Chapter 4 : Shadows Beneath the Moon
Aria’s eyes fluttered open to the muted glow of early morning spilling through her apartment blinds. Her chest rose and fell in quick, uneven gasps. The dream—or memory—had returned, vivid and haunting. Wolves slinking through fogged alleyways, silver eyes reflecting a moon she had never seen before, and that voice—soft, insistent, and commanding—whispering: “Find me before the moon forgets your name.” Her fingers itched, as though the memory of a mark burned still on her skin, but in the light of dawn it was gone.
The apartment, usually a sanctuary from the world, felt stifling today. Walls that had always seemed familiar now loomed close, the shadows of corners too long, too sharp. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she shook off the remnants of sleep, recalling her parents’ warnings from the night before, urgent and heavy with unspoken truths. “There are things you are not ready for, Aria. Some truths must wait… until you are ready.”
The ritual of her morning routine—boiling coffee, brushing her teeth, skimming through the news—brought little comfort. Even the air seemed charged with a tension she couldn’t name. Stepping to the window, she squinted at the alley below. Fog lingered unnaturally, twisting and curling as if hiding shapes that darted too fast to be human. She blinked. Nothing. Just the city waking, oblivious to the stirrings of a world she had barely begun to glimpse.
By mid-morning, Aria’s unease had turned into a restless energy she couldn’t shake. At the museum, she moved through her tasks with mechanical precision, her fingers tracing the edges of glass display cases housing relics older than most civilizations. Ancient sigils etched into their surfaces hummed faintly, resonating with a part of her she barely understood. Each step, each careful adjustment of artifacts, reminded her that she was tied to a history far larger than herself—history that had been hidden from her for a reason.
The hum of the building’s ventilation, the occasional footsteps of visitors, even the creak of a door—it all faded the moment the air shifted behind her. She froze. The hairs along her neck stood on end, and her stomach twisted as if a predator stalked too close.
“Aria.”
Her heart skipped. She turned, and there he was: Kael Draven, standing in the doorway like a living shadow. His eyes—shifting silver and amber, liquid and dangerous—locked onto hers. He had always been more than human, but seeing him in the flesh, here, was… overwhelming. His presence radiated a magnetic intensity, pulling something deep inside her awake.
“Kael…” The name barely escaped her lips. The shock of seeing him now made the air itself seem heavier.
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said, voice low, commanding, carrying the weight of someone accustomed to authority. “I warned you. Danger doesn’t wait for permission.”
Her pulse accelerated. “I—I’m fine. Just… dreams again. Wolves, moons… I don’t—” She faltered, trying to articulate sensations that were beyond explanation. The pull she felt toward him, raw and feral, made her stomach twist.
Kael’s gaze sharpened. He stepped closer, the air thick with a tension she could feel pulsing through her veins. “They are not dreams. They are blood calling to you. You are awakening.”
“Awakening?” Aria’s throat tightened. Her parents had hinted, warned, but never used words like this. “I don’t understand. What… what am I supposed to be?”
“You are the Lost Luna, Aria Vale,” Kael said, his eyes softening briefly, though the intensity never left them. “And you carry a power that some would kill to claim.”
Her mind reeled. “I… I thought I was normal. I—” The world she had known seemed to collapse around her. “Why didn’t my parents tell me?”
“They tried,” Kael said, gaze flicking to the shadows of the room. “They’ve done everything to protect you. But the blood remembers what the mind forgets. You are destined for something far greater than the life you have known. And there are those who would see that life—and you—destroyed.”
A chill ran through her, recalling the sensation from the night before: molten shadows, eyes like embers. “The creature… it wasn’t human,” she whispered.
“No,” Kael replied, jaw tightening. “And it wasn’t alone. It’s coming for you again. For both of us, if I fail.” He closed the distance between them, the energy between them taut and alive. “You need to learn control. You need to awaken fully, and you need to trust me.”
Trust. Her instincts screamed to run, but something primal inside her stirred, responding to him like the pull of the moon on tides. Something long sealed, long hidden, whispered through her veins.
Before she could respond, the museum doors slammed open with a violent crash. Figures in black moved with unnatural speed, like shadows given form. Aria’s stomach dropped. Run or fight—she didn’t know which came first. Kael’s stance shifted, taut as a coiled wolf.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered. Aria felt a pulse through her blood, a strange resonance. Fear, focus, adrenaline—they coalesced into something raw and alive. Without understanding how, her hands moved, releasing shadows that twisted like smoke, striking the intruders. They screamed, staggered, and fell back—but more surged forward, relentless.
Kael’s hand hovered near hers. “You can fight. Control it.”
Instinct took over. Shadows obeyed her, coiling and striking. One attacker lunged at Kael; a silver bolt shot from her palm, striking him true, sending him through a display case. Glass shattered, falling around him, yet he rose, unharmed, his silver eyes locking onto hers with awe and warning.
Then it happened. A scream—piercing, unnatural, in her mind—shook her to the core. Not hers, but somehow hers too. Kael’s grip tightened on her shoulder. “It’s trying to bond with you. Don’t let it take control.”
She shook her head, forcing her mind to focus. Shadows retreated, and the attackers vanished into thin air, leaving an eerie silence behind. Her heart pounded; her hands shook. Kael approached, his gaze intense. “This is only the beginning. Others will come. One day, they won’t vanish so easily.”
Aria’s chest ached, part fear, part exhilaration. Everything she had known—her life, her sense of safety—had been ripped away. She was not just Aria Vale, archivist, human—she was the Lost Luna, and her awakening had begun.
Kael turned toward the exit but paused, looking back at her. “Decide, Aria. Will you embrace who you are, or let the blood decide?”
She watched him go, a tempest of emotions swirling inside her. Her pulse thrummed in tandem with something feral, something alive in her blood. Then her eyes fell to the shattered display cases. Amid the shards lay a single silver feather, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Trembling, she picked it up, feeling the raw, thrumming energy coursing through it.
A low, guttural growl echoed from deep beneath the museum. Her breath caught. The shadows shifted unnaturally, and the feather pulsed faster. Wolves. Howling not in dreams, but in the dark, hidden passages beneath the city.
Aria realized with a shock that her life had irreversibly changed. The Lost Luna had awakened, and something ancient, powerful, and hungry was coming for her.