Chapter 1 The Sickness Beneath The Moon

Chapter 1 - The Sickness Beneath the Moon

There was something wrong with the moon.

It hung low that night-bloated and red, a burning eye above the Thornveil woods-and Lyra Thornveil felt it watching her as she stood at the infirmary door, the smell of blood and lavender oil thick in her lungs.

Inside, the children screamed again.

Not all of them.

Just the ones who were still conscious.

Just the ones who hadn't stopped breathing yet.

She pressed her palm flat to the wood. It vibrated softly from the whimpering inside-seven pups, all under ten, curled in fevered heaps on cots that hadn't been used in years. Wolves didn't get sick. Not like this.

Not ever.

"Don't go in," said a voice behind her.

Lyra turned to see Elder Rowan, his grey robes stained and his eyes sunken. He hadn't slept. None of them had. The infirmary had been full for two days now.

"I can help," Lyra said quietly, even though she knew what he'd say.

"You can't," he answered. "You're not a healer. You're..."

He trailed off, like the word was too heavy to name.

You're the cursed one.

Everyone thought it. No one said it aloud anymore. Not since her mother died.

Lyra pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "It's spreading, isn't it?"

Rowan's jaw clenched. "The pups started seizing at midnight. Three elders collapsed. Two wolves shifted without warning and tore through the east gate. We had to sedate them with silver."

That stopped her breath.

Silver wasn't used unless wolves went rogue.

"Is it a plague?" she asked. "A spell? Witch-born?"

"We don't know. The healers say the blood won't clot. That the fevers don't break. The old ones are calling it..." He hesitated. "...Moon rot."

Moon rot. The word sounded like rot in her ears.

"What does that mean?"

Rowan shook his head. "It means the Moon Goddess has turned from us. And someone-" His eyes found hers, sharp and assessing, "-has brought darkness into our bloodline."

Lyra stiffened. "You think I did this?"

"You were born under a blood moon," he said simply, as if that explained everything. "A child of broken fate. You were never meant to shift. You were never meant to survive. You... changed the pattern."

Her stomach twisted. "I didn't ask to be born."

"No, but your blood is old. Older than even you understand. And when old blood stirs, curses wake."

Lyra bit her tongue until she tasted iron. She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or shift and run until the sky disappeared behind her.

But she did none of those things.

Because the pups were still screaming. Because something was happening to their pack. And because behind all the talk of curses and fate and bloodlines, she could feel something else-

Something ancient.

Something wrong.

Her bones ached like they knew it. Her blood buzzed.

She had dreamt of fire the night before. Wolves made of shadow. Red moonlight dripping down her arms like ink.

And a voice she couldn't place whispering, "He will come for you."

Lyra clenched her fists. "What do the Elders want to do?"

Rowan hesitated. "They've called for a bond."

Her breath stilled. "A bond?"

"A trade," he said carefully. "A marriage bond. To the Alpha of Blackthorn."

That name landed like a death sentence.

Alpha Draven Blackthorn. The cursed Alpha. The Touchless King. The beast who ruled the dead forest pack that no one spoke of unless they were burying bodies.

Lyra blinked. "That's madness."

"He offered peace. Immunity for our sick. A cure. He has ancient blood. He has magic."

"And the price?" she asked.

Rowan met her gaze. "You. As his bride."

For a moment, all she heard was the screaming.

The cracking of bone in the cells beyond the infirmary. The howling of wolves losing themselves. Children convulsing. Mothers sobbing.

Lyra touched her chest. Her heartbeat didn't feel like her own anymore. It felt like it belonged to something bigger. Something pulling her toward a man she'd never met-and a fate that smelled like smoke and ruin.

She whispered, "And if I refuse?"

Rowan looked away. "Then they all die."