Chapter 65 THE CALL OF THE WOODS
My voice cracks.
“Because I choose you every time. And choosing you would mean letting the world burn.”
His shoulders slump like I’ve stabbed him.
The mark on my chest burns bright and urgent. The forest calls with a low, thrumming hum, vibrating through my bones.
I wipe my tears and take another step away.
Damien’s face twists. “Please, Selene, don’t—”
“Don’t follow me,” I whisper.
The wind rises, swirling around me. Leaves lift off the ground as though pulled by invisible strings. The first branches of the Shadow Woods stretch toward me, offering, welcoming, beckoning.
I look at him one last time.
“I was never meant to survive this, Damien.”
A tear slips down my cheek.
“But you were.”
He shakes his head violently. “No. No. No—!”
“I love you,” I choke out. “That’s why I have to go.”
The shadows surge around my feet.
The forest opens like a mouth.
And before Damien can reach me, the ground tilts and I am swallowed whole.
His scream follows me into the dark.
The forest swallows me whole.
The ground shifts beneath my feet the moment darkness embraces me, as if the earth exhales and sinks just enough to remind me that I no longer belong to the world behind me. The air changes instantly. It becomes thick, rich, humming with life and death and everything in between. The scent of damp moss curls around my tongue, sweet and bitter at once, and the temperature drops so sharply that my breath becomes pale threads in the moonlight.
Or what’s left of the moonlight.
Here, the moon does not shine down from above.
Here, the moon rises from within.
The Shadow Woods glow from the inside outward, pulsing with a soft bioluminescence beneath the bark of every tree. Silver veins streak upward like constellations frozen in wood. The branches creak—not from wind, but from awareness.
The forest is alive.
And it knows me.
The hairs rise along the back of my neck. My heart pounds painfully, but my feet keep moving, guided by something deeper than instinct. My wolf presses forward inside my mind, tail low, ears flattened not in fear, but reverence.
We are home, she whispers.
My breath stutters.
Home?
No.
No, this place, this ancient, breathing labyrinth cannot be home.
And yet… I feel it.
A pull under my ribs.
A pressure along my spine.
A voice humming inside my blood like a lullaby made of sorrow.
The call grows stronger with each step.
Branches arch above me in a cathedral of tangled beauty. Dew glitters like crushed diamonds on the leaves. Strange moths with wings like stained glass flutter around me, shedding trails of shimmering powder that dust my skin with phantom constellations.
I reach out and brush one gently with my fingertips. It dissolves into glowing dust.
My breath catches. “What…”
Something rustles behind me.
I spin but nothing moves. Only the trees stand tall and ancient, their silver-veined trunks reflecting their own light. The forest breathes, a slow inward pull, then a long, soft sigh.
I walk deeper.
With every step, the world behind me feels further away. The air thickens almost drinkable. My lungs ache with its sweetness.
The Moonfire inside me stirs.
It curls up my spine like a serpent waking from hibernation, tasting the air, tasting this place. It presses against my ribs, eager, restless, as if it recognizes something I don’t.
“Calm,” I whisper under my breath. “Not yet.”
The power hums in defiance.
A low vibration rolls through the ground, almost like a heartbeat.
No—two heartbeats.
Mine.
And something ancient.
Something watching.
“Selene.”
The whisper threads through the trees like smoke. My blood freezes. I spin again, heart slamming into my ribs.
“Damien?” I breathe, even though I know it’s impossible.
But it isn’t Damien’s voice. Nor Kael’s. Nor any wolf’s.
It’s feminine.
Soft.
Older than the world.
A chill slides down my spine.
“Show yourself,” I call out, my voice too thin, too fragile.
The forest answers.
A wind stirs without moving air. Leaves lift and swirl around me in a slow, spiraling dance. The bioluminescent veins in the trees brighten, illuminating the clearing that opens ahead of me as if the woods part themselves to reveal a secret kept hidden for centuries.
My feet move on their own.
The clearing is circular—perfectly, unnaturally so. The ground here glows with a faint, silver shimmer, like moonlight trapped beneath the soil. In the center lies a pool of water so still it reflects the sky like polished glass.
But the sky reflected in it isn’t the same one above me.
In the pool, the moon is full even though I know tonight it is not.
My heart stutters.
Something steps across the water.
Light.
A woman-shaped silhouette made of pure, quivering moonlight.
The Moon Goddess.
My breath leaves my body in a violent exhale. My knees buckle, and I drop onto them without meaning to. The weight of her presence presses down on my shoulders like an invisible hand, warm and suffocating at once.
“Rise, little flame,” she murmurs.
Her voice is layered young and ancient, kind and merciless. I push myself shakily to my feet. Her form crystallizes as she approaches: hair cascading in waves of molten silver, eyes pale as dying stars, a body woven from light and longing.
She looks like every prayer I ever whispered… and every nightmare those prayers warned me about.
I swallow hard. “Why did you bring me here?”
She watches me with a sadness so deep it cracks something inside my chest.
“You came because you had no other place left to go.”
The truth stings.
“I didn’t come for you,” I whisper.
“I know,” she says. “You came to stop yourself from destroying the ones you love.”
I flinch.
The Moonfire inside me surges as if reacting to her presence. My veins glow faintly through my skin.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of your power,” she says softly.
“I’m not afraid of the power.”
I lift my gaze.
“I’m afraid of what I become when I lose it.”
Her expression shifts into compassion layered over grief.
“I gave you Moonfire,” she says, “because you were already breaking. You were the only vessel cracked enough to let the divine seep through.”
My breath catches. “I don’t want to be a vessel.”
“You want love.”
Her voice is a caress.
“You want peace. A life of simple joys. A heart that doesn’t ache beneath prophecy.”
My eyes burn. “Yes.”
“You will have none of those,” she whispers, “until you carry what must be carried.”
I shake my head. “I’m not strong enough.”
“You are not meant to be strong.”
Her voice lowers.
“You are meant to endure.”
Something inside me splinters.
“What will happen to me?” I whisper.
Her gaze travels over my face, lingering on the silver mark pulsing beneath my skin.