend. And the forest”—I felt the pull even now—“ischanging. It’s alive in a way I’ve never experienced before.”

“There have been so many changes recently,” Mia mused. “We’ve all noticed strange phenomena. I’ve even detected a subtle change in my herbal preparations, as if they’ve absorbed the intangible essence of something unseen.”

Hale reclined in his chair, his forehead furrowing in intense concentration. “I’ve heard of this prophecy,” he remarked, his voice tinged with skepticism. “Though I always believed it to be a fanciful story passed down through the ages.”

“I’ve never heard about it before. Do you know anything more?” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, and directed my full attention towards Hale.

Hale pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing as if he was mentally sifting through a vast library of words, trying to remember the right ones. “Although the exact wording escapes me, the prophecy refers to two shifters born under a particular moon phase, destined to bring about great change. As a symbol of their connection to the prophecy, these individuals will possess a distinctive birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon.”

I stilled. “Say that again.”

Hale looked at me. “Two shifters?—”

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