A dozen women stand in a rough circle. Some wear aprons stained with flour, some leather guard tunics. Two warriors hover near the back, hands to hearts. When I step in, silence falls.
“Luna Freya,” one of the cooks says. “We heard the Queen’s Wing was opened again. We wanted to offer our help—if you’ll have us.”
“Why would I not?” I ask them quietly.
“You must hate us for following Izel,” another murmurs.
I sigh. “I don’t think you fully had control over who you followed then.”
Now that Nyx is unmuzzled, they understand my authority once again. Whatever glamour Izel used before no longer works on them.
Tamsin folds her arms. “They’re here for vows.”
I step forward. “Then say them.”
The eldest woman kneels first, pressing her palm to the floor. “By the Moon’s witness, I swear my service to the true Luna of Silvercrest.”
One by one, the others follow. Knees meet stone.
Something tightens in my throat. I kneel too, meeting their bowed heads. “Then I swear in return—to protect you as my pack, to lead you with honor, and to never let fear or treachery rule this house again.”
???
Later, after the women scatter to clean and light fires, I wander deeper into the wing. The air grows cooler. The corridornarrows, ending at a locked archway. Ivy toddles beside me, clutching my skirt.
“What’s in there?”
“I don’t know, little moon.” I push the heavy door. It groans but yields.
Inside lies an old council chamber, long forgotten. The walls are shrouded in cobwebs, but a faint shimmer catches my eye. I brush dust away and freeze.
A mural stretches across the stone, dulled by age but intact. Figures of women stand beneath painted moons, each haloed in silver. High Lunas, the first of the pack, their eyes bright even through the grime. Each bears a wide sword forged from Moonshard and a mark—variedly patterned crescents etched upon a shoulder, a palm, a throat.
I trace one near the center. The woman’s hair is light like mine. Her crown bears the same sapphire pattern as my diadem, so does the Moonshard sword she holds in front of her. But what makes my heart stop is the symbol glowing faintly at her collarbone—a silvered crescent identical to the scar on my own skin.
Finn edges closer. “That’s you, Mama.”
“No,” I whisper, but I know denial is useless. “That was long before me.”
Ivy tilts her head. “She’s smiling.”
“She is,” I say softly, fingers trembling. “Maybe she knew I’d find her.”
Nyx’s voice ripples through me. ‘The line never ended. It only slept—waiting for you to wake it.’
Tamsin approaches from behind, wiping her hand across another section of wall. More symbols emerge—wolves encircling moons, threads connecting each Luna’s mark to the next.
“What does it mean?” she asks.
“I don’t really know,” I whisper, dropping my gaze to my feet, feeling like an imposter. How would she react if she knew I bore the same mark?
The prophecy, I think. Rowan said the High Luna would unite empires. Now, as I glance up at the mural again, a strange feeling settles in my chest, something that feels very much like determination.
Once, this place belonged to forgotten queens. Now it belongs to me. And if the Moon Goddess truly marked me, then let the world remember what a Luna can become when she finally stops bowing.
MIDNIGHT HOWL
Freya
