The silver needle slipped from Seren Evernight's shaking fingers as she stared at the strange mark on her shoulder.
It had been three days. Three long, terrifying days since the crescent-shaped scar appeared, burning into her skin like it had been carved there by the Moon Goddess herself. No matter what she tried, it wouldn't go away. Not with silver, not with spells, not even when she tried to cut it out.
"Stop fidgeting," her mother snapped from across the room. Cordelia Evernight, High Witch of the Shadowthorn Coven, moved like wind before a storm, quiet, sharp, and unstoppable. She packed her leather bag with bottles of wolfsbane and iron shavings, her long dark robes swaying as she moved. "You'll only make it worse."
Seren dropped the needle with a loud clatter. The mark had fought off every attempt to remove it, even with her grandmother's bone knife. Nothing worked. The crescent moon pulsed with a strange, cruel light, like it was mocking her efforts.
"I should have died before this happened," Seren whispered, her voice barely louder than the crackling fire. "A Moonbound bond to him. Of all the creatures in this cursed world—"
"Enough." Cordelia's voice cut through the air like a whip. "Self-pity won't serve our cause. What's done is done. Now we must turn this curse into our greatest weapon."
The chamber door burst open, and Seren's two younger sisters rushed in like twin storms. Lyra, barely sixteen but already showing promise with blood magic, clutched a spellbook to her chest. Behind her, thirteen-year-old Mira bounced on her toes, her wild curls barely held back by a worn ribbon.
"Is it true?" Lyra asked, her green eyes wide with both fear and curiosity. "Are you really bound to the Wolf King?"
Mira pushed past her sister, trying to see the mark. "Does it hurt? Can you feel him? Is he as terrible as the stories say?"
"Girls." Cordelia's tone allowed no argument. "Leave us. Your sister and I have much to discuss before dawn."
"But Mother—" Lyra started.
"Now."
The sisters exchanged worried glances but obeyed, though not without Mira shooting Seren a look that clearly said tell me everything later. The door closed with a soft thud, leaving mother and daughter alone with the heavy weight of fate pressing in.
Cordelia moved to the window, gazing out at the moon that hung heavy and full above the forest canopy. "King Alaric has ruled the Northern Wolflands for twenty years," she said, her voice taking on the cadence of the war stories Seren had grown up hearing. "Twenty years since he slaughtered the Alpha of the Eastern Wolfland Pack and took their territory. Twenty years since he exiled himself rather than bow to the Moon Goddess's will."
Seren knew the tales by heart. How the Northern wolflands had torn through three covens in a single night, before she was born. How he'd left her great-aunt's body hanging from the sacred oak as a warning. How he'd sworn that no witch would ever again set foot in his domain and live to tell of it.
And now… now the Moon had bound her to him. Had chosen him as her fated mate.
"I don't understand," she whispered. "Why would the Moon Goddess do this?"
"The bond cannot be severed by ordinary means," Cordelia continued, turning back to face her daughter. "But it can be... redirected"
A chill ran down Seren's spine. "What are you saying?"
Cordelia smiled sharply as she walked slowly toward Seren, the candlelight dancing in her eyes. "You leave at first light for the Northern Wolflands. You'll go to King Alaric as his mate. He won't be able to turn you away, not with the bond."
Seren's stomach twisted. "You want me to walk into our enemy's kingdom and pretend to love him?"
"No," Cordelia said calmly. "I want you to get close enough to destroy him."
The words hit like a slap.
"Mother, no. This—this is madness. I won't—"
"You will." The High Witch's power filled the room, making the candle flames flicker. "This is our chance, Seren. For generations, our people have waited for a way to strike the heart of the wolf kingdom. The Moon Goddess, whether in her wisdom or as a cruel joke, has handed us that chance."
Seren's mind reeled. "You want me to spy on him. To betray the bond."
"I want you to remember who you are. And what they took from us." Cordelia stepped closer, her eyes burning so fiercely Seren stepped back. "Your great-aunt Morgana was my sister. My best friend. They killed her. The Griffin Coven, gone. The Slavenia witches, slaughtered, even the children."
The old grief and anger washed over Seren again. She had been raised on these stories, taught to hate them, to hate him. The Wolf King wasn't just an enemy, he was the enemy. The monster from their nightmares.
"But the bond—" she touched the mark on her shoulder unconsciously. "Won't it hurt me too? If I betray him?"
"It might," her mother admitted. "Or… it might make you stronger than you've ever been, giving you power over him." Cordelia's smile turned predatory. "A Moonbound witch has never existed before, Seren. We don't know the limits of what you might become."
Seren said nothing. Her mind was spinning. The weight of expectation from everyone.
"At dawn," Cordelia continued, moving back to her packing, "you'll leave with twelve trusted sisters I have chosen. They'll escort you to the Wolflands border. After that, you go alone. A show of peace."
"A show of insanity," Seren muttered under her breath.
Cordelia didn't look back. "He'll want to trust you. The bond will make sure of it. And once you're inside, learn everything. His allies. His weaknesses. His defenses."
Seren moved to her own trunk, mechanically folding the ceremonial robes she might never wear again. "And if this plan fails? If he sees through the deception?"
Cordelia's voice was quiet, but firm. "Then you die with honor. As a true daughter of the Shadowthorn Coven. But you won't fail. You are stronger than you think. Smarter than he knows. And you carry the strength of every witch he's ever wronged."
Outside, she could hear the other witches preparing, the creak of carts, the clink of glass, whispered spells in the morning dark. The journey had already begun, and there was no turning back.
As Seren packed her belongings—herbs and grimoires, silver daggers and protective charms—her mother continued the briefing that would either save their people or damn them all.
"Remember: he's been alone for two decades. No queen, no heir, no one he trusts completely. The bond will make him want to trust you, even as his instincts warn against it. Use that. Learn his weaknesses. Map his defenses. Find out how many allies he truly has left."
"What about his pack? Surely they'll be suspicious of a witch in their midst."
"Let them be suspicious. You're not there to make friends, you're there to end a war that's lasted too long." Cordelia closed her satchel with a decisive snap. "The Moon Goddess has given us this gift, Seren. Don't waste it on sentiment or foolish notions of honor."
The crescent mark on her shoulder pulsed again. This time, it felt... strange. Like something was tugging at her from far away. Not just magic. Him.
King Alaric. The Wolf King. Her fated mate.
Her family's greatest enemy.
As the first light of dawn crept in through the window, painting the stone walls gold, Seren Evernight finished packing for a journey that would end in either victory… or disaster.
She just wasn't sure which outcome scared her more.