Chapter 3 The Hidden Mark

The air in Aria's room was thick with silence, the kind that wrapped itself around her like a second skin. She sat up in bed, heart thundering, her sheets twisted and damp with sweat. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting long, silver bars across her floor. For a moment, she thought she'd heard a voice calling her name-soft, ancient, mournful-but the room was empty. Still.

Then came the pain.

Sharp and sudden, it seared across her right shoulder, hot like a brand. Aria cried out, clutching at the spot beneath her shirt. Her fingers brushed skin that felt raised, burning. She threw off the covers and ran to the mirror.

With trembling hands, she pulled her shirt down to expose her shoulder. And there it was.

A mark.

A crescent.

Thin as a knife's edge, etched into her skin just above the blade of her shoulder. The flesh around it was flushed, faintly glowing, pulsing with each beat of her heart. She touched it gently, and her vision wavered-flashes of trees, blood, fire, and eyes like sunset behind clouds.

She stumbled back, breath catching.

"What the hell is happening to me?"

At breakfast, she wore a hoodie despite the heat. Her mother noticed.

"You're hiding something," she said.

"I'm just tired."

"You've been saying that for days. Is this about the woods?"

Aria hesitated. "Do you believe in... things? Legends?"

Her mother froze mid-sip of coffee.

"What kind of legends?"

"You know. Wolves. Monsters. Shifters."

A beat. Too long.

"There are stories," her mother said carefully. "But stories are just ways for people to explain what they don't understand."

Aria nodded but didn't believe her.

Not anymore.

She didn't go to school. Instead, she found herself drawn back to the woods, the scar on her shoulder still pulsing beneath her clothes like a heartbeat.

The fog welcomed her.

And so did Luca.

He stood where she'd first seen him, hands in his pockets, waiting like he knew she would come.

"You felt it," he said, not asked.

She nodded, silent.

He walked toward her, eyes locked on hers, expression solemn. "Let me see."

Aria hesitated. Then, slowly, she tugged down her hoodie. The moment the scar caught the light, Luca's breath caught.

"Moonblood," he whispered.

Her heart lurched. "What?"

He circled her slowly, eyes fixed on the mark. "It's not just a sign. It's a calling. You're awakening."

"To what?" she snapped. "Some werewolf fantasy?"

"This isn't fantasy, Aria. You've always been one of us. Hidden. Bound. But something's changed. The seal is breaking."

She crossed her arms. "This is insane."

"Then why is it burning?" he asked gently.

She didn't answer.

They walked deeper into the woods.

Luca led her to a grove she'd never seen before. The trees were ancient, bent like they were bowing, and at their center stood a stone altar covered in moss. Strange carvings spiraled across its surface-moons, claws, eyes.

"This is where your bloodline began," he said. "The Moonblood are descended from the first of us. Wolves with both the strength of beasts and the sight of prophets."

"I'm not a prophet. I'm not even brave."

"But you're chosen. The mark proves it."

She stared at the altar. Her hands tingle. Her shoulder burned. And in her mind, a howl rose-not of fear, but of recognition.

That night, her dreams deepened.

She stood in the same groove under a blood-red moon. Fire crackled in the distance. Shadows danced around her, voices chanting in a language she didn't know-but understood.

She looked down.

Her hands were claws.

And her eyes burned gold.

She woke up screaming.

And the mark on her shoulder glowed in the dark.

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