Kael watched Elara with careful eyes as she nibbled on the edge of a piece of bread, her fingers still trembling. She looked fragile under the glow of the firelight—like a porcelain figure caught in the middle of a war she didn't understand.
But she was more than she appeared. He could feel it.
"You keep staring at me," she said quietly.
"You carry a scent," Kael replied. "One I haven't smelled in years. It's... old. Sacred."
She blinked at him, confused. "I don't What are you talking about. I'm just a girl. I don't remember anything from before the forest."
Kael leaned against the wooden beam, arms crossed over his chest. "You said something when I found you."
Elara's brow furrowed. "What did I say?"
"Don't let them find me."
Her grip on the bread tightened. "I don't remember who they are… but I know I was running from something. Something dark."
Kael moved closer, crouching in front of her. He reached out gently, brushing aside the edge of her loose gown at her shoulder.
"I need to see something," he said softly. "May I?"
She hesitated but nodded.
Kael slid the fabric aside and his breath caught.
There, glowing faintly against her skin, was a crescent moon mark—etched like a brand just above her collarbone. His fingers hovered over it, reverent.
"The mark of Luna's Chosen," he murmured. "Only those with blood from the original Moonline carry this."
Elara looked up, her eyes wide. "What does it mean?"
Kael stood slowly, eyes never leaving hers.
"It means," he said, voice low and certain, "you're not just human, Elara. You're descended from the first Moon Priestess. You were born under prophecy."
She stared at him, heart pounding. "And you? What are you, Kael?"
He stepped into the light, golden eyes glowing like fire.
"I'm the Alpha," he
said. "And the moon just gave me you."
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