Chapter 1 Whispers Under the Blood Moon

Kaela's POV

The dream came again.

Same crimson moon. Same cold hands dragging me under.

The first morning air caused my immediate gasp as beads of sweat soaked my body. The early day temperature remained cold even as I rose from the bed. Air of the Wind Kingdom's highlands. The grip of my hands tried to squeeze my throat while they remembered swimming movements. My chest feels the residual effect of swallowing water inside my dream. Lungs. A mere vision was all it turned out to be as I refused to believe it happened. For the thousandth time. Just a dream-but dreams don't leave bruises. Not ones like the silverly mark beneath my collarbone that pulsed when I was afraid.

The mark I never told anyone about.

I rose from the straw mattress to clean the dust from my basic cotton clothing. Light passed through the wooden window shutters to create golden patches in the small room where Mother Elya and I lived together in the village. The pulse of my heart continued while the aromas of crushed medicine leaves and warm baking mix helped me regain my composure. This was my life. Simple. Safe. Quit.

At least, it had been-until the dreams started two moons ago.

"Kaela!" Mother Elya's voice filtered through the doorway. "I need your hands on the salves. The merchant's boy took a spill."

"Coming!" I called back, smoothing my hair and wrapping my shawl tighter around me. I tried to ignore the itch of the mark on my skin, the way it thrummed every time I was near someone injured. Like a pulse that didn't belong to me.

By mid-morning, I was bent over the boy's ankle, gently applying a balm of mountain root and sage. He winced but didn't cry. I whispered calming words like Elya taught me, but something inside me stirred.

I could heal him. I didn't need the balm.

The thought hit me like a whisper from somewhere else-deep, ancient, wrong. Dangerous.

I swallowed hard and kept working with the herbs instead. I wasn't like the Spirit-bearers of old. Those people were myths, stories whispered to children on long winter nights. People who glowed with power were born under the Moon's blessing. The Spirit Princess-the Moon Shard-they said she vanished twenty years ago.

I was just Kaela. Nobody. Found half-dead in the forest at age five. Raised by a healer. No past, no future.

Except... something changed that day.

That evening, a stranger staggered into the village. Bloodied. Barely conscious. His cloak was scorched; one arm twisted at a sickening angle. The villagers gathered, fearful, whispering that a battle had broken out in the north.

"He needs a real healer," Elya muttered, her hands trembling. "This is beyond my skill."

Before I knew it, I stepped forward, heart pounding, palms tingling with a strange light. I pressed my hands against his chest. I didn't even know why-I just knew I had to.

The light poured from me like water breaking a dam.

The wound closed.

Gasps. Whispers. Someone cried "Spirit magic!" and the world tilted beneath me.

I collapsed.

When I woke up, the stranger was gone, Elya looked afraid of me, and I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

Somewhere far away, a prince with fire in his blood would soon see a vision of my face glowing with power.

And he would come for me.