Chapter 5 Moonlit Secrets

Elara's POV

The village square always carried whispers, but that evening the voices seemed sharper, cutting through the cool air like blades. Lanterns glowed dimly against the dusk, their flames sputtering as though the night itself sought to smother them. I walked with my basket pressed tight to my chest, my gaze lowered, though every step made me feel the weight of unseen eyes.

Something had shifted after the night in the woods. Since I glimpsed him. Since I saw the figure cloaked in darkness-the Alpha of Bloodmoon Hollow. His shadow lingered in my mind, dangerous and magnetic, as if the very earth remembered his presence.

Old Maren, who sold herbs and bones by the fountain, spat over her shoulder as I passed. "Mark my words," she muttered to another villager, loud enough for me to hear, "the Alpha's curse spreads when the priestess blood stirs. Watch the girl with the haunted eyes."

My steps faltered. I did not need to ask who she meant.

I quickened my pace, pushing past the square until the houses thinned and the forest's edge loomed ahead. The trees stood tall, draped in fog, as if waiting for me. For days now, claw marks had appeared near the cottages-long slashes across doors, wood splintered deep. The elders called them warnings. Some whispered that they were messages, not from wolves, but from something older. Something bound to me.

At night, the whispers in the woods grew louder. The howls no longer sounded like beasts-they carried words my blood seemed to understand.

I told myself to stay away. Yet as the moon climbed high above the treeline, I found my steps pulling me deeper into the shadows.

The forest welcomed me with silence, save for the rustle of branches. I brushed my fingers against a scarred tree trunk, tracing the claw marks carved into its bark. A tremor raced through me, not fear exactly, but something stranger. The marks pulsed beneath my fingertips like echoes of a heartbeat.

"Elara."

The sound of my name nearly broke me. It came from the shadows, low and sharp. I spun, the basket falling from my arms, its contents spilling across the ground.

He stepped forward, moonlight catching the edges of his form. The Alpha.

Kalen.

Even from a distance, his presence pressed against me, suffocating and magnetic at once. His eyes caught the silver glow, gleaming not entirely human. A predator. A secret wrapped in skin.

"You should not wander here." His voice was rough, weighted with something more than command.

I forced myself to hold his gaze. "And yet you follow me."

The words slipped out before I could bite them back. My pulse hammered, fear and defiance mingling inside me.

His jaw clenched, a shadow passing over his face. "You do not understand the danger you walk toward."

"Then tell me." My voice trembled, but I stood firm. "What curse binds this place? Why do the villagers look at me as if I carry death in my shadow?"

For a moment, silence stretched, filled only by the distant cry of an owl. He took a slow step closer, and though my body screamed to retreat, my feet rooted to the soil.

"It is not the forest you should fear, Elara," he said at last, his tone softer now, almost reluctant. "It is the blood in your veins."

My breath caught. "What do you mean?"

His eyes darkened, wolf lurking behind them. "Your blood stirs old power. Priestess blood. The same blood that once bound and betrayed my kind."

I shook my head, my heart stumbling. "That is impossible. I am no priestess."

"You are," he said, his voice low, final. "And that truth may condemn us both."

The world tilted around me. I gripped the edge of a tree to steady myself, the bark rough under my palm. Priestess blood? I had never heard my family speak of such a thing. My mother was gone, my father silent, the villagers filled with nothing but half-truths and suspicion.

Yet when I looked at him, I felt something deep within me stir. As if the earth beneath us remembered a bond I could not name.

Kalen took another step forward, close enough now that I could feel the pull of his presence, heavy as gravity. "Stay away from me, Elara. For your sake. For mine."

But his voice betrayed him. Behind the warning, behind the command, was something raw. Something tethered.

Before I could reply, a howl tore through the forest. Not the call of a wolf, but something deeper, darker, a sound that clawed into the marrow of my bones.

Kalen's head snapped toward the sound, his eyes burning with sudden fury.

"They are coming," he said, his voice rough with urgency. "Stay hidden. Do not follow."

With that, he shifted into motion, swift as shadow, vanishing into the trees.

I stood frozen, the basket forgotten at my feet, my breath shallow. The night pressed closer, the trees trembling as if they too sensed the approach of something monstrous.

The howl came again, nearer this time. My blood hummed in my veins, the strange claw marks glowing faintly on the bark before me as if alive.

I pressed my hand against them, and the world shuddered. For a heartbeat, I swore the forest whispered my name.

"Elara..."

I tore my hand back, stumbling. Fear and curiosity warred within me, but one thing was certain. The secrets of Bloodmoon Hollow were far from done with me.

And if Kalen was right-if my blood carried the curse-then the night would not let me go without a fight.

The forest itself whispers Elara's name as strange forces close in, hinting her bloodline is more dangerous than she ever imagined.

Elara's heart pounded as the whispers faded into silence, leaving only the thrum of her pulse in her ears. She stepped back from the crumbling wall of the chapel, dust clinging to her skirts, her breath uneven. The villagers' murmurs about priestess bloodlines refused to leave her mind. Could it be true? Could her family's past be tied to the curse that haunted Bloodmoon Hollow?

The wind stirred the forest edge, carrying with it the scent of pine and something darker-something that made her skin prickle. She clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders, fighting the urge to run. That was when she saw it. Just beyond the last gravestone, half-hidden in shadow, claw marks carved deep into the stone earth. Fresh.

Her breath hitched. She was not alone.

The trees swayed, and from between their trunks came the faintest sound-low, deliberate, a growl that vibrated in her bones. Every instinct screamed for her to flee, but her feet rooted to the ground.

Then, from the darkness, a pair of eyes glowed-amber, unblinking, fixed solely on her.