[redith].
"I was just going to get so air," I said softly.
Draven frowned, pushing himself up on one elbow. "At this hour?"
Valmora bristled imdiately, as if she knew I might not be able to hold back from him. "You cannot and must not let him leave this room with you."
I hesitated only for a second before letting the words leave my mouth, calm and sincere.
"Please," I said quietly, eting his gaze. "Can you do a favour and sleep soundly tonight?"
There was no force or command in my voice, just a gentle tone, wrapped in trust.
Draven searched my face, sothing unreadable passing through his expression. Then he nodded once.
"Alright."
The next mont, his head sank back onto the pillow too quickly. His breathing deepened instantly, slow and even, the weight of true sleep settling over him as if a switch had been flipped.
I stared at him as my heart began to pound. ’Did he... just listen?Or did I do that?’
Valmora was silent now, watching everything.
I swallowed, pushing the thought aside before panic could take root. I rose quietly, pulled a shawl over my shoulders, slipped my feet into my slippers, and crossed the room without another glance back.
The hallway was empty. The house slept. But outside, the night was alive.
The air was cool, fragrant with earth and night-blooming flowers. The full moon hung low and imnse, bathing the clearing in silver. Shadows stretched long across the ground, soft and reverent.
She stood there waiting for .
My grandmother held her walking stick in one hand and a small lamp in the other, its warm glow flickering gently against the pale moonlight.
Her silver hair was drawn back into a simple bun, secured with a wooden hairpin I rembered from my childhood. Her white eyes were open, unfocused, yet I felt her attention settle on the instant I stepped closer.
"You are here," she said softly.
"Yes," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
Valmora stirred again, reverent now. "This is the mont."
I tightened my shawl around myself as I approached my grandma, the night humming with sothing ancient, patient, and inevitable.
"Let’s go," she said to .
I walked beside her in silence at first, the soft crunch of earth beneath our feet the only sound between us.
The lamp in her hand swayed gently with each step, casting warm arcs of light against the tall grass and ancient trees.
My chest felt tight.
"Grandma," I finally asked, unable to hold it in any longer, "where are we going?"
She didn’t stop walking. "Not far away."
That answer did little to calm . If anything, it made more nervous. I was dying of curiosity here, and the answers were not forthcoming.
The path narrowed, the trees thinning until the land opened into a wide clearing bathed entirely in moonlight. I slowed instinctively, and then stopped altogether.
To my surprise, there were others there.
Won stood scattered across the clearing, so older, so younger, all quiet, all watching with knowing expressions which didn’t feel hostile.
Their hair caught the moonlight strangely, too pale, too luminous. Their presence felt layered as if they existed both here and sowhere else at once.
My breath hitched. Then, I leaned closer to my grandmother. "Who are they?"
She turned her head slightly toward , her white eyes reflecting the moon. "Faes."
The weight of that settled slowly. ’Fae.’
My heart began to race in dawning realization. I had always known about her. I knew what she was, and the others in this village. But now seeing the others here, made sothing inside tremble.
The won shifted, forming a loose circle without being told to. The air thickened, humming faintly, like a held breath.
My grandmother stopped at the centre of the clearing and turned to face fully.
"This is where the truth begins," she said softly.
I swallowed, trying to confirm one more ti. "About my curse?"
"Yes, and no." She nodded once. "I told you there was sothing beyond it."
Then she reached out, retaking my hands, grounding the way she always had. "What you were told was a curse was never ant to harm you, Edith."
My brows knit together. "But I suffered because of it, the pain. Losing control—"
"I know," she said gently. "And I am sorry."
’Sorry?’ My heart skipped.
"The Lunar Curse like you and everyone else thoughy," she continued, "was not a punishnt. It was a restriction. A seal."
Instantly, my breath caught sharply. "A... what?" I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
"A safeguard," she said. "Placed by us."
The clearing felt like it tilted. "You—?" My voice cracked. "You did this to ?"
Her grip tightened, firm and steady. "To protect you."
My pulse roared in my ears and for a mont, that was the only sound I could pick up.
My grandma took a slow breath, as if choosing each word with care. "When you were born, I saw it imdiately. The power in you. The soul you carried."
My skin prickled.
"You are not rely gifted, Edith," she said. "You are the reincarnation of the Wolf Queen."
Though Valmora had already revealed this to still, the world went quiet around . It felt so different hearing that once again, especially with the added revelations about unfolding.
I laughed weakly, the sound hollow even to my own ears. "That’s... that’s not funny."
But no one laughed with . The won in the clearing lowered their heads instead.
My grandmother’s face remained calm and resolute. "Your power was too vast. Too volatile. If it had awakened fully while you were still young and immature, while your heart was untampered, it would have destroyed you. Or drawn enemies to you long before you could defend yourself."
My knees felt weak as I completely understood. "So you sealed my wolf," I whispered. "You made everyone believe I was cursed."
"Yes."
The word was simple and final, but sothing inside shattered.
Relief washed through first—sharp and overwhelming. I hadn’t been broken. I hadn’t been wrong. There had never been sothing twisted inside after all.
But right behind it ca grief.
All the years I had hated my own body. All the nights I had feared the moon. All the pain I had endured believing I was defective.
The next mont, tears blurred my vision. "You hid it from ," I said hoarsely. "My entire life."
"We had to," she replied softly. "If you had known, the truth would have echoed through you. Through your bond. Through fate itself. Secrets like this do not stay contained."
Then, I thought of Draven. Of Valmora, and of the way my mark had been fading.
"So... I wasn’t cursed," I whispered again, as if saying it aloud might finally make it real.
"No," she said. "You were protected."
I pressed a hand to my chest, struggling to breathe through the storm of emotions ripping through —anger, gratitude, sorrow, disbelief, and wonder.
"And now?" I asked quietly.
My grandmother smiled a small, knowing smile.
"Now," she said, "the seal has weakened on its own because you were ready. Because you chose love. Because you found your mate."
The moonlight seed to pulse, brighter than before.
"And tonight," she continued, "you will decide whether to finish what we began and step fully into who you were always ant to be."
Valmora stirred deep within , no longer restless.
I lifted my gaze to the moon, trembling, my heart pounding with fear and awe intertwined.
All this ti... I had never been cursed. I had been waiting.
The air pressed against my skin, heavy and alive, as if the night itself had leaned closer to listen.
Just then, my grandmother slowly released my hands, as if letting go of sothing fragile.
"You are not being forced," she said quietly. "This choice has always been yours."
My throat burned. For once, I had a choice over who I wanted to beco.
All my life, everything had been done to . The curse. The rules. The limits. The fear. Now suddenly, the weight of deciding for myself felt heavier than any chain they could have placed on .
"What happens," I asked, my voice barely steady, "if I don’t do this?"
The won around us remained silent. The wind brushed past my bare arms, calm and patient.
My grandmother did not lie to . She never had.
"Then the seal will remain," she said. "Your power will continue to wake in fragnts. Unstably, and Painfully, especially for the final stage. Though you will survive, but never fully live as what you are."
My chest tightened. "And if I do?"
Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Then there will be no more restrictions."
The word echoed inside . No more restrictions.
I thought of the mark on my shoulder—how it had burned, how it had ruled my life, how I had learned to fear the moon instead of honouring it. Then I thought of every ti I had been told to endure, to hold back, to be careful.
I thought of all the tis I was shad and looked down on.
Lastly, I thought of Draven, of how I had already bent fate by loving him. Of how my power had begun to answer instead of fight .
My hands curled into fists at my sides. "What do I have to do?" I asked.
Reviews
All reviews (0)