Chapter 1 The mark of midnight

Chapter One: The Mark of Midnight

The first time Mara Blackwood felt the pull of the moon, she thought it was just a dream.

She'd been restless for weeks, tossing and turning as shadows danced across her ceiling in the quiet town of Raven Hollow. Surrounded by dense forests and ancient whispers, the town clung to secrets like ivy to brick. At seventeen, Mara had grown used to strange things-bones buried in the woods, old women who spat when she passed, howling at night. But the dream was different.

In it, she stood under a bleeding red moon, barefoot in the snow, her breath fogging in the bitter air. Her body pulsed with an energy she couldn't name, her skin itching, her teeth aching. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears-then she heard something else.

A growl.

Low. Primal. Behind her.

She turned-

And woke up screaming.

"Mara!" Her aunt Clara burst into the room, robe flapping around her ankles. "What is it? What's wrong?"

But Mara couldn't answer. Her hands trembled. Her nightgown clung to her skin, soaked with sweat. There was a sharp pain in her shoulder, like she'd been bitten. Her fingers instinctively pressed into it. When she pulled them away, there was blood.

Clara's eyes widened.

"It's happening," she whispered, voice tight. "Too soon."

"What?" Mara gasped. "What's happening?"

But her aunt said nothing more. She just helped Mara up, her hands cold and shaking.

Raven Hollow didn't speak of werewolves. Not directly. They called them the cursed, and every child knew the stories-half-man, half-beast, stalking the woods under a full moon. Cursed by the sins of their bloodline. It was nonsense, the kind of thing bored villagers said to scare kids.

Except it wasn't nonsense to Clara.

The next morning, Mara sat at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of tea in front of her and a knot in her stomach.

"I should've told you sooner," Clara said, pacing. "Your mother wanted to wait, thought maybe it would skip you. It didn't."

"Skip me?" Mara frowned. "What do you mean?"

Clara stopped pacing. "The curse. Our family's bloodline-your mother, me, you-we carry it. It started generations ago, with a betrayal. A Blackwood fell in love with a creature of the forest. When the villagers found out, they killed him. She cursed them, cursed us. Now, every daughter in the line carries the mark."

"That's insane," Mara said. "You're saying I'm... cursed? That I'm going to turn into a-"

"Not just a werewolf," Clara said. "A marked one. The kind the forest watches."

Mara pushed back from the table, nearly knocking over the chair. "This is ridiculous."

But her shoulder still throbbed. She pulled her shirt down and looked in the mirror. There was no wound anymore-only a dark crescent mark, like a bite made of shadow.

Clara noticed. "The mark's appeared. That means you've been chosen."

"Chosen for what?"

"For the forest's judgment," Clara said. "The first full moon after the mark, you'll shift. And once you do, the forest will decide if you're meant to live... or be hunted."

The room spun. Mara gripped the counter to steady herself.

"There has to be a way to stop it," she said.

"There isn't. But you can prepare. You have two nights left."

"Two nights?" Mara whispered. "Before I turn into a monster?"

"You're not a monster," Clara said gently. "You're a Blackwood. And we survive."

That night, Mara went walking.

She didn't know why. Something in her blood itched for the trees, and her feet carried her past the village limits, into the tangle of pine and ash. The moon was thin, but it still lit the forest floor in a pale glow. Every sound seemed louder-branches creaking, owls hooting, the wind whispering her name.

Mara.

She paused. Had she imagined that?

Mara...

It came again, clearer this time, from deeper in the woods.

She followed the voice.

The air grew colder. The trees closer. And then she saw it.

A wolf.

Not a large one-but unlike any she'd seen before. Its fur shimmered silver-blue under the moonlight, and its eyes were the same violet as hers.

It didn't growl. It bowed its head.

And Mara-without knowing why-bowed back.

"You are not alone," a voice echoed in her mind, not human, not wolf, but somewhere in between.

The wolf turned and vanished into the trees.

Mara stood in the clearing, breathless. The wind no longer felt cruel. The forest, no longer foreign.

The change was coming.

But now, she wasn't so sure she was afraid.