Chapter 7 : The Pull of the Moon
Aria woke with the faintest echo of a howl threading through her breath, fading as quickly as the dawn light stretching across her bedroom wall. For a moment, she lay perfectly still, listening—nothing but the hum of the city. No forests. No beasts. No silver moon glaring through the sky. Yet something inside her was thrumming—slow, deliberate, pressing against the inside of her ribcage as if trying to claw its way out.
She pressed a hand to her sternum, inhaled, exhaled. Calm. She needed calm.
Except calm had become impossible since the night she met him.
Kael Draven.
His name alone sent a shiver coursing down her spine. She barely remembered parts of that night clearly—only fragments: his eyes catching hers across the street, the animalistic tension in his posture, the way the air thickened between them like something ancient had recognised something buried within her. She hadn’t wanted to feel anything. But she did. And she hated that she did.
Her phone buzzed.
Cassian.
“Morning. Come to the archives before work. Something you should see.”
She stared at the screen. Cassian rarely sounded urgent. With him, everything was measured, deliberate, wrapped in that unshakeable calm of a mentor that had followed her since she was a child. If he said “something you should see,” it meant it mattered.
Aria got dressed quickly, nerves twisting with every movement. She pulled on a coat, locked the flat behind her, and stepped into the crisp morning air.
The walk to the museum was familiar, grounding. People rushed past with coffees, phones, scarves tugged up to their ears. Normal life. Human life. The life she had always known.
But now, every sound felt sharper. Every scent is too strong. Every heartbeat on the street is almost audible under her skin.
She rubbed her temple.
What’s happening to me?
When she stepped inside the archives, Cassian was already waiting near the back, flipping through a leather-bound journal. His dark eyes lifted as she approached.
“You look pale,” he noted, voice softened. “Another… episode?”
“It wasn’t an episode,” she argued gently. “Just—dreams.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened. “Dreams have meanings, Aria.”
“Yes, but you’ve been telling me that since I was fourteen.” She attempted a smile. “Maybe I’m just stressed.”
Cassian didn’t return the smile. He gestured for her to sit.
“Aria… things are changing. Around you. Inside you.”
Her throat constricted. “You keep saying that. But you never tell me what it means.”
Cassian hesitated. For the first time in years, hesitation cracked through his composure. “Because it wasn’t time. But now…the signs are coming faster.”
She leaned forward. “Cassian, what are you not telling me?”
He exhaled slowly. “Tell me again about the man you saw. The one from the alley.”
Her pulse quickened. “Kael.”
“Yes. Tell me everything.”
She did. The way Kael moved—silent, predatory. The way he looked at her was as if he’d known her in another lifetime. The strange pull she felt, like her soul had leaned toward him before she’d told it to. Cassian listened, expression unreadable, fingers steepled in front of him.
When she finished, he closed the journal.
“Aria… I believe he is connected to what’s happening.”
Her heart stuttered. “How? You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough about…certain beings.” His jaw flexed. “Certain bloodlines.”
Aria felt her stomach drop. “Cassian… what bloodlines?”
He opened his mouth—but froze.
The lights flickered.
A cold wind tore through the archive hallway, though the windows were sealed shut. Papers fluttered, the overhead lamps buzzing erratically. Aria’s breath fogged out in front of her. Ice crawled over her skin.
“No…” Cassian whispered. “Not here.”
“What’s happening?” Aria’s voice shook.
Cassian grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a shelf as the temperature continued to plummet. Shadows spilt across the floor—not like normal ones, but thick, oily, moving. They drifted toward the far end of the archive like veins spreading through a body.
Aria’s heart slammed painfully. “Cassian—”
“Stay behind me,” he ordered, voice low, fierce.
For the first time in her life, Cassian sounded afraid.
Something materialised within the shadows—three tall figures cloaked in ragged black, their presence oppressive, their silhouettes wrong, bending the air around them. Their hoods obscured their faces, but she could feel their eyes. Ancient. Hungry.
Shadow Priests.
She didn’t know how she knew the name—but she did.
Cassian placed a hand in front of her, fingers trembling slightly. “Aria, listen to me. If they see you—”
One of the hooded figures turned sharply, head tilting with an unnatural twitch toward their hiding place. Cassian’s eyes widened.
“Run.”
Aria didn’t think. She sprinted down the row of shelves, heart hammering as the whispers rose behind her—dark, slithering sounds like serpents coiling around her mind. She burst through the back door of the archives into the alley, breathless, shaking.
Cold air burned her lungs—
—until a strong hand closed around her wrist.
She gasped.
Not Cassian.
Kael.
He stood before her as if carved from moonlit shadow, his expression unreadable, his grip firm but gentle. His silver eyes flicked over her, scanning for injury, then focused sharply over her shoulder.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered. “They’re tracking you.”
“W–who?” she breathed.
The shadows spilt into the alley behind her.
Kael pulled her into him, placing himself between her and the hunters. His posture shifted—slow, lethal, as if something inside him awakened.
“Stay behind me,” he growled, voice no longer entirely human.
Aria’s knees weakened—not from fear, but from recognition. That same tugging sensation from before roared to life, pulling her toward him like she’d been waiting for him for years.
The Shadow Priests stepped closer, hissing.
Kael’s heartbeat thundered beneath her palm.
“Kael,” she whispered, “what are they?”
He didn’t look back at her. “Dangerous.”
“That’s not an answer—”
He snarled, a deep, resonant sound that silenced her instantly.
The shadows lunged.
Kael moved like lightning.
Aria only caught glimpses—a blur of silver eyes, the glint of fangs, the shattering of stone as one of the Priests hit the wall. Magic crackled in the air, sharp and cold. Her breath hitched as one of the figures twisted around Kael, whispering something dark, something that made her blood burn.
Kael staggered.
“Kael!” she screamed.
He thrust a hand out toward her—not to reach her, but to push her away. “Stay back!”
His voice broke on the last word.
The shadows swarmed him.
Aria took a step forward instinctively—and pain exploded through her chest. She collapsed to her knees, gasping. It felt like claws raked inside her ribcage, tearing, awakening something ancient and molten.
No. Not here. Not now.
Her vision blurred silver.
Kael roared, tearing free of the shadows long enough to look at her.
And the way he stared—
—like he knew exactly what she was—
—made her blood freeze.
“Aria,” he said hoarsely, “your eyes—”
But before he could finish, the world blurred—power crackled—and everything went white.