Chapter 2 The Mark Appears

The world beyond the small-town existence of Elara Moonstone was like a wound, a memory where there was nothing but sorrow-raw, alive, bleeding and oozing secrets to which she didn't have a name.

She sat beside the driver in a shiny black car, its engine a soft rumble in contrast to the silence between her and the man who'd rescued her from the very brink of mortality. The man who'd assumed the role of her guardian.

Kael Thorne drove as if he didn't require roads at all. Like he had memorised the Earth's skeleton. The forest passed in brushstrokes of silver, trees curving under the body of the moon. His silhouette was all lines and shadows, and his eyes-good gods, his eyes-seized the light like something out of another realm.

Because he wasn't. No longer.

Elara pressed her shaking hands into her lap. Her sweat-soaked and forest-dewy hoodie stuck to her like a second skin. The mark under it pulsed with heat in tune with the rhythm of Kael's proximity. As if it recognised him.

As it recalls, like it remembers.

She finally spoke. "What the hell was that in the back?"

Her voice was cracked and dry and unused, not her own.

Kael didn't glance at her. "A test."

Elara blinked. "A test? I nearly died."

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "And yet, you didn't."

Frustration burst forth, dispelling the fog of fear. "Serious? I was stalked, run through the forest by creatures with eyes that glowed like hot coals-and you're saying I passed some sort of test?"

Kael breathed out as if he'd just aged ten years in one second. "They weren't monsters. They were trackers. Sent to verify what you are."

She gulped. "And what am I?"

At last, he looked at her. His eyes struck like a blow.

A Lycan. At least partially.

Her breath was caught. "Like a werewolf?"

"No." His tone was quick, definitive. "The tales got it wrong. We predate the myths. We're stronger than the legends. We don't transform with the moon. We bear it. We don't howl-we hunt. We don't lose ourselves. We become something more."

She shook her head. "No. I am not. that. I am just me. Invisible girl. Foster kid. I get mocked in the hallways. I never have been in a fight-"

Kael spun all the way around, and for one instant, the world beyond the windshield ceased to exist. His voice was deep, deadly, and charged with something primal.

"You glowed when they touched you. As if the moon spilled into your veins. That mark is your inheritance, waking up. You're not just anything, Elara. You're the blood of something great. And now, the rest of them know it too."

The vehicle swung off the highway, tires crunching on gravel as they passed under a canopy of twisted trees. The road was obscured, engulfed by mist and silence, before it emerged into a clearing at the edge is a black glass lake.

A cabin stood there-a dark wood, stone chimney, and flickering lanterns of amber light. Like something drawn from some ancient dream. Or nightmare.

Kael pulled over. "We're safe. For now

Elara emerged slowly, her legs weighed down, each bruise and pain reminding her that today had destroyed all that she believed. Yet something else churned within her-curiosity, cutting, sharp, clawing and biting.

Inside, the cabin was plain but odd. A roaring fire in the hearth awaited, already lit. Lights were missing, but the shadows danced like they belonged here. Kael threw her a towel and a water bottle.

"Shower. The mark will subside when your blood ceases screaming."

She picked it up clumsily. "You've seen it before?"

His jaw clenched. "Once."

Elara hesitated. "Who?"

His eyes locked, gentler than they had been before. "Your mother."

Her breath escaped from her lungs.

"My mother is dead," she whispered.

Kael nodded. "Yes. But first, she insisted that I promise to take care of you. Even if you forget who you really are."

She walked away from him before he could catch the shaking in her hands. She entered the bathroom, locked the door, and leaned back into the door, her breathing husky and ragged.

She stripped off the hoodie, the shirt under it. The mark remained, still glowed-crescent moon, cut in half by a sharp and a perfect line. It wasn't ink. It wasn't scar. It glowed with light and heat and memory.

She touched it.

And the world erupted.

Visions burst through her mind

A woman who screamed, enveloped and cloaked in blood and moonlight.

Wolves encircling a charred throne. Flames falling from a torn-open.

Her face-but older, harder, silver-topped and seared with wrath.

Elara fell to her knees, panting. Tears that she didn't know she was crying streamed down her face.

The visions disappeared.

Silence returned.

She dragged herself to the mirror and gazed into her own wide, haunted eyes. Her voice broke.

Who are you?

A knock.

Kael's voice, but muffled and clear at the same time. "It's beginning, you're waking up."

She slowly opened the door.

He remained there like a tempest locked within flesh and armour.

She demanded to know, her voice firming despite her terror.

"What happens now?" she asked

Kael gazed at her, not as a protector. Not even as a soldier.

As if viewing prophecy on human skin.

"Now," he told her, "we train. And we run. Because every beast in the hidden world recognises your blood. And some will kill to make you forget the rest."

Elara's fingers touched the mark once more. This time, it did not burn.

It vibrated.

It thrummed.

And she comprehended.

"I want to remember," she told them. "Everything."

Kael's smile was grim and reverent.

"So prepare yourself, Moonstone. Because the world in which your people dwell? It's not holding back." It's hunting.