Moonlight promised

The stars above Valedusk Hollow shimmered like spilled salt, but they offered no guidance tonight.

Marielle Wynter stood at the edge of the ceremonial stone terrace, her silken gown clinging to her like a second skin. The silver thread woven into the fabric caught the moonlight, marking her as the chosen bride of House Draven.

She didn't feel chosen. She felt bought.

Below her, nobles milled in the courtyard, cloaked in fine furs and empty smiles. Somewhere among them stood Kael Draven-her betrothed. Stoic. Perfect. Unmoved by anything but duty.

Mari's fingers curled over the carved banister. Her throat ached with the weight of a scream she couldn't release.

"They've bound the moon to lie," a voice murmured behind her.

She turned sharply.

Liora Bray stepped from the shadows, her red curls tangled, her eyes wild with starlit visions. "Mari," she whispered. "Something's wrong. You're not meant to be his."

Mari didn't answer. Couldn't. The words pressed against her ribs, but the silence had been trained into her. Proper Wynter daughters didn't disobey the Tribunal.

"I saw it," Liora went on, breath quickening. "A shadow cleaving your mate mark. Blood wasn't meant to bind you. Stars were."

Mari looked down at her wrist-the mark etched there was elegant, deliberate. The sigil of House Draven. It had appeared the morning she turned eighteen, and the Moon Tribunal confirmed it with solemn nods.

But she'd felt nothing. Not the rush of soul-recognition. Not the searing burn of love. Just... cold.

"You saw this in your dreams?" Mari asked, voice trembling.

"I see *you*," Liora whispered. "The real you. With fire behind your ribs and someone else's name in your blood."

A sharp burst of wind tore through the terrace, carrying with it the scent of pine smoke and storm.

And something else.

Something *feral*.

Mari's breath caught.

She turned her head toward the edge of the Hollow-the trees swaying at the border, the dark beyond pulsing like a heartbeat. A figure stood just beyond the tree line. Tall. Still. Watching.

Liora grabbed her wrist. "That's him."

Mari's pulse hammered. "Who?"

"Thorne Everen. The one the Tribunal erased."

Mari blinked. The name stirred something in her bones. A dream half-remembered. Warmth in the dark. A whisper that didn't belong to any memory she knew.

She looked again.

But the figure was gone.

---

The feast hall burned with golden firelight. Mari sat beside Kael at the high table, her face schooled into calm. He hadn't touched her once. Not her hand. Not her eyes.

"I received a letter from Elder Corvin," Kael said quietly, not looking at her. "He expects we'll announce the official bond next full moon."

Mari nodded, throat tight.

Kael's voice was even, strategic. "I know this isn't what you dreamed of. But the union will strengthen both houses. That's more important than... whatever you might've hoped for."

He wasn't cruel. Just distant. Like she was a puzzle piece that fit somewhere useful.

And somewhere across the room, Elder Corvin Marell raised his goblet to her, smiling thin as a blade.

Mari's fingers clenched around her wineglass.

From behind her, the doors slammed open.

Gasps rippled through the room.

A man walked in-no noble silks, no crest of allegiance. Just leather, fur, and storm-shadow in his step.

Mari rose, heart screaming.

Thorne Everen.

His eyes swept the room. Gold-flecked. Dangerous.

They landed on her.

And everything inside her *snapped*.

Not with fear.

With *recognition*.

---

Later, she found him in the gardens, standing in the shadows between moonflowers and blackthorn.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered, but her feet kept moving toward him.

His voice was low, rough. "They told me I didn't exist."

She flinched.

"I thought I'd lost my mind," he went on. "The dreams. The mark that burned and vanished. The ache. For *you*."

Mari's mouth trembled. "You... remember me?"

"I never forgot."

And then he stepped forward, took her hand.

It scorched.

A pulse roared through her skin. A memory not her own: lips brushing her brow. A voice saying *mine*. Stars splitting open.

Her knees gave out.

Thorne caught her.

"You feel it," he said, voice breaking. "They tried to strip it from you. But it's still there."

Mari stared up at him, dazed. "What is this?"

He swallowed. "The bond. Ours. It was real once. They broke it."

"They *can't* break a bond," she whispered.

"Not break. Suppress."

Her blood turned to ice.

"Why?" she breathed.

"Because your father," Thorne said slowly, "and Corvin Marell-*chose* Kael. And erased *me*."

---

Back at the estate, Althea Wynter stood in the shadows of her garden, watching the moon rise above the treeline. Her shawl trembled in the wind.

"He's returned," said a voice behind her.

She didn't turn.

Lucan Wynter stepped beside her. "You knew this would happen."

"I prayed it would," Althea said quietly.

Lucan's face twisted. "You'd have her risk our future for some *ghost* of a bond?"

"He was never a ghost," Althea whispered. "Only buried."

"Do you think she'll choose him?"

"She already has," Althea said. "She just hasn't said it aloud yet."

---

In a secret chamber beneath the Tribunal hall, Evelyn Marell lit a candle beside a cracked sigil scroll. Her fingers were stained with ink, with secrets.

"She saw him," Liora said, pacing.

Evelyn nodded. "Then the spell is failing. Faster than I thought."

Liora stopped. "Can we undo it?"

Evelyn's voice was steady. "We can reveal the truth. But it will cost her everything."

Liora swallowed. "Then we do it anyway."

---

At the Draven manor, Caspian watched the stars with narrowed eyes. Kael stood at his side, silent.

"You saw how she looked at him," Caspian said.

Kael didn't respond.

"Do not mistake stillness for surrender," Caspian warned. "You *will* marry her. You *will* bind the power of the Wynters to this house. And if Everen becomes a problem-"

"I'll handle it," Kael said quietly.

Caspian smiled. "Good. Because the next moon rises soon. And blood always washes out the truth."

---

Mari stood alone at her window.

Her fingers touched the mark on her wrist-the Draven sigil.

But now, faint beneath it, another shimmered to life. An older one. Worn. *Burning.*

The mark of the Moonline.

Her true bond.

Her reflection shimmered in the glass.

And behind it, a shadow moved.

She turned.

The window slammed shut.

And the candles died.