Outside, the sky broke open. Thunder rolled across the land and rain fell heavily upon the stone paths. The streets were empty, no moonchariots, no passing pack warriors. The den keeper offered a cloak, but the doors were already sealed for the storm. I had no choice but to walk.
Each step felt heavy. My arm throbbed beneath its healing wraps. My body ached. Yet worse than the pain was the storm itself. Thunder had always terrified me since I was a pup. Lightning and roaring skies made it feel as though the world would be torn apart.
I pulled my cloak tighter and kept moving, the territory blurred by rain and shadow.
Then, a flash of light. A loud horn call. A moonchariot rushing fast.
There was no time.
Darkness claimed me.
When I woke, everything felt unnaturally soft. I blinked beneath dim lantern light, pale stone walls surrounding me. My body hurt, but the pain felt distant, dull. I turned toward the movement near the wall.
“Alden…?” I whispered.
It was not him.
A man sat quietly nearby. Tall, dressed in dark cloth, his eyes unreadable. He did not move until I tried to rise.
“You are awake, my Luna,” he said calmly. “Do not strain yourself.”
“Who… are you?” I asked.